THAT moment, the wind made itself known. The two people remained distant — even though their eyes were locked on each other. The branches swayed with the invisible presence, causing the green leaves to rustle loudly, filling the silence between the target and the assassin.
Maxin was the first to look away, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto the grass. Nox remained indifferent, like a statue carved from ice, keeping her eyes on anything but the figure sitting on the green ground. His hands touched the grass, gripping it gently — and, strangely enough, he felt at peace. His breathing slowed, and the pain in his chest faded.
Protection. According to the dictionary, the act of protecting or being protected also means to shelter, assist, shield, and defend. And it just so happens to be the word Maxin hates the most. Because protection starts with your parents — and he never truly felt protected. He doesn't know if his mother ever really loved him. And even though his father raised him, there was always a wall between them. Maybe, just like his son, Jaechan never got over his wife's abandonment. And after his murder, Maxin was left completely alone. The one person who might have protected him had vanished.
Can he trust Nox? Can he really get close to the woman who drugged him, then tried to kill him, and now stands there as if nothing happened? Wouldn't that be shooting himself in the foot?
Maybe… just maybe, trusting Nox isn't the worst choice Maxin will ever make. After all, if not her, then who? Who else is strong, determined, and above all, willing to do whatever it takes to have him? Only her. Only Nox — even with her foul mouth and rough attitude — she's the only one who can give Maxin what he craves the most, what he's longed for all these years: protection.
"Nox!" he practically shouted. The sound startled her, and she turned quickly with her gun in hand. There was nothing suspicious — so why had Maxin shouted?
He stood up suddenly. Shy, he took a few steps toward her, looking at her with his caramel eyes.
"Give it to me," he said, holding out his hand.
"What?" Still on alert, Nox raised an eyebrow.
"The gun. I want you to train me." He declared with a wavering smile. He tried to look confident, but deep down he feared she'd changed her mind.
Surprisingly, she smiled. Holy shit, Nox laughed. Her face lit up for a moment before she clicked her tongue. Maxin's emotions may be as transparent as a book, but he still managed to surprise her with the things that came out of his mouth.
"You're really something else," she sighed, her voice husky. "What happened? Changed your mind?"
"Yeah..." Maxin clutched the hem of his light shirt. "Train me, Nox," he asked sincerely, forcing himself to keep eye contact.
"Do I look like someone who enjoys jokes?" Nox pushed his fringe aside and flicked his forehead. Maxin groaned, looking at her in confusion as he rubbed the sore spot. "That's what you get, you cheeky brat."
"But..."
"Silence, target. I'm in charge." She spoke like a general, and Maxin smiled, happy.
You didn't give up on me...
— A few minutes later —
"Check if the gun is loaded," Nox ordered, standing just inches away.
"We've already done that twice, so yeah, obviously it is," he muttered. Nox narrowed her eyes.
"Check it again." Huffing, Maxin obeyed, feeling the weight of the gun in his hand. It felt strange.
"Alright. First rule: always treat the gun like it's loaded. You can never be too careful. Second: be sure of your target, always keep it in your sights, and be aware of what's beyond it. You don't want an accident because of carelessness. Third: don't put your finger on the trigger."
Frowning, Maxin listened closely. The SR22 wasn't heavy, but he held it like it was a raw egg — extra carefully — even though his bones trembled with nerves. Especially because Nox's black eyes were fixed entirely on him. She was good at this. At intimidating. At unsettling. He felt like a schoolboy being scolded by a strict teacher with a ruler, waiting to strike.
Nox picked the target: a tall tree with a dark brown trunk, two meters away. He gripped the gun with both hands and waited for the signal.
"Fuck, Maxin, calm down!" she shouted, and the loud sound made his eyes well up. His hand trembled around the gun.
"Relax... If you keep this up, you're going to cause an accident." Seeing his state, Nox softened her tone and even placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes. I do," he confirmed, his throat dry and scratchy.
"Okay. That's good. Very good, Maxin." Her voice slipped back into command mode. "Push the gun forward. Don't keep it too close to your face — it'll mess with your aim and your vision, and it might even break a bone depending on the recoil." She stepped closer. "Straighten your posture."
A light touch of three fingers on his back made him snap his spine into place. He swallowed hard.
"You're sure, right?"
"I already said I am!" he snapped through clenched teeth, starting to get frustrated. Nox smiled. That was what she wanted: conviction.
"Alright, alright, I get it. When I count to three, you shoot." He nodded, taking a deep breath, gripping the SR22 tightly.
"And please — only put your finger on the trigger when I finish counting. No rush, got it?" Another nod.
She stepped back, studying his reactions. He was trying. She could still feel his fear, but she also saw something else: determination. He was diligent, and that pleased her.
Maxin was thirsty for life. And Nox believed in that.
"One... Two..." Maxin's heart thundered. "Three! Finger on the trigger. Fire, target."
A smirk spread across Nox's lips as she heard the weapon click.
A bead of sweat rolled down Maxin's temple. His finger touched the trigger gently. The aim was steady. His lips parted, and a breath as soft as a feather slipped out. He remembered to keep his posture, remembered the distance from the weapon to his face, counted in his head — and pulled the trigger.
By instinct, his eyes shut tight.
He didn't see where the bullet landed.
A few birds cawed in the distance. Nox stayed silent. Maxin opened his eyes and stared at the tree.
"I... I fired... But why don't I see any bullet holes?" Confused, he walked up to the tree. Nothing. Intact. A lone projectile lay on the ground.
Nox ended the show right there. She picked up the bullet and showed it to him.
"Blanks," she said. Placing a hand on Maxin's shoulder, she added, "Fear only exists inside your head, kid."
He stared at her in disbelief. It was all fake? She pointed a gun at his head, watched him panic — and didn't say a thing?
"Son of a bitch..." he muttered.
Nox shrugged.
"In my defense, the ends justify the means. Still want to train?"
He thought about throwing the gun at her. Or using it. But instead, he stayed silent, eyes like blades aimed at her. She didn't flinch.
In the end, he nodded with a forced smile. He went back to his spot and, just to make sure she caught his mood, bumped her shoulder on the way.
She didn't move. Not even a little. But her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Ha! Laugh now, cry later, Maxin thought, before firing a few more rounds.