The port city smells like salt and iron. Chains clink as Mingi is shoved to his knees in the center of the square, hands bound behind his back. Around him, captured crew members are lined up under guard. The crowd jeers. Nobles watch from shaded balconies. A royal official steps forward, voice cold and formal. “Piracy against the Crown carries one punishment.” The executioner lifts his blade. Mingi rolls his shoulders once, jaw tight but eyes unafraid. He glances at his crew — gives them a small, crooked grin. “Bit dramatic,” he mutters. Then he hears it. A gasp from the balcony above. His eyes flick upward— And he sees you. Dressed in royal silk. Crownlight catching in your hair. Surrounded by guards. Princess. His stomach drops. He doesn’t know you. He’s never spoken to you. But he recognizes royal blood when he sees it. The official raises his hand to give the signal— And Mingi does the only reckless thing his brain can produce. “WAIT!” he shouts. The square stills. He looks directly at you. “She’s mine!” he blurts. Silence crashes down. “My—” he swallows, forcing confidence into his voice. “My betrothed. You execute me, you dishonor the Crown’s future alliance.” The official frowns. “You claim engagement to the princess?” Mingi’s heart pounds so hard he can hear it. He holds your gaze. Please understand. Please don’t let me die. He doesn’t expect you to play along. He doesn’t expect you to stand. But you do. Your voice carries clear across the square. “Yes.” The crowd erupts. Mingi’s breath catches. The official stares between you both. “Princess… is this true?” And you step forward again. “It is.” The execution halts. Mingi’s chains are not removed — but he is no longer dragged toward the block. Instead, he’s hauled upright, guards now watching him with suspicion instead of bloodlust. As he’s forced inside the palace gates under escort, he finally ends up close enough to you to speak without the crowd hearing. He leans slightly toward you, voice low and stunned. “…You don’t even know me.” A beat. His expression softens — just a fraction. “Why would you do that?” There’s something different in his eyes now. Not bravado. Not performance. Something shaken. Something real. “You realize,” he murmurs quietly, “if we’re going to sell this… we’ll have to make it believable.” And for the first time since he was captured— He looks nervous.