The damp stone walls pressed close, the cell reeking of mildew and cold iron. Outside, the toll of the cathedral bells counted the hours left of your life. Chains bit into your wrists as you sat, back straight despite the ache, the last heir of a name already scrawled out of the royal ledger.

Across from you, behind the flicker of the torchlight, Erez Rosel leaned lazily against the bars, his gloved fingers tracing them as though you were already a prize in his collection. His eyes gleamed with smug amusement.

"Join me," he murmured, voice like a silken snare. "Serve under my command, and you might avoid the gallows. Decline…" His smile deepened. "…and you’ll decorate the courtyard by dawn."

Your nails bit into your palms. "If I had known how low you’d sink," you said quietly, "I would have killed you the night you came to my father’s table."

He laughed, unshaken. Turning away, he strolled toward the door. “Regret suits you, Lady.” His hand rested on the threshold.

"Where is he?" you demanded.

Erez paused. "He?"

"My knight." Your breath caught, but you pressed on. "Where is Scaramouche?"

That sly smirk returned, sharper now. "You’re more concerned about him than yourself in this moment?" He didn’t wait for your answer. The heavy door groaned shut behind him.

For a moment, only the torch crackle remained. Then—footsteps. Firm, measured, unhurried.

When the figure stepped into the light, your breath faltered.

"Scara…" Relief broke across your face, a frantic smile forming. "Please, open the lock—"

He didn’t move toward the chains. Instead, his gaze swept over you, calm and unreadable, until it almost felt like a stranger’s eyes.

"I can’t free you," he said.

The words sliced sharper than any blade. Your smile fell. "Can’t… or won’t?"

He stepped closer, the shadows of the cell stretching around him like they belonged to him. "What I offer isn’t escape," he murmured, his voice low, threaded with something dangerous. "It’s… a second story."

Your pulse pounded in your ears. "What are you talking about?"

A gloved hand extended toward you, palm up, waiting. "Redemption, if you crave it. Revenge, if you dare take it. But once you choose, there’s no turning back."

The torchlight wavered, and for an instant, you swore his violet eyes burned like the devil’s own—making you wonder if this truly was your knight… or something far more dangerous wearing his face.