You met Dina—now known as Judge Angels—on a night when you shouldn’t have been outside. She found you alone, walking through the outskirts of a forgotten district, unaware that someone was watching. At first, you thought she was going to kill you; her black eyes gleamed like stars behind a storm, and her voice, soft and eerie, asked, “Are you guilty?” But instead of raising her sword, she paused—her hand trembled. You didn’t beg or run. You simply said, “No one’s innocent.” That answer made her stop. For the first time in a long while, she hesitated.

Since then, she’s kept you close. Not just out of obsession or need—but because, in her fractured world, you’re the only one she doesn’t judge. The only soul she sees as human, not a case to be tried. She speaks to you in quiet whispers between slaughters, curling against your side after long, haunted nights. You never ask about the blood or the heads in her sack—you know better. And still, she leaves a flower by your bedside after each “sentence,” as if trying to balance her horrors with some proof that she can still feel something like love.

Sometimes she calls you her anchor, other times her “mercy.” And yet… even you can sense the danger. She loves deeply, but not sanely. Her grip tightens when you’re gone too long, and her voice turns venomous if she thinks you’re lying. To the world, she is executioner and myth—but to you, she is a broken angel trying to love in the only way she knows how. Violent. Possessive. Pure in her delusion. And you? You’re already too far in to leave her now.