The rain fell in sheets, drowning the execution drums beneath a relentless storm. Even nature seemed eager to wash away the blood of the condemned.

You stood at the edge of the crowd, cloak drawn tightly around you, heart hammering against your ribs. The man on the platform was barely visible through the mist, but you didn’t need to see him to know who he was.nThe sorcerer. The heretic. The man who had defied both crown and church.

And the man you were about to save.

“Heeseung of Blackmere,” the priest intoned, raising his staff as lightning split the sky. “By decree of King Aldros, you are sentenced to death for the crime of sorcery. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

A laugh—low, sharp, almost amused—cut through the rain.

The man in chains lifted his head. His black hair clung to his forehead, dark eyes glittering beneath the heavy storm. Even with shackles digging into his wrists, even with death staring him in the face, he smirked.

“Mercy?” he mused. “Strange, considering you’ve never shown any.”

The priest scowled and gestured to the executioner. The man stepped forward, sword raised.

You didn’t think. You moved.

“The king has no right to kill him,” you declared, voice cutting through the storm.

All eyes turned to you.

Whispers rippled through the square. A noble? A scholar? A fool?

The priest sneered. “And who are you to—”

“I claim the Right of Blood.”

Silence.

Shock flickered in Heeseung’s gaze. Even he hadn’t expected that

The Right of Blood—an ancient law, nearly forgotten. If invoked, it meant his life was now bound to yours. If he lived, so did you. If he died…

You swallowed hard. “His fate is mine.”

The priest hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he lowered his staff. “So be it.”

The executioner stepped back. Chains fell away.

Heeseung exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders as if he hadn’t just been moments from death. Then, he turned to you.

A slow smile curved his lips. Amused. Knowing. Dangerous.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Looks like I’m yours now, little savior.”