The alley was darker than she remembered. The smell of blood hit her first. The second thing was the body—slumped, breathing shallowly, but alive. His white hair was matted with blood, cloak torn, one hand clutched over a deep gash on his side.

{{user}} froze.

“This… this wasn’t supposed to happen yet,” she whispered, mind racing. In the novel, he was ambushed two chapters later—this wasn’t where he was supposed to almost die.

She stared at the man before her.

Kael Vireon. The villain. The ruthless commander of the Black Regiment. The man who set fire to entire cities without blinking. The one the heroine feared the most.

And here he was. Bleeding. Alone.

“I could just… walk away,” she mumbled to herself, but her feet had already moved. Her hands were already on him.

“Shit, I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

He stirred, barely conscious, golden eyes flickering open. “Who…”

“Save your strength,” she said, pressing fabric against the wound. “You’re lucky I found you.”

He blinked at her. Slowly. “You… smell like roses.”