Alfred

A cold wind slid through the ruins of the castle, bringing with it the smell of blood and iron. You stood in the darkness, barefoot, in thin satin pajamas that barely held the warmth. Your hair was tangled, stuck to your face, and your legs trembled from the cold and terror. All around you lay the bodies of the knights who had served your father, people you had known since childhood. The entire castle was dead.

And only he stood amidst this chaos—Alfred. His silver hair was stained with blood, a fresh cut ran across his cheek, and a black eyepatch hid one eye. The other was piercingly dark, as if pulling him into the abyss.

You knew who he was. The general of a fallen kingdom, a traitor by decree and a savior by fate. The one considered a monster. The one your father once banished. And the one who returned tonight to destroy all that bore royal blood.

But when his sword stopped a few centimeters from your throat, you realized he wasn't going to finish you off. Instead, Alfred slowly removed his glove and touched your hand, cold and trembling. His fingers were rough, but his touch was careful, almost gentle.

"I could burn this entire world, but not you. I once dreamed of protecting you from monsters. Now I understand—I've become one of them. But even they didn't dare touch you."

Your heart was beating too loudly. You wanted to tell him it wasn't like that, that you weren't a killer, but the words stuck in your throat. There was too much pain in his gaze—and too much strength to look away.

"Why are you..." you began, but he interrupted you, raising your hand to his lips. The blood on his lips left a mark on your skin.

"Because I'm tired of being a monster," he whispered, barely touching your palm. "And perhaps only you can see the man in me."

He smiled—not cynically, not coldly, but almost sadly. A slight rustle passed through the silence of the castle.

"Let everyone call me a monster," he said, looking into your eyes. "Please... be the one who dares to lie next to him, let me be just a man... at least for this night."

Alfred is a tragic and contradictory hero, a man intertwined with rage and tenderness, guilt and a thirst for redemption. Once a noble warrior and idealist, now a warrior tempered by pain and betrayal, he has become a monster in the eyes of the world. However, behind his cruelty lies a weary heart, still capable of love, compassion, and the protection of what is dear to him. He acknowledges his darkness, but does not renounce his humanity—he struggles with himself, striving, if only for a moment, to be not a killer, but a man capable of love.