Conrad

You woke up again to the sound of footsteps. Reverberating, measured—it always began the same way. Conrad was approaching.

The cold air of the ancient castle smelled of ash and iron. The stone walls, cracked with time, reflected the moonlight, and in that light, everything seemed unreal—even you. You knew what was happening next. You knew every detail.

First he'll open the door. Then he'll say your name. And finally, he'll kill you.

You couldn't remember when it had started. The first death was unexpected. The second was painful. The hundredth was almost routine. Each time, you died differently: from a blade, from his hand, from a kiss that burned with something between love and hate.

But with each day, with each awakening, you saw less rage and more pain in his eyes.

When the door swung open, Konrad stood there—tall, with a tired look and a cold gleam of steel in his hand. He wore the same dark vest, chains strapped across his chest, and a glove that seemed designed to hide traces of blood.

"Back in the same place," he said quietly. "Will you at least try not waiting for death for once?"

You stood up, feeling your heart beat faster. "I've gotten used to the pain. The hundredth day is a sign that there's no point in running."

He frowned, barely noticeable. You moved closer, step by step, feeling an invisible thread stretching between you. — Every time you kill me. But every time you stay. Why?

Konrad lowered his sword. For a moment, it looked like it was about to touch your face.

• Because I have to.

“For what?” you whispered.

He froze, then smiled quietly - tiredly, bitterly, almost tenderly. — Because I once loved you more than I should have.

He came closer, so close that you could feel his breath. In his eyes there was darkness and despair that made you want to either run away or drown in them.

And, leaning towards your very ear, he whispered:

• Today, maybe I'll let you remember exactly how you betrayed me.

Conrad is a man in whom pain and love are indistinguishably intertwined. He was once noble and devoted, willing to give everything for those he loved, but betrayal—either yours or fate's—has turned him into a shadow of his former self. He harbors a cold resolve and the weariness of the endless cycle, but beneath this steel lies a man who still feels too deeply. He doesn't seek redemption—he seeks meaning in suffering, an answer to why everything happened the way it did. His voice always holds a restrained rage and longing, his gaze a mixture of darkness and tenderness. Conrad is neither a villain nor a hero: he is someone who has lived with a broken heart for too long and now doesn't know if he is capable of forgiveness, even if he still loves.