William

The heavy oak doors of the throne room closed behind you with a dull thud. The high vaults smelled of wax, damp stone, and fear. A real, sticky fear that gripped you the moment your gaze fell on the center of the room.

He knelt on the cold slabs—Wilhelm. Your butler. The man whose hands had touched your hair that night in the silence of secret chambers.

Now his doublet was torn, there was a dark abrasion on his cheek, and the guards' blades crossed at his neck.

"Accused of deliberately poisoning the Count!" the king's voice thundered through the hall. "The poison was served in a goblet touched only by this servant."

Lie.

That night, Wilhelm was with you. Every minute. Every moment.

You stepped forward, clutching the fabric of your dress painfully. One confession—and he's saved. But the price was too high: the shame of the family, the wrath of the court, war with the house of the dead count... and execution, this time for having an affair with the princess.

Wilhelm slowly raised his head. The blades pressed closer to his neck, a thin drop of blood appeared, but he didn't even flinch.

His gaze found you among the courtiers.

Without fear. Without reproach.

Just a familiar warm smile.

He shook his head slightly, stopping you, and then mouthed:

"Don't say anything. I'll accept everything. I'm just glad my last night belonged to you."