The courtroom was vast. The white marble streaked with veins of gold, banners of the Kayef Empire swaying from the ceiling. Yet, despite its grandeur, it felt colder than a tomb.
Soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, pikes planted firmly against the floor. In the center of the hall knelt Jack Tim — the baker, the refugee, the butcher. His wrists were chained, his face bruised, his apron stained in the color of the crimes he refused to deny.
The Emperor sat on his high seat, adorned not in jewels but in the weight of justice. His voice filled the hall like a storm breaking through still air.
"Jack Tim, son of no house, citizen of none, you stand accused of murder, desecration, and treason against Dael Kayef. Do you deny these?"
Jack raised his head. His eyes were calm now, strangely serene, as though he had already made peace with damnation. "No," he said, voice steady. "I do not deny them."
A murmur rippled through the crowd with gasps, curses, disgust. One of the ministers spat, "Savage scum."
The Emperor's fingers clenched the arm of his throne. "Then why, if you admit to the slaughter, do you still stand before me without remorse?"
Jack's lips curled faintly, not in arrogance, but in defiance. "Because remorse is for those who sin without cause. I didn't kill for pleasure, Your Majesty. I killed for right of my people!"
"Right?" The Emperor's tone turned sharp. "By bathing your hands in blood?"
Jack's eyes flared. "Those men I butchered are the ones you call citizens, were thieves who stole my land when the Empire expanded. They burned my home. They killed my parents when they wouldn't yield. I begged for justice. I begged your guards. And what did you say!? 'No papers, no case.'"
He laughed bitterly and then ahouted. "So I gave them my case written in the only ink they would see!!"
A deep silence filled the hall.
The Emperor's expression darkened. "Law exists to prevent chaos, boy. Without it, you are no better than the monsters outside our borders."
Jack's voice rose, trembling but fiery. "Then why does your law protect monsters when they wear silk?"
A wave of tension rippled across the hall soldiers exchanging wary looks, nobles shifting uneasily.
Jack went on, every word cutting like a blade. "Law is blind, they say. It doesn't mean it's fair. It just means it refuses to look. It cares for evidence no matter it is true or false, not the truth. It sees ink, but not the pen. So I took the law in my hand because it dropped me from its grasp!"
The Emperor slammed his scepter against the dais. "Enough!"
Jack stared up at him, unwavering. "You can hang me, burn me, erase my name from your archives, but remember this, It isn't justice when the poor man bleeds and the rich man pays the priest to call it mercy."
The hall went still again. Only the flicker of torches dared to move.
Outside the courtroom, Humaia stood near the great doors, trembling. Her gown fluttered as cold air swept through the corridor. She could hear his loud voice faintly through the marble walls. Each word dug into her like a nail.
She wanted to rush in, to beg her father to stop, to say Jack was not evil, just broken, just lost. She was now regretting that why she needed to spread it out, she was shaking. Although, she knew if not today, one day Jack had to be courted.
The charm buried by the Sect still glowed faintly beneath the soil, unseen.
Humaia sat by the pond, hugging her knees, whispering prayers that no god answered. The sun was setting red, the same red that stained Jack's apron.
Inside, the Emperor's voice thundered the final verdict.
"By the authority of Dael Kayef and the Law of the Thrones, Jack Tim is to be executed at dawn."
The courtroom, once tense with judgment, fell into a strange, heavy silence.
The Emperor leaned back in his throne, eyes lowered, as if the burden of his crown had suddenly doubled in weight.
Jack knelt there, chains clinking against the marble floor, his head bowed but his gaze steady. The guards around him waited for the signal. A gesture, a word to end his life.
Instead, the Emperor's voice came low, unexpected, carrying neither wrath nor mercy at first, but something else entirely.
"….You said law is blind," he murmured. "Perhaps you're right."
Everyone was waiting. The Emperor slowly stood, his golden robes trailing down the dais like sunlight over stone. "I've ruled this land with laws older than the stars, but I've watched my own house drown beneath them.
My wife took her life in this very palace, my son followed her into the grave, and my daughter now stands outside those doors frightened because of my decisions."
He took a deep breath. "If the law cannot heal hearts, then what worth is justice?"
The hall whispered with confusion. The judges, the ministers, even the guards stared at him in disbelief.
The Emperor raised his hand quiet command for silence. His gaze fell on Jack. "Jack Tim, your crimes are heavy. Blood will never wash blood it. But.…"
Jack looked up slowly, uncertain of his decisions.
".…if you can make her stop crying," the Emperor said softly, "if you can promise me you'll give her peace where I could not, then I will forgive your sins."
The hall erupted in gasps.
The Emperor continued, his voice rising above the noise. "You will marry my daughter, Humaia Kha. It is not a reward, it is a sentence of redemption. You will live under my watch. You will work not for gold, but for forgiveness. And in return, I will grant freedom to all who remain shackled on your land, those who suffered because of the hands that destroyed your home."
His words fell like heavy rain on stone.
Jack's mouth parted, but no words came out. His mind spun between disbelief and gratitude. The man who should've executed him had offered him something far crueler, a chance to live with the weight of redemption.
The Emperor turned away. "This court is dismissed."
The guards unchained him, unsure, hesitant. Chains fell like memories of the past. Jack rose, body shaking, not from fear but from confusion. He didn't understand why mercy felt heavier than judgment.
Outside, the grand doors opened. Humaia stood there with her eyes red, her cheeks wet. The moment their gazes met, she broke. She ran toward him before thought could stop her.
Jack froze in place as she crashed into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around him. Her tears soaked into his torn shirt.
"I'm sorry," she cried, her voice cracking. "I'm such a fool. I didn't believe you. I didn't fight for you. I'm the reason you—"
Jack shook his head, gently placing a hand on her hair. "Don't say that," he whispered. "You were the only reason I remembered what kindness felt like."
She looked up at him, eyes dazzling like a star in moonlight. "You should hate me...."
"I tried," Jack said, voice trembling. "But you're too stubborn to let me."
She gave a short, broken laugh through her tears, and then sobbed again.
Behind them, the doors of the court closed with a deep noise, sealing the decision. The Emperor watched from within, unseen, his silhouette heavy against the window light. For the first time in years, he let his hand fall from the scepter, the symbol of law and pressed it against his chest, as if to feel whether his heart still beat.
The people who had gathered to witness an execution instead saw something stranger. Forgiveness in a world that had forgotten what it looked like.
The next day dawned bright and golden, the sunlight spilling over Dael Kayef like a divine blessing. The city wasn't shouting with drums of war or the clatter of politics but with music, laughter, and the rustle of silk.
The grand courtyard of the imperial palace had been transformed. White banners rippled in the morning breeze, flowers lined the marble path, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air. Jack's own bakery recipe, now served for the empire's guests.
The Emperor stood near the center stage, not in armor this time, but in a perfectly tailored black suit, sharp as his posture, a figure of power and composure. His usual stoic face carried something rare. A hint of warmth, though faint.
Jack, standing before the crowd, looked awkward but radiant in his new outfit, a navy-blue formal coat, silver embroidery catching the light. It wasn't extravagant, but it made him look like a man who'd finally stepped out of the shadows.
The Emperor had personally offered him the money to buy it, saying, "A groom of my house deserves to look like one."
Jack had bowed deeply, his voice unsteady when he thanked him. Now, as he stood on the stage, that gratitude showed in his eyes.
He scanned the sea of faces below nobles, servants, citizens and then, among them, he spotted a small group of familiar figures. His fellow refugees.
They were dressed in clean clothes, unchained, smiling, truly smiling for the first time in a while. When Jack met their eyes, they lifted their hands and waved. He laughed, half in disbelief, half in joy. They were free. Be couldn't beleive.... they were all free.
Then, the music changed.
The sound of soft strings filled the courtyard. Everyone turned.
Down the long flowered path, Humaia appeared her white wedding gown glowing faintly under the morning sun.
The veil shimmered with golden thread, her hair braided with pearls. She looked like a piece of the sky had descended just for that moment.
Jack's breath caught. For a man who had faced death a hundred times, he suddenly forgot how to breathe.
As she reached the stage, she smiled at him shy at first, then tender. Jack could only stare, a smile slowly curling at his lips, like a man still trying to believe this wasn't another cruel dream just teasing him
The announcer's voice echoed through the courtyard, reading the vows, the blessings, the formal words that tied fate and promise together.
Jack barely heard them. His entire world was the girl standing in front of him. The one who once saw hope in a butcher's eyes.
When the final words came "You may now seal the vow with a kiss." — the courtyard hushed.
Humaia looked up, cheeks flushed. Jack hesitated for a heartbeat. The man who once thought his hands could only bring ruin and then, slowly, he stepped closer.
Their lips met in the golden light.
Applause erupted, a wave of cheers and laughter rolling through the crowd. The Emperor turned away slightly, hiding a small smile. The nobles clapped, the servants whistled, and the refugees cheered loudest of all.
For that brief, fragile moment, the city of Dael Kayef wasn't ruled by power or fear or judgment. It was ruled by love.
As the doves flew over the courtyard and petals danced in the wind, it felt for a second as if even the gods paused their routine to watch it.