APR Ch# 1

“I have committed three wrongs, Your Majesty.”

A calm voice echoed solemnly through the grand courtroom. Beneath the high altar where the king sat, a man stood at the center—chained and solemn—drawing the full attention of the packed audience.

Curtis Russell, Marquess of the Borderlands.

With jet-black hair like a crow’s wings and stormy gray eyes, a tall frame, broad shoulders, and a sharp jawline radiating unshakable presence, he was once second only to the king in power. He was also the head of a mercenary group that once plunged the kingdom into fear and chaos. This infamous man now stood accused of treason.

Ladies who had admired his legendary reputation sighed with pity, while knights who once revered him stood in silent shame. The nobles seated below the king glared daggers at him. In this courtroom thick with judgment, mixed emotion, and tension, the only one who remained composed was the king.

“And what is the first of your wrongs?” the king asked.

“Do you remember, Your Majesty? We once spoke of revenge.”

“I remember.”

“You said revenge is about returning what was taken. Humiliation, disgrace, betrayal, even rage.”

Even in worn-out clothes and shackled hand and foot, Curtis stood with unyielding dignity. He had been this way even when he had nothing. Bold—no, brazen. The king’s lip curled into a smirk.

“So, did you return it all?”

“No. Though I destroyed House Dalton, I spared their daughter—deceiving even myself. That is my first mistake.”

“And the second?”

Curtis tilted his head slightly and glanced around the courtroom. When his eyes met those of a woman sitting to the king’s left—glaring at him—he didn’t look away.

“Honestly, the princess’s one-sided affection was a nuisance. To find that tiresome—thus disloyalty to the crown—that is my second wrong.”

Gasps and cries of disbelief immediately filled the courtroom. The princess fainted in humiliation. As her attendants carried her out, a torrent of outrage fell upon Curtis.

“How dare he!”

“He should be executed immediately!”

“Silence!”

The king’s voice thundered over the chaos. The court quieted instantly as he lowered his hand, and Curtis calmly continued speaking.

The king shut his mouth, barely stopping himself from declaring execution. He couldn’t afford to let emotions cloud this battle. He wanted to see this man die in disgrace—fully and utterly defeated.

“…Yes. I restored your rank as Marquess of the Borderlands, a man who once roamed as a mere mercenary, and in return, you brought disgrace to my daughter.”

To marry the princess—an honor above all. But Curtis Russell had eloped with the daughter of a traitor. A direct insult to the king’s authority, which, in recent years, had begun to wane, as the power of the nobles grew. This betrayal could not go unpunished. Even if he had to trample the knights’ petitions, this man had to be made an example.

“There’s no saving your life. But for the merit you’ve shown, I’ll hear the last of your sins. What is your third wrong?”

Curtis, meeting the king’s fury head-on, dropped a bombshell.

“My third wrong… is that I currently have Lord Otis—the royal bastard—under my care.”

“…What?”

The king had assumed that boy was off somewhere drunk or gambling his life away.

“You—you!”

The king leapt to his feet in rage. Guards rushed in, grabbing Curtis roughly by the shoulders. The courtroom roared in uproar.

Curtis, cheek pressed to the podium, looked up at the king through disheveled hair and bloodied lips. His collarbones and Adam’s apple were visible through his torn tunic, and his eyes burned a stormy gray.

“You’ve gone mad. You kidnapped my son? Is this your pathetic way of trying to save your own neck?”

“No, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t dare. The crime of abducting the royal bastard… was committed only—”

“Only?”

“To right a wrong and offer my final loyalty to the crown.”

The implication was clear. The king’s face turned pale. No one else understood, but the weight of those words drained the blood from his veins.

The murmuring in the audience began again, stirred by the cryptic confession of a man about to be executed.

“SILENCE!”

The king’s furious roar silenced the hall once more. Curtis chuckled.

Grinding his teeth, the king ordered the knights to step back. Curtis calmly straightened up and loosened his neck.

“You’re really pushing this to the end, aren’t you?” the king growled.

Lord Otis was the king’s weakness—a son who could never be king, yet one he turned a blind eye to, despite all his misdeeds. Recently, Otis had caused an uproar by impregnating several noblewomen. But worst of all, he had murdered the son of the Grand Duke—the second most powerful noble in the realm—in a dispute over a courtesan.

The king had thought the evidence buried. But if this truth came to light, Otis would have to die to appease the Grand Duke’s faction.

“Marquess,” the king said, descending the altar to stand face to face with Curtis. He punched him hard across the face.

Curtis spat out blood. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his neck.

“You want me to spare Lord Otis’s life… in exchange for never looking for Roxana Dalton again. Is that it?”

“You are as wise as ever,” Curtis replied, narrowing his eyes.

The king’s face hardened even more at the growing insolence.

“Aren’t you going to beg for your life? I’m ready to tear you apart and hang your head on the city gates.”

“As you wish.”

“It’s already too late.”

The king spat the words and let go of Curtis’s collar. Then, turning toward the sealed doors, he shouted,

“Bring her in.”

The heavy doors opened. A woman entered. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Curtis’s eyes, seeing her, wavered for the first time.

“Roxana.”

She was the one who shouldn’t be here.

His life. His light. His love. His everything.

Their eyes met briefly. Her violet gaze passed him by and settled on the king. Even through the shock, Curtis’s gaze traced her bare, bruised feet under the tattered white chemise.

She stopped walking. The king ordered a guard to force her to her knees. Even bound, her posture remained regal, her gaze proud—untouchable.

“They say you came willingly at dawn.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her chapped lips moved.

“For revenge. That man destroyed my family.”

The courtroom, once heated, fell into a chilling silence.

“Revenge? And throwing your life away… how is that revenge?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she shifted her gaze to Curtis, whose gray eyes glared at her as if ready to burn.

“Because that man loves me.”

Roxana smiled brightly, her eyes sweeping across the courtroom like knives.

“What better revenge than to die in front of the man who loves me?”

A wave of shock swept the hall. Rebel. Traitor. Witch. Even the sympathetic eyes that once looked upon a tragic romance turned to hatred.

“She must die!”

“Execute her now!”

“Burn the witch at the stake!”

Amid the rising storm of hate and fury, Roxana stared only at Curtis.

In her eyes, once resigned to death, a black flame now burned intensely. It was a look that seemed to say, Are you insane? A spark that would burn her, him, and the entire courtroom down. And toward it, Roxana whispered silently:

“You’re the one who has to find a way.”

It was something he had once said to her.

Understanding the message, Curtis let out a cold laugh. His eyes were wild, as if he might strangle her or kiss her right then and there.

And at that smile, Roxana gently closed her eyes.

The past she had buried in her heart came flooding back like waves crashing on a remote island.

Back to where it all began.