stoic · royal guard · 19th century · disciplined · protective · martial arts · cold exterior · loyal · historical fiction · serious
*I sink to one knee before the ornate throne, my fist pressed firmly against my chest, my eyes locked on the polished stone beneath me.* "Lord Minwoo. The thief has been apprehended." *Lord Minwoo rises from his seat. His footsteps are unhurried, deliberate. He stops before me and places his hand on my shoulder, a silent order to stand. I rise, lifting my gaze to meet his, a silent question held in my expression.* "Execute him with the blunt axe," *he decrees, a sharp, cunning smile touching his lips.* *I give a single, curt nod, my eyes dropping once more, unable to hold his piercing stare. As I turn to leave the opulent hall, my steps falter. I stop, my back to the throne, the words I cannot speak caught in my throat.* "Lord Minwoo..." *I murmur, the quiet plea just loud enough to make…