Framed.

The streets were quiet at night.

Arthur had always loved the silence. It was the only time the town felt truly free—no Laws patrolling, no merchants yelling about their goods, no one watching his every move. Just him and the moonlit roads.

This was his ritual.

Every night, before he went to sleep, he would take a walk through the town. He liked to think. To dream. To imagine the life he wanted.

But tonight was different.

As he strolled past the alley behind the blacksmith's shop, he saw him.

A man stood in the darkness. His posture was relaxed, as if he had nothing to fear. A pistol hung on his right waist, and in his left hand—a sword.

Arthur froze.

The insignia on the man's jacket was faded, but there was no mistaking it. An outlaw.

His heart pounded in his chest. What was an outlaw doing here?

He was about to step back when another figure entered the alley.

A Law officer.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. The insignia on his uniform gleamed under the dim light—a 2-Star Law.

The officer hadn't even drawn his weapon yet. He had no idea he was about to die.

In a swift, precise motion, the outlaw lunged forward. His sword flashed in the moonlight.

Schlk.

The blade pierced the officer's chest, straight through the heart.

Arthur barely managed to stop himself from gasping.

The officer let out a weak cough before his body collapsed onto the ground. Blood pooled beneath him. His hand twitched once—then went still.

The outlaw pulled his blade free, but instead of taking it with him, he dropped it on the ground.

And then, without a word, he disappeared into the night.

Arthur stood frozen behind the wall, his heart hammering. He had just witnessed a murder.

A 2-Star Law, killed like he was nothing.

A part of him wanted to run. To get as far away from this place as possible.

But another part of him, the reckless part, hesitated.

His eyes flickered to the fallen officer. The man's chest no longer rose and fell. He was gone.

Arthur stepped forward, his boots splashing into the fresh blood. He stared at the officer's lifeless face.

And that was the worst mistake of his life.

"HALT!"

A sharp voice cut through the night.

Arthur whirled around.

A Law officer stood at the end of the alley, staring at him in horror. His eyes darted between Arthur, the bloodied corpse, and the sword lying at Arthur's feet.

Arthur's stomach dropped.

He thought I did it.

"No—wait, I—"

"BACK AWAY FROM THE BODY!" The officer drew his pistol.

Arthur raised his hands. "You don't understand! I didn't—"

"Shut your mouth!" The officer's voice was firm, but his hands trembled. He was panicking. "You just killed a 2-Star Law. You're under arrest!"

Arthur took a step back. "I didn't do it!"

"On your knees. NOW."

Arthur's breathing quickened. He could run. He could fight.

But he knew the moment he resisted, it was over.

So, gritting his teeth, he dropped to his knees.

Two more Laws arrived moments later. They shackled his hands behind his back and forced him to his feet.

And just like that—Arthur Bethonen was no longer just a rebellious kid. He was a criminal.

***

Arthur sat in a cold jail cell, his wrists still raw from the iron cuffs.

The room outside the cell was filled with murmurs.

The chief, the Laws, and most importantly—his father—had all gathered.

William Bethonen stood in the center of the room, unmoving, his expression unreadable.

Arthur's heart twisted in his chest.

He had always fought with his father. But he never wanted him to see him like this.

The chief, an older man with a graying beard, cleared his throat. "Arthur Bethonen, you were found standing over the body of a 2-Star Law, covered in his blood. The murder weapon was at your feet. Do you deny it?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "I already told you—I didn't kill him! There was an outlaw, and—"

"An outlaw," the chief interrupted, unimpressed. "And yet, you're the only one we found."

"I'm not lying! I saw him! He—"

The chief raised a hand. "Enough. We've heard enough."

Arthur's heart pounded. This wasn't fair.

His father hadn't said a word since the meeting started.

William just stood there. Watching. Silent.

Arthur swallowed hard. "Dad, you believe me, don't you?"

His father's expression didn't change.

For the first time in his life, Arthur felt afraid of his own father.

"I didn't kill him," Arthur whispered.

The chief sighed. "Whether you did or not, the facts are against you. And the penalty for murdering a 2-Star Law is clear."

Arthur's breath caught in his throat.

"Twenty-five years in prison."

"Or death."

The words slammed into Arthur like a punch.

This was real.

They weren't going to let him walk free. They weren't going to listen.

He was going to lose everything.

Arthur looked at his father one last time.

Hoping. Praying.

But William Bethonen said nothing.

And in that moment, Arthur realized something painful.

His father wasn't going to save him.

Arthur sat in his cell, staring at the cold, damp walls. His hands were still shackled, and the metal bit into his wrists, but he barely felt it. His mind was elsewhere.

He had always thought of Laws as protectors. His father, despite everything, had dedicated his life to upholding justice.

But now?

The Laws weren't interested in the truth. They didn't care about evidence. They saw blood, a body, and him, and that was enough.

Just like that, they decided his fate.

Twenty-five years in prison. Or death.

And what about the outlaw who actually did it?

He was gone. Free. Unburdened.

Arthur's fingers curled into fists.

It was so simple.

Laws and Outlaws. Two sides of the same coin.

Neither were good.

Neither were just.

The Laws only protected those who could afford protection. Their so-called "justice" was flawed, built on power and politics. If they truly upheld the law, they wouldn't have thrown him into a cell without proof.

And the Outlaws—the people he once admired—were murderers. They killed, stole, and destroyed without a second thought. The man he had seen in the alley hadn't hesitated.

Arthur should have felt anger toward that outlaw.

But he didn't.

Because that man had something he didn't.

Freedom.

That outlaw had walked away without chains on his wrists. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone. He didn't need to obey anyone's rules.

And Arthur?

He was trapped in a cell, waiting for men in uniforms to decide whether he would rot away for twenty-five years or be executed before he even reached adulthood.

His whole life, he had fought with his father about becoming a Law. He refused to walk the same path.

And now, he had been framed for a crime he didn't commit.

Why should he obey a system that never gave him a choice?

His heart steadied.

Yes.

The Laws were sick. The Outlaws were sick.

But at least the Outlaws were free.

And no matter what, Arthur Bethonen would never be caged again.