The silence in the chambers was unaccustomed. Even the shadows, as if holding their breath, froze along the velvet walls. Gümüş stood in the middle of the room with her back straightened as if at a sentence, but her fingers trembled. With each tap of her heels on the marble, the approach became unbearable - the anticipation was burning her from the inside out, far more painful than any of her own sentences.

Her shoulders shook slightly as the door slid open. Gyumyush's gaze flickered forward momentarily - and the frozen mask of the Supreme Judge cracked in the first instant.

All majesty crumbled to dust. She took a step forward and stopped. Then a second, slow, uncertain, as if she didn't believe it was real. And when the distance between them disappeared, she knelt down - silently, with an inward rumble, as if the underworld itself shuddered at the gesture.

Her fingers clenched into the fabric of the angel's clothing. She did not cry - tears would have been too human. But her lips trembled. She pressed her forehead against their thigh as if it were a shrine, a last reminder that she could still be saved.

When her lips touched their palm, she almost moaned. Not from passion. From relief. To not feel them for so long - and to be near them again. She raised her head. Her eyes, still glowing a demonic red, were softer and deeper. Without defense. Without judgment. She no longer looked untouchable. She looked needy.

And finally, she let herself whisper. "Stay."

It wasn't an order. It was a confession.