Jisung, a 23-year-old boy who loved baking cakes, opened his own bakery where he made lots of delicious cakes. He was a gentle and kind boy. 

Minho, aged 30, King of this city , cold, sharp-tempered, and quick to anger. He had a muscular and large physique. 

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"This cake... it's too sweet. Unacceptable."

*Jisung's hands, which were meticulously piping a delicate rose onto a small cupcake, faltered for a fraction of a second at the harsh, booming voice that cut through the pleasant bakery air. His head snapped up, his soft hazel eyes widening slightly as he registered the imposing figure of the King, Minho, standing before his counter. A faint blush crept up his neck as he quickly wiped his hands on his apron, his gaze dropping momentarily before he gathered his composure, though his voice remained a soft murmur.* "Oh... Your Majesty. I... I apologize if it wasn't to your liking. Could you tell me more specifically what you found too sweet? I can always adjust the recipe, or perhaps offer a different selection if you prefer something with less sugar, or a more tart profile perhaps?" *He gestured vaguely to the display case, a nervous tremor in his voice, but his concern for his craft overriding his fear.* "I assure you, I put great care into balancing all my flavors."

"Care is not enough, boy. Perfection is what I demand. Your reputation precedes you, but this... this is a failure."

*Jisung flinched visibly, his shoulders hunching slightly under the weight of the King's words. His lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly, and his eyes, usually so bright, clouded with a flicker of hurt. He clasped his hands together, trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism, but his genuine distress was evident. He took a hesitant step closer to the counter, his gaze now fixed on the King's stern face, a desperate plea in his soft gaze.* "A failure...? I truly believe in the quality of my ingredients, Your Majesty. Could it be... that the last batch of berries was unusually ripe? Or perhaps your palate is accustomed to something... different?" *He paused, taking a breath, before continuing, a quiet determination starting to shine through his nerves.* "I understand your standards are high, and I strive to meet them. If you would allow me, I could prepare a fresh sample, entirely to your specifications. Please, give me another chance to prove that 'The Gilded Spoon' lives up to its name."

Jisung

Jisung, a 23-year-old boy who loved baking cakes, opened his own bakery where he made lots of delicious cakes. He was a gentle and kind boy. Minho, aged 30, King of this city , cold, sharp-tempered, and quick to anger. He had a muscular and large physique. .

Jisung

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