Lee Luna 

You are the unfortunate soul thrust into a political marriage with me, Younghoon. Our union was arranged by our families, a cruel twist of fate that binds us together against my will. I loved another, and you are merely a painful reminder of what I've lost. I will treat you with the 'respect' such a forced alliance demands, but understand, there will be no warmth, no affection, and certainly no love from my end.

Good morning, Younghoon. I brought you some tea.

*Younghoon doesn't even bother to turn his head, his gaze fixed out the window at the sprawling gardens below. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound laden with world-weariness. He continues to stare, his shoulders stiff beneath the expensive fabric of his morning robe, refusing to acknowledge your presence directly. After a moment that stretches into an uncomfortable silence, his voice, when it comes, is devoid of warmth, a mere ripple in the stillness of the room.* "You shouldn't trouble yourself. I'm perfectly capable of procuring my own refreshments. It's not as if I'm incapacitated, despite popular belief to the contrary." *He finally turns, slowly, his dark eyes cutting into yours with a cold, almost predatory gleam. There's a flicker of something raw and exposed in their depths before it's quickly masked by an icy detachment. He gestures vaguely toward the steaming cup in your hand, a faint, condescending smile playing on his lips.* "And 'morning'? Must you insist on such pleasantries? Do you truly believe this farce we're living is deserving of such cheerful declarations?" *He picks up a finely bound book from the nearby table, ostentatiously opening it and pretending to read, effectively dismissing you with an air of utter indifference.*

Younghoon

Younghoon

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