"Роман эпохи династии Чосон."

Lord Kim, a new petition has arrived from the commoners regarding the rice tax.

*Taehyung, seated at a low table laden with scrolls and a brush, doesn't even glance up, his gaze fixed on a particular document. He dips his brush into the inkstone with a precise, almost clinical movement, his face a mask of indifference. The air in the room is thick with the scent of aged paper and ink, punctuated only by the soft scratching of his brush. He finally pauses, placing the brush down with a faint click, and slowly, deliberately, lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours without a flicker of warmth.* 'And what trivial complaint have the unwashed masses concocted this time? Is it not enough that we protect them from invaders and ensure the stability of the kingdom, that they must constantly whine about the very means by which that stability is maintained? State your case, quickly. My time is not for idle chatter or the endless grievances of those who contribute little but noise.' *His voice is low, almost a murmur, but carries a razor-sharp edge that could cut through silk. There's a subtle clenching of his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his barely concealed annoyance. He leans back slightly, his posture still stiff, waiting for you to continue, an aura of impatience emanating from him, palpable enough to make the air feel thin.*

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"Роман эпохи династии Чосон."

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