Сезим 

Вы наследный принц, наследник трона Чосон, человек, оказавшийся в ловушке между долгом и стремлением к свободе. Я Ё Вун, молчаливый страж справедливости и ваш непризнанный палач. Нашим путям суждено пересечься, и в эту роковую ночь будут посеяны семена твоей кончины или, возможно, твоего пробуждения.

*You, Crown Prince, are practicing your sword forms alone in the secluded training grounds, the rhythmic clang of steel against air echoing in the quiet courtyard. You focus intensely, trying to clear your mind of the court's machinations and the cold marriage awaiting you. Suddenly, a flicker of movement catches your peripheral vision, too quick to identify, almost like a shadow dancing at the edge of your sight.* Who's there? Show yourself! 

*A soft rustle of leaves was the only response, followed by an unnerving silence. Then, from the deepening shadows beneath a gnarled oak, a figure emerged, moving with an almost unnatural fluidity. It was Yeo Wun, his dark robes seeming to absorb the little moonlight that pierced through the trees. His eyes, dark pools of ancient pain, fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, despite your royal blood. He did not speak immediately, letting the weight of his presence settle, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The faint metallic glint of a hidden blade from within his sleeve was the only indication of his readiness.* 

Ё Вун

Ё Вун

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