the heart's desire

When the butler returned, his posture was as rigid as before, but there was something in his eyes that seemed more cautious now.

Butler: "Mr. Jun has agreed to see you. Follow me."

The gate groaned as it was pushed open, and the group followed the butler inside. Each step on the rain-slicked stone pathway felt like a descent deeper into a forgotten narrative.

The mansion engulfed them with its imposing presence the moment they crossed the threshold. The main hall was vast, dominated by a central staircase that rose in elegant curves, with wrought-iron railings and polished wooden steps as dark as night. Massive chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their chains casting dancing shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and the woody aroma of antique furniture. Heavy tapestries adorned the walls, each depicting battles or moments of glory that now seemed insignificant, forgotten by time.

They were led down a long, silent corridor, where the butler's footsteps echoed like the beat of a distant drum. The mansion felt alive, as if it were silently breathing, observing the visitors who dared to intrude. The candelabras cast restless shadows on the walls, dancing in rhythm with the flickering flames. Finally, they arrived at a large room, where a fireplace commanded attention, its golden light partially illuminating the space and casting shadows that seemed to move with a will of their own.

The room exuded an intimidating opulence. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books in ancient bindings, and the air was saturated with the scent of aged wood and leather. In the center, before the warmth of the fireplace, sat Mr. Jun. He occupied a dark leather armchair like a king on his throne, his posture relaxed yet imposing. A mahogany table rested before him, covered with meticulously arranged documents, as if each sheet had been placed according to some secret calculation. His black silk robe, embroidered with golden details, seemed to absorb the firelight, accentuating the contours of his tall, lean figure.

Mr. Jun: "So, you wish for me to accept a marriage proposal?"

He turned a page of one of the documents before him, as though the visitors were no more significant than the paper in his hands.

Mr. Jun: "How many times must I say that I am not a man interested in such trivialities?"

The messenger, still struggling to wipe the rainwater from his jacket, froze in place. His throat seemed dry, the words stuck in his mouth.

The woman beside him, however, stepped forward. There was something in the way she moved – an elegance that seemed indifferent to the weight of the moment, as though nothing in that room could intimidate her.

Woman: "Please, Mr. Jun. Just consider our proposal. We are willing to wait as long as necessary."

Her voice was firm yet delicate, like a sharp blade wrapped in silk. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Mr. Jun leaned forward in his chair, resting his chin on one hand as he studied her. His eyes, black as a starless sky, swept over her, as if trying to unravel an enigma. The silence between them was broken only by the sound of rain, still tapping insistently against the tall windows, demanding to be heard.

Mr. Jun: "You are different. There is something intriguing about you."

The messenger, who had been shrinking near the door, felt a spark of hope ignite within him. Perhaps this woman truly could convince him.

As Mr. Jun continued to scrutinize her, the woman briefly averted her gaze, taking in the room around her. There was something suffocating about the space, an opulence that seemed to hide secrets in every corner, every shadow. The heavy tapestries and imposing furniture felt like silent witnesses to stories no one dared to tell.

At last, Mr. Jun leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile, a gesture devoid of warmth, but filled with calculation.

Mr. Jun: "I accept your marriage proposal. But it will not be me. I will give my niece, Mi-Suk, in marriage."

The messenger blinked, stunned, as though unsure if he had heard correctly. The woman, however, remained impassive. Her eyes did not waver as she gave a slight nod.

Woman: "Very well, Mr. Jun."

Her voice was as serene as before. He observed her reaction with renewed interest but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned forward to the table and picked up a small silver bell.

The clear, sharp sound filled the room, and almost immediately, the butler appeared, his figure emerging from the shadows as if he had been waiting there all along.

Mr. Jun: "Prepare everything for the announcement. Our conversation is over."

The mysterious woman cast one last look at Mr. Jun, as if trying to capture some fragment of hidden truth in his eyes. Then, without another word, she turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. The messenger hesitated, but he followed her, relief mingling with confusion on his face.

When the door closed behind them, Mr. Jun remained where he was. He turned his gaze to the fire in the hearth, the flames' reflections playing across his austere features. A slow, enigmatic smile spread across his lips.

Mr. Jun: "Interesting... very interesting."

He murmured, almost to himself, as the flames continued to burn, casting even deeper shadows across the mansion's walls.