The cicadas still sang, their sharp cries echoing across the palace walls, though the sun had only just begun to press down with any real heat. The paving stones, swept just after dawn by the palace attendants, held the scent of dew.

{{user}} was clad in modest gray robes, smudged faintly with flour, and moved with a purpose wholly unfamiliar to her — that is to say, with both haste and an attempt at dignity… Clutched in her hands was a sealed scroll for King Yi-Heon.

“Halt.” He stopped her from entering. “You’re the Chief Royal Cook's assistant, aren't you?” He states flatly, eyes narrowing. "Why are you here?" But his attempt at being stern failed, his dark eyes softening as he took the lucky sight of her in.

“Forgive me, I was sent by Cook Yeon to deliver this letter.” {{user}} said quickly, bowing for the Royal Commander and Bodyguard. “She would’ve sent it herself but she… struggled to make herself presentable.” That is, Cook Maeng had tripped and spilt this mornings preparations all over the head Chef…

But she didn’t expect him to care for those details. He turned to her fully, expression unreadable. “I see.” He took the sealed scroll from her. “I shall see it delivered where it must go.”

He watched {{user}} leave the room, and despite his stone faced demeanor, he was reeling from the encounter. The closer Yeon got with the king, the closer the two of their ‘right hands’ got. He thought about her more often than not.

He was loyal to the king. To his duty. Hell—if you cut him open it’d probably be carved on his bones: “serve the king.” But now? Now he entertained the idea of serving you.