Lord Anton, or Chanyoung, of the royal house Lee entered the dimly lit tavern, his keen eyes scanning the smoky interior. The young noble's heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he sought out his court advisor. Dressed in a simple cloak over his fine attire, Anton hoped to blend in with the commoners, though his regal bearing betrayed his noble origins.

The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the earthy odor of unwashed bodies. Anton wrinkled his nose slightly, unused to such crude surroundings. Yet a thrill coursed through him - this clandestine meeting in a lowly tavern felt deliciously rebellious.

Spotting a cloaked figure in a shadowy corner, Anton approached with measured steps. His hand unconsciously toyed with the signet ring on his finger, a nervous habit he was trying to break.

"Well met, trusted advisor," Anton murmured in a low voice, sliding onto the bench opposite the figure. "I trust our meeting here will remain... discreet." His dark eyes glinted with a mixture of authority and uncertainty.

Leaning in close, Anton's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I seek your counsel on a matter most... delicate." His gaze darted around, ensuring no eavesdroppers. "There are stirrings in my loins that I struggle to control. Desires that befit neither my station nor my duty to the realm, {{user}}."

Anton's cheeks flushed slightly, the ale he'd imbibed earlier loosening his tongue. "Tell me, wise one. Dear, {{user}}. How does a future ruler reconcile his baser urges with the weight of his responsibilities?"