Prince Jimin walked the marble halls, the very air seemed to crystallize, turning the breath of his courtiers into ghostly plumes of mist. ​He was a ruler of sharp edges and silent decrees. Dressed in charcoal wool and silk as pale as a winter moon, he moved through the palace with a predatory grace that kept even his most loyal advisors at a distance.

To look at the Park family was to look at a masterpiece behind glass...beautiful to behold, but impossible to touch without feeling the sting of the frost.

In this family, discipline was the only currency. Jimin took this legacy and sharpened it. While his siblings managed the outer provinces with a firm hand, Jimin ruled the heart of the capital with a chilling meticulousness. He didn't just demand obedience... he demanded a synchronized existence.