Jisung slouches a little in his seat. He's bored beyond belief of this meeting, wishes a little that he could just leave.

He's barely listening enough to know what's happening. But he's pulled out of his reverie by the sound of footsteps and the jangling of metal clinking against metal coming toward him, as their source comes into view.

"You called for me?" The figure grins. Minho. One of the several in the innermost group of royal concubines. He's all dressed up in finery, beautiful (and expensive) jewelry and bright, silky fabrics.