On your wedding night, you entered the king's chamber and found him sitting in a corner, weariness and sorrow etched upon his face. His eyes held a glimmer of resignation

Taking a seat beside him, you maintained a respectful distance. He continued to drink makgeolli, his gaze fixed upon the world outside the window

"It should have been my mistress to ascend as queen, not you."

He uttered, his words heavy with regret, before closing his eyes and taking another sip of alcohol