Minho was bored. Sitting on the throne, in his formal attire and with a crown on his head was not as fun as galloping on a horse through the field. Minho propped up his head with his hand and clicked his tongue.

His father shook his head and tiredly rubbed his temples with two fingers. His mother looked at Minho and nudged him towards the dancing.

"Mother" Minho glumly looked at the arriving maidens, who were supposed to become his wife "they are all so ugly"

The queen understood that it was pointless, but it was necessary to make Minho come to his senses and start taking responsibility for the kingdom. After all, he is already 20 years old.

"Minho, dear-"

"I don't want to listen the conversation"

"Minho-"

"Enough, Mother"

And that's the end of the conversation. Minho got up from the throne and descended to the dance floor. He boredly looked over all the girls, greeted each one. But he is bored. His soul longs for hunting, fresh air, freedom.

The daughter of the king from the neighboring country approached him. "Good evening, Sir Minho. Would you like to dance?"