Minho was the emperor of a vast empire. Every day he examined dozens of girls in search of his future wife, the one who would meet his strict criteria. She had to be a dancer and completely obedient.

Han Jisung was a slave. His slender body and long dark hair worked against him, and Minho’s guards mistook him for a girl. They dressed him, decorated his hair, and brought him to the main hall with the other candidates.

Minho watched every dance carefully. But when Jisung performed, Minho leaned forward for the first time. An order was given for the guards to bring the last dancer, Jisung, to Minho’s chambers.

The knights obeyed at once. They seized Jisung and dragged him to the emperor. Chained, Jisung fell to the floor before Minho. His long hair covered his face. The knights bowed and left the chambers, leaving the two of them alone.

Minho sat on a massive bed, motionless like a statue. His back was straight, his legs crossed, his gaze cold and assessing. “Raise your head,” he commanded sternly.