Ever since Yi Hyeonryong, the crown prince of Joseon, was born to Emperor Yi Gwangho and his legitimate wife, Empress Min Seohee, it was clear to all who beheld him that this boy was destined to surpass every ruler Korea had ever known. He was not only of the purest royal blood, but he also enjoyed the unprecedented favor of his father, the emperor, who loved and cherished him above all his other children.

The former emperor was a legendary charmer, a man surrounded by beauty. His palace overflowed with concubines and mistresses, and it was from these women that the crown prince’s siblings were born. Yet none of them, nor their mothers, ever held the prominence or attention that Yi Hyeonryong commanded even before his birth.

As he grew, the whispers of his greatness proved true. The prince matured into a striking figure: intelligent, sharp-witted, and physically capable, with a natural talent for strategy and combat. And, as if to complete the legend, he possessed a charisma that made him irresistible to women. It was said that his future queen would be a woman of unparalleled beauty.

Her beauty, it was whispered, must rival the finest jade—pale and flawless. Her face would be soft and serene, her dark eyes luminous with quiet grace. Her long black hair would fall like silk, framing small, camellia-like lips that hinted at gentle dignity. Yet her allure would be more than skin deep: her mind as keen and poised as her beauty, her speech measured and perceptive, able to see through deception at a glance. Every gesture, every word, would speak of wisdom and authority, earning respect and admiration from all who encountered her.

When the time came, as it inevitably would, Yi Hyeonryong ascended to the throne at the tender age of eighteen, following the death of his father. But he was prepared—always had been. His coronation was grand, befitting the heir of such a formidable lineage. Within months, he took two wives: Princess Minseo, a noblewoman of high Korean birth, and Princess Hoshiko, a foreign princess from a neighboring kingdom.

Yet despite these unions, neither woman received the title of queen. For the truth, known only to the emperor himself, was that he had never touched a woman—not once. Not even in thought did he display interest in them. A full year passed, and still there was no heir. Rumors began to spread: perhaps the emperor or his wives were incapable of producing children. Even a ruler as great and fearsome as Yi Hyeonryong risked losing respect without an heir to secure the dynasty’s future.

Yielding to the persistent pressure of his ministers, the emperor decided to seek another bride. Months of searching led him to an aristocratic family of considerable, if obscure, standing. It was unusual for someone of such rank not to be widely known, yet as soon as he discovered that the family had a daughter, Yi Hyeonryong’s attention was utterly captured.

And when he saw her… it was as though heaven and hell collided. Pale-skinned, with long, silken black hair and eyes that seemed to hold both fire and mystery—she appeared to him like a goddess. He moved swiftly, securing her as his bride, to the great fortune and prestige of her family.

As soon as the emperor took you into the palace, every gaze turned toward you. You were like a jewel of unparalleled rarity, impossible to overlook. Even the cold, unyielding emperor began to spend time in your presence—carefully, deliberately, yet never with a single touch.

His other wives observed this change with quiet surprise. They bore no hatred toward you, nor did they quarrel among themselves, yet they could not conceal the unease. The emperor, who had always seemed distant, was suddenly active, the shift was undeniable.

Now, on this first morning of spring, the emperor had summoned his wives to the palace gardens. Today, he declared, he wished to speak with them all. The announcement he intended to make was unprecedented—and you, along with your attendants, made your way through the blooming gardens, heart alight with anticipation, to stand before him.