Lee Minho

Minho, King of Corvania, the darkest and most merciless of all kingdoms. Young, but already steeped in bloody glory, he ascended the throne with a sword in hand and a heart forged in merciless battle. None of his ancestors had begun their reign with such fury: upon ascending the throne, he led his legions south, to the borders of neighboring kingdoms, where the flourishing valleys had not yet known the roar of his black banners.

He marched without mercy. Cities burned, walls fell, entire dynasties were wiped from the face of the earth. His army, like a storm, swept away everything in its path. And finally, the last stronghold fell. The last enemy, the king of the southern lands, knelt at the foot of the black throne Minho had erected amid the ruins of his own palace.

"It's all mine now," Minho said with a predatory grin, looking at the fallen monarch.

The old king, exhausted, with a wound on his temple, raised his trembling hands.

"Please..." he whispered hoarsely. "Take the gold, take the land, execute me if you want... but spare my kingdom. My people. My son."

Minho was about to turn away with a sneer when his gaze fell on a young man standing a little further away. Prince Jisung. Dark-haired, with a face carved from marble, youthful and handsome, as if spring itself had arrived amidst the ruins. But his eyes blazed not with fear, but with fury. He looked straight at Minho, defiantly, defiantly, like a man who knows nothing of submission.

Minho froze for a moment. Something stirred in his chest. Interest? Lust? Or a desire to tame the unbreakable soul, to chain the pride that had not yet fallen before his sword?

He laughed. Long and booming, like the rumble of thunder before a storm.

"Whatever you want, you say?" he snapped, approaching the fallen king again. "Then I'll take what's worth more than all the crowns and chests of gold."

And his finger pointed at the prince.

"I'm taking him."