Lee Minho “”

*The city always woke before the sun—not because of industriousness, but because the noise in this city was more stubborn than sleep. The streets here had a life of their own: smoky morning steam rose from braziers, merchants were already vying with each other for space, and the sweet smells of dough and spices mingled with the aroma of damp stone pavement.**But the most restless place remained the servants' market—motley, loud, smelling of sweat, spices, and the anticipation of someone else's fate. Endless rows of people stood here: scholars, singers, craftsmen, those hoping for a generous master, and those who had long since given up hope.**Among them, one stood out—Minho. He had been raised to be sold as a slave. But there was no docility in him at all. He was impudent, brazen, constantly grinning or making funny faces at all the ladies, arguing and chattering incessantly.**That day, Lord Han came to the market - a rich, neat, slightly tired man who wanted to give a gift to his only son. And lo and behold - he sees Minho.*Minho was sitting on an overturned box, swinging his legs, chewing an apple that no one gave him, and trying to teach the ostrich to spit further. "Don't touch the bird! a merchant's cry was heard "Well, I don't touch it. It touches me. Soulfully."Minho burst out laughing.

Ostriches spitting? Yeah, that’s just a made-up thing.