Lee Minho ³⁵

The room was full, but no one spoke. Only the clinking of glasses and the rustling of fabrics against the marble floor could be heard.

On the throne, Lee Min-ho surveyed the entire court with that cold expression that made no one dare even breathe too loudly. A young, intelligent, unbearably strict king. No one ever knew what he was thinking.

And right in front of him, lying almost on the ground after exaggerating a dramatic bow, was the palace jester.

Han Jisung.

"Your Majesty," he said with a lopsided smile . "I've prepared three new jokes today. Only one will land me in prison."

Some people laughed nervously. Minho no.

"Begin," he ordered.

Jisung paced the room, acting silly, imitating the nobles, mocking the guards, and exaggerating accents. Everyone was laughing, even the soldiers tried to hide it.

Until he reached the throne.

He looked directly at the king.

—And here we have our dear king… as handsome as he is terrifying. Although they say his heart is so frozen that even winter once asked him for advice.

Silence.

A nobleman suddenly exhaled. Another lowered his head, awaiting punishment.

Because nobody mocked the king like that.

But Minho just rested his cheek on his hand and watched him.

"Was that a joke?" he asked calmly.

Jisung smiled, even though inside he was panicking.

—It was my best material, Your Majesty.

Minho slowly rose from the throne. The whole room tensed up.

She descended the steps until she stood before him. Much taller. Much more intimidating.

And yet, Jisung did not back down.

The king adjusted a crooked bell on the jester's costume with a delicacy completely out of place.

"You're embarrassing," he muttered.

—But you still call me every night to entertain yourself.

Minho looked up at him. A pause.

Then he barely smiled. Barely.

—Because you are the only one in this kingdom who dares to speak to me as if I were human.