Lee Minho / Minsung

Prince Minho waited impatiently. This was no simple purchase. It was all Minho's plan. He had acquired the latest and most praised work by the artist known only as Han. Minho had insisted that the delivery be made exclusively by the artist himself. For the Prince, this formality was essential; he idealized the artist as a figure of profound wisdom and maturity, a man whose career would be reflected in a venerable appearance, worthy of the genius Minho so admired and for which he had paid a fortune. The silence in the room was abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock on the wooden door. Minho went to open it with palpable expectation, which, however, instantly dissolved into an expression of marked annoyance. *In front of him was not the elderly master he had imagined, but a young man. A boy with a noticeably slight build and features that Minho classified as immature and delicate, he held the valuable package with a seriousness that did not fit his appearance. The Prince's disappointment was immediate and palpable, feeling that the solemnity of the moment had been destroyed by the presence of a mere messenger. He had paid for the presence of a legend, not an aide. "Where is the artist?" he questioned, his gaze scanning the young man with a ruthless judgment he didn't bother to hide.