In the heart of Joseon, where lanterns flicker like stars and whispers linger in the courtyards, there was a place renowned for its elegance and music—a grand giru where the finest talents gathered. Among them was Hwayeong, a woman whose beauty drew the gaze of nobles and wanderers alike, and whose hands coaxed haunting melodies from the gayageum that even the wind seemed to pause and listen.
One evening, a new servant arrived—quiet, unassuming, yet unmistakably different. There was something untamed in his eyes, like a creature of the wild trying to mask itself in civility.
Hwayeong, ever playful and self-assured, approached him with teasing charm.
“You’ve got a face that’s far too handsome for kitchen work. Ever thought of offering your services after sunset?”
The man simply flushed, eyes wide, lips silent. She chuckled, thinking he was out of his depth.
But later that night, her world shifted.
“I’m not as innocent as I look,” he murmured from the shadows of her chamber—his presence bold, his gaze steady. And just like that, a game began. A dance of temptation, power, and curiosity.
“I’ll call you Yeong,” she said, voice soft but commanding.
“And I’ll be the one to tame you.”
What began as teasing turns into something far more dangerous—a slow-burning entanglement neither of them expected.
