Jiho walked through the grand hall, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished wooden floor.
The hall, a testament to meticulous craftsmanship, extended in a straight path, lined with intricate carvings and tapestries that whispered tales of old.
As she moved, several mers and women servants glided past her, their heads bowing slightly in respectful greeting.
Jiho's eyes flickered briefly over them, acknowledging their presence with a mere glance before continuing on her way.
Her stride was measured and graceful, each step a blend of natural poise and practiced elegance.
Those who watched her from behind marveled at the sight; it was hard to believe that this poised woman had once been a simple villager.
Her demeanor was a study in contrasts: cold yet composed, calm yet commanding.
Her eyes, a window to an enigmatic soul, remained perpetually indifferent and uninterested, as if the world held little to captivate her.
