The sky was heavy, laden like molten lead, as relentless rain poured down in torrents, battering the trees surrounding the imposing Jun Mansion. Each drop seemed to hammer the leaves, creating a steady, hypnotic rhythm while makeshift streams snaked through the waterlogged grounds. The mansion's glass windows, framed by delicate carvings of dark wood, were fogged by the humidity but still reflected the flickering glow of candles burning inside.
The Jun Mansion, an ancestral structure of intricately crafted wood adorned with details that whispered tales of glory and power, seemed alive under the stormy sky. Every element, from its curved roofs to its ornate columns, exuded an aura of authority and tradition. Yet, the darkness enveloping the mansion felt like more than just the consequence of the storm.
Inside, in the grand sitting room, Mr. Jun sat in a carved armchair adorned with dragon ornaments. The chair's high back and arms reinforced his commanding presence. A middle-aged man with features weathered by time and a piercing gaze that seemed to see beyond the visible, he wore a black silk robe embroidered with golden dragons, their shimmering forms catching the dim light of the crackling fire in the hearth.
In his hands, he held an ancient scroll, his fingers firm yet deliberate, as if the object carried a symbolic weight beyond its contents. His dark eyes moved slowly over the words, as though each line held secrets he needed to uncover. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried, hesitant footsteps echoed from the entrance hall. The floorboards groaned under the weight of wet boots, followed by the distinct creak of heavy wooden doors being opened. Mr. Jun lifted his gaze, his expression impassive, though his posture betrayed a flicker of irritation at the interruption.
A messenger entered the room, completely drenched. His clothes clung to his body, and he trembled slightly, a mixture of cold and nerves. Each of his movements was cautious, as though he feared the consequences of his intrusion.
Mr. Jun: "Who dares disturb my peace on a day like this?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade—low but brimming with authority.
The messenger immediately fell to his knees, his head bowed in a gesture of submission. His trembling hands held a sealed cylinder bearing the imperial emblem, while raindrops dripped from his hair onto the polished floor.
Messenger: "Your Excellency, I beg your pardon for my audacity. I bring an urgent decree from the Emperor!" His voice was tense, almost pleading, every word a supplication for clemency.
Mr. Jun rose slowly, his movements deliberate and measured, as if to emphasize his superiority. He approached the messenger with firm steps, the sound of his sandals echoing in the silent room.
Mr. Jun: "A decree from the Emperor?" he murmured, extending his hand to take the cylinder.
He inspected the imperial seal carefully, as though every detail might reveal something beyond the official message. Only then, with meticulous precision, did he break the seal and unroll the scroll.
Mr. Jun: "An unexpected honor," he commented, though his expression remained neutral.
The messenger, still kneeling, tried in vain to wipe the rain from his face as it dripped from his soaked hair. He dared not lift his gaze but could feel the tension in the room mounting as Mr. Jun read the scroll's contents.
Mr. Jun's eyes moved slowly over the text, his expression hardening as he read. He closed the scroll with a firm motion, his demeanor now somber.
Mr. Jun: "An arranged marriage..." he murmured to himself, pacing the room with his hands clasped behind his back. "With the Third Prince, no less."
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, the messenger cleared his throat nervously, as though trying to ease the growing tension.
Messenger: "Yes, Your Excellency. The Emperor wishes for one of your daughters to marry the Third Prince to strengthen the bonds between the houses." His voice trembled slightly, but he kept his head bowed, awaiting Mr. Jun's response.
Mr. Jun stopped abruptly, turning to face the messenger. His gaze was sharp as a blade, and his words came slowly, each one carefully considered before being spoken.
Mr. Jun: "The Third Prince... his reputation is dark. I have heard of his volatile temper and his... eccentricities."
He let the sentence hang in the air, but the messenger understood the unspoken disdain. The silence that followed was as heavy as the storm clouds outside, and the sound of rain against the windows seemed louder than ever.
The messenger, clearly uncomfortable, attempted to ease the situation.
Messenger: "They are only rumors, Your Excellency. The Emperor firmly believes this union will bring prosperity and glory to your family."
Mr. Jun stood in the center of the room, still holding the now-folded scroll. His rigid posture reflected the growing tension within him, though his face remained unreadable. The firelight cast shadows over his stern features, accentuating the deep lines etched by time and responsibility.
Mr. Jun: "Glory, you say? It is also said that the Third Prince has a peculiar habit of... disposing of his wives."
Messenger: "Lies! Baseless gossip!" the messenger blurted hastily, though his voice trembled as he spoke.