Mr. Jun: "This is a serious proposal, one that will undoubtedly change the fate of one of my daughters." His voice was deep, but beneath it lay a cold determination.
The messenger, still kneeling, leaned forward, his expression a mixture of hope and anxiety.
Messenger: "Your response, Your Excellency?"
Taking a single step forward, Mr. Jun turned to face him, his expression now resolute and unyielding.
Mr. Jun: "Tell the Emperor I am grateful for his consideration, but I cannot accept this request."
The messenger's eyes widened in shock, his voice trembling as he stammered.
Messenger: "But... Your Excellency, refusing an imperial decree—"
Mr. Jun: "I will not compromise the well-being and happiness of one of my daughters in a marriage without her consent." His voice was sharp, cutting off any further discussion.
The messenger, pale and visibly distressed, rose hesitantly. He stumbled as he retreated, his murmurs barely audible over the sound of the storm.
Messenger: "The Emperor will kill me..." he sobbed, tears mixing with the rain streaming down his face as he backed into the storm.
The storm seemed to grow fiercer as the messenger disappeared into the torrential, misty rain. Raindrops pounded against the windows like impatient fingers, and the wind howled through unseen cracks, its mournful cries mirroring Mr. Jun's own troubled thoughts.
He moved slowly to the nearest window, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched the messenger stumble through the muddy courtyard. The man's silhouette vanished into the rain, leaving only a fleeting sense of relief in the room. But the weight of the decision lingered.
For a moment, Mr. Jun stood motionless, watching the streams of water dance across the glass, their patterns illuminated by the flickering firelight. He knew defying an imperial decree was a dangerous affront, one that could unleash immeasurable repercussions. Yet the thought of entrusting one of his daughters to the Third Prince—a man with a reputation as dark as the storm—was unthinkable.
"A peculiar habit of disposing of wives..." The words echoed in his mind like a mournful bell. Tales of the Third Prince's volatile temper and his tragic marital history were more than idle gossip; they were warnings shrouded in fear. Mr. Jun could not ignore them.
He exhaled deeply, as if trying to expel the weight of his worries, and returned to his ornate chair. Lowering himself into it with deliberate grace, he tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, his eyes fixed on the flames dancing in the hearth.
He was acutely aware that his refusal would not go unnoticed. The Emperor was not a man who tolerated defiance, and the court was filled with opportunists eager to weaponize this rejection against him. But his resolve was unwavering. Protecting his daughters was worth any political consequence.
The faint sound of footsteps broke his reverie. Turning his head, he saw a servant cautiously enter the room, carrying a tray with steaming tea. The young man placed the tray on a side table, keeping his head bowed in deference.
Mr. Jun: "Servant!" His voice resonated through the room.
Servant: "Yes, Master Jun." The servant bowed deeply.
Mr. Jun: "I want you to investigate all eligible men of good reputation in the kingdom." His tone was firm, carrying the weight of command. "Under no circumstances will my daughters marry the Third Prince."
The servant nodded quickly, his eyes never meeting Mr. Jun's.
Servant: "Yes, Master Jun." He exited the room as swiftly as he had entered.
Left alone once more, Mr. Jun picked up the scroll, his fingers brushing over the broken seal. He opened it again, scrutinizing the words with meticulous care, as if searching for some loophole, some justification he could present to the Emperor. But the decree was unequivocal. Its intent was clear, and there was no escaping its implications.
The fire crackled, casting golden light over the text. With a sharp motion, Mr. Jun closed the scroll, his expression hardening.
"Let the consequences come," he thought, rising once more. His tall, imposing silhouette loomed against the wall, the embodiment of a man who had chosen family above all else.
Outside, the storm continued to rage, the heavens waging their own battle. Rain lashed the earth with relentless force, turning the world into a tableau of desolation. Trees swayed violently, their skeletal branches clawing at the wind as it howled like a ghostly lament.
The messenger trudged through the mud, his drenched robes weighing him down. Each step sank into the mire as if the very ground sought to claim him. The imperial decree, now clutched in his trembling hands, seemed a symbol of his humiliation. The once-pristine parchment was frayed at the edges, its words beginning to blur in the unyielding rain.
Pausing beneath a solitary, leafless tree, the messenger looked up, his face streaked with rain and tears. The branches above offered no shelter, only a cruel mockery of reprieve.
Messenger: "The hundredth mansion to refuse..." he murmured, despair heavy in his voice. "Does no one understand the Emperor's will?"
A sudden gust tore the scroll from his hands. He watched helplessly as it was carried away by the wind, vanishing into the storm's embrace. He made no move to retrieve it. His strength was spent, his spirit broken. Shoulders slumped, he stood motionless, the rain his only companion.
Back in the Jun Mansion, the sitting room offered a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The warmth of the fire filled the space, its light casting dancing shadows on the richly adorned walls. But the serenity was deceptive. In the flickering glow, Mr. Jun stood as a man who had chosen defiance, fully aware of the storm he would unleash.