Third person pov-
Joonwoo walked out from behind the curtain, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He didn't glance back at the princess, didn't bother to check if she was still crying. He just kept walking, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.
He made his way back to his room, his mind still reeling with thoughts of the princess. But as he sat down on the bed, he pushed those thoughts aside. He didn't have time for them, didn't have the luxury of indulging in emotions.
He took a deep breath, focusing on the present moment. He had a duty to fulfill, a mission to complete. And he wouldn't let anything, or anyone, get in his way.
He sat there for a long time, his eyes fixed on the wall as he willed his self to focus. Slowly but surely, his thoughts began to clear, his mind sharpening as he pushed aside all distractions.
He was lost in thought when he heard a gentle knock on the door. "Enter," he said, his voice firm and detached.
The door slid open, and a maid bowed low as she entered the room. She was carrying a plate full of fresh fruits, but he barely registered the sight. His expression remained neutral, his eyes fixed on some point beyond her.
She placed the plate on the low table in front of him, her eyes cast downward in respect. He didn't acknowledge her, didn't even nod. He just kept staring, his face a mask of indifference.
The maid bowed again, her face expressionless, and then turned and walked out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her. He remained seated, his eyes still fixed on the same point, his expression unchanging.
The plate of fruits sat in front of him, untouched and unacknowledged. He didn't even glance at it. His mind was elsewhere, focused on the tasks ahead.
His gaze fell on the plate of fruits, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the selection. His eyes landed on the mangos, and for a moment, he felt a spark of anger ignite within him . Mangos, India's most famous fruit, a symbol of the country that had been his family's enemy for so long.
But he pushed the anger down, forcing himself to remain calm. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the mangos. He wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He was a warrior, a soldier. He had to maintain his composure, no matter what.
He looked away from the mangos, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the fruits. The anger was still there, simmering just below the surface, but he kept it in check. He wouldn't let it consume him.Not now, not ever.
He reached out and picked up the mangos, his fingers closing around them like a vice. For a moment, he just held them, feeling the weight of them in his hand. And then, with a swift and sudden motion, he threw them out of the window.
The mangos sailed through the air, their bright yellow skin glowing in the fading light of day. They landed with a soft thud on the grass below, rolling away from the window like tiny, discarded balls.
He stood there, his chest heaving slightly with exertion, and watched as the mangos came to rest on the lawn. It was a small, petty act of defiance, but it made him feel slightly better. He had rejected the symbol of India, had cast it aside like so much rubbish.
He turned away from the window, his eyes scanning the room once more. The plate that had held the mangos was still sitting on the table, empty and forlorn. He felt a small, cruel smile twist his lips as he looked at it. Good riddance, He thought.
As he turned away from the window, he began to prepare for the dinner event that the Chinese king had told him about. He walked over to the wardrobe and started to change into his traditional Korean attire.
He carefully put on his hanbok, a beautiful, intricately designed garment that was a staple of Korean culture. The hanbok was a symbol of his heritage, and he felt a sense of pride and connection to my roots as he put it on.
He adjusted the sleeves and the collar, making sure that everything was perfectly in place. He then added a traditional Korean hat, called a gat, to complete his outfit.
As he looked at him self in the mirror, he felt a sense of satisfaction and confidence. He knew that he looked dignified and respectful, and that he would make a good impression at the dinner.
He took one final look at him self, making sure that everything was perfect. And then, with a sense of calm and confidence, he headed out the door to attend the dinner event.
He couldn't help but think of the North Indian princess. He wondered if she would be at the dinner event, and if so, what she would be like. Would she be the same distant, cold person he had met earlier?
He also couldn't help but think about why she had been crying. What had caused her so much pain? He felt a pang of curiosity, and maybe even a little bit of concern. But he quickly pushed those feelings aside.
He reminded hisself that she was an Indian princess, a member of the royal family that had been at odds with his own people for so long. He tried to stir up feelings of hatred and resentment towards her, but they wouldn't come.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
He walked into the grand, ancient Chinese room, his footsteps echoing off the stone floors. The room was filled with kings, princes, and princesses from all corners of the empire, their fine silks and jewels glinting in the soft light.
As he entered, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to him. He stood tall, his shoulders back, his eyes scanning the room with a quiet confidence. He knew that he is a warrior, a fighter, and that he had earned his place among these nobles.
The princesses, in particular, seemed to be staring at him , their eyes wide with curiosity and admiration. He could feel their gazes on him , like a gentle touch on his skin. He didn't react, didn't acknowledge their attention. He simply stood there, his expression calm and neutral.
As he looked around the room, he saw the Chinese king sitting on his throne, a warm smile on his face. He nodded at him , and he bowed his head slightly in response.
The room was filled with the sound of whispers and rustling silks, as the nobles began to murmur among themselves. He stood there, his eyes scanning the room, his presence commanding attention.
As Princess of Japan approached him , he tried to be courteous and respectful, but he couldn't help himself from being distant. He looked at her, taking in her delicate features and the intricate designs on her kimono, and he could tell that she was from Japan.
She tried to engage him in conversation, asking him about his interests and hobbies, but he found his self drawn to more serious topics. He began to discuss the intricacies of war and politics, the strategies and tactics employed by different kingdoms.
Princess of japan listened intently, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, but he could tell that she was struggling to keep up with him train of thought. She tried to steer the conversation towards more personal topics, asking him about his family and his life back in Korea.
But he politely declined to answer, his expression neutral. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss my personal life, Princess," he said, his voice firm but respectful. "My duty is to serve my kingdom, and I must prioritize its interests above all else."
Princess of japan looked slightly taken aback, but she nodded graciously and tried to change the subject. He appreciated her tact, but he knew that he had to maintain his boundaries. He couldn't let himself get drawn into personal conversations or emotional entanglements. His focus had to remain on his duty, his kingdom, and his people.
As Princess of Japan continued to talk about her hobbies, he nodded politely, trying to appear interested. But his attention was diverted when he saw two kings, dressed in elaborate robes, walking towards the middle table.
They whispered something in the ears of the other kings, and he saw a sudden spark of interest ignite in their eyes. They began to murmur among themselves, their voices low and excited.
He caught snippets of their conversation, and his eyes widened in surprise. "She's even more beautiful than this afternoon," one of the kings whispered. "I've never seen anyone like her."
Another king nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with lust. "I know, I saw her earlier, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. She's a true goddess."
He felt a pang of disgust at their behavior. These men were kings, leaders of their respective kingdoms, and yet they were acting like common lechers. Some of them were even married, but they didn't seem to care. They were too busy salivating over the North Indian princess.
He glanced around the room, noticing that the other guests were also buzzing with excitement. The atmosphere was electric, and he could feel the tension building.
Princess of japan sensing my distraction, touched my arm. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her voice concerned.
He nodded, trying to compose hisself. "Yes, everything is fine. I just...I think the North Indian princess is about to arrive."
Japanese Princess's eyes widened in interest, and she leaned in closer. "I've heard she's beautiful," she whispered. "I'm eager to meet her."
He nodded, trying to share her enthusiasm. But inside, he was seething with disgust at the behavior of the other kings. They were acting like animals, and it was unbecoming of their station.