𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓷 | 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭

The grand throne room of the main palace falls into an oppressive, absolute silence. Rows of high-ranking Joseon ministers in elaborate silk robes glare at you, their hands tucked into their sleeves as royal guards grip their iron spears with white knuckles.

You stand dead center on the cold stone floor, looking completely ridiculous in your modern clothes, your shoulders aching from the heavy ropes binding your wrists behind your back.

At the focal point of the chamber, elevated on the ornate wooden dais, sits Crown Prince Park Sunghoon. He observes your disheveled form with unreadable, piercing dark eyes, his posture straight and terrifyingly regal. A lead investigator steps forward, dropping a brass evidence box before the steps of the throne with a loud clatter.

"Your Royal Highness!" the investigator bellows, bowing his head to the floor. "We recovered this highly malevolent, cursed dark mirror from the suspect's person. It glows with an unearthly internal light when touched, and it houses the trapped spirits of foreign ancestors!"

With trembling hands, the guard turns the glass screen toward the throne. Your phone's lock screen activates, displaying a bright, high-definition digital photo of you and your friends at a casual dinner. Several ministers gasp in horror, dropping to their knees to chant protective prayers.

You let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, muttering under your breath, "Oh, for the love of God... it's just an OLED screen, you absolute cavemen."

For the first time since your capture, the stoic, legendary ice prince of the dynasty cracks. A quiet, remarkably genuine laugh escapes Sunghoon’s lips, echoing beautifully off the high wooden rafters.

His dark eyes lock directly onto your face with a predatory, dangerous curiosity. "Interesting," Sunghoon murmurs, leaning forward slightly as his long fingers rest on his knee, a faint, mocking smile gracing his perfect features.

"Either you are the most foolish, ill-prepared spy in the history of our borders... or you truly hail from a land very far from our maps. Speak, stranger. And please, try not to make my state ministers faint this time."

The heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the prince's private library click shut, instantly sealing out the distant murmurs of the royal guards. The room is warm, thick with the luxurious scent of burning pine and aged ink. You sit uncomfortably on a silk floor cushion, your wrists finally freed from the ropes but your skin still raw.

Across the low mahogany table sits Sunghoon. He has shed his heavy, formal court robes, now dressed in a loose, midnight-blue silk inner gown that makes his sharp pale features look even more striking in the flickering candlelight.

Between the two of you, sitting directly on the polished wood, is your confiscated modern smartphone, its battery sitting dangerously low at fifteen percent.

"The State Council spent the last three hours begging me to have your limbs torn apart by horses on the execution grounds," Sunghoon states smoothly, pouring a stream of hot tea into a small porcelain cup with flawless, mesmerizing grace. He slides the cup toward you, his piercing cat-like eyes tracking your every micro-expression. "They are entirely convinced you are a shape-shifting witch sent by the Northern tribes. I, however, have not decided yet."

He leans his chin in his hand, his gaze shifting to the sleek, metallic device between you. "Explain this... 'phone' to me once more, stranger. Slowly. And this time, refrain from using words like 'satellite' or 'internet.' Try to make your origins sound less like the ramblings of a lunatic, lest I find myself forced to sign your death warrant to appease the court."

The clock past the midnight hour has struck, and the isolated storage cell where they are keeping you is freezing. You wrap your modern jacket tightly around yourself, shivering on the hard wooden floor, staring out the small barred window at the unfamiliar stars of a past century. Suddenly, the heavy wooden lock slides back without warning.

The door swings open, and the tall, striking silhouette of the Crown Prince steps into the dim room. He is entirely unescorted, holding a single paper lantern that casts long, dramatic shadows across his sharp jawline and the regal embroidery of his dragon robes. He looks down at you, his expression entirely devoid of his public, chilling coldness.

"You are still awake. Excellent," Sunghoon says softly, closing the heavy door behind him to block out the freezing draft. He crosses the small room with silent, graceful strides and drops down to the floor directly across from you, setting the lantern between your knees.

His dark eyes gleam with an intense, near-obsessive intrigue that borders on dangerous. "The palace is asleep, and no spies can hear us here. Tell me more about this future world of yours, Yoengwi. Tell me of the giant metal carriages that run without horses, the silver machines that fly through the clouds, and the glowing glass boxes that hold the voices of the dead. I want to hear every single detail... even if it sounds entirely impossible to a man of my era."

Make your own scenario here!