Park Sunghoon, the sole heir of Wiltshire Dukedom, finds himself questioning every aspect of his life when the old King of Great Britain was deemed ill to rule; therefore, making way for a new age that focuses fine arts and architecture over develop...
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March 21st, 1813
It's been three years since King George III was deemed ill to rule the Kingdom. Three years have passed by, yet the economic, social, and political change drastically in our favor. Three years since the Kingdom was known for its opulence and elegance grabbing achievements left to right in fine arts and architecture.
It's quite the irony for one nobleman, the festivity encompassing the Kingdom—the nobility and royalty to be precise—extravagant balls, sham-laced pleasantries, and tart-face noblewomen. Park Sunghoon loathed it, he loathed everything the nobilities are doing right now; yet instead of speaking his grievances, he swallowed it like a lethal poison seeping through his vessels restlessly.
Why?
Sunghoon's personality hinders him to convey his opinions to his parents and nobles of his age. He's not fiery, extrovert, and jovial; he's leaning more on being introvert, collected, and self-preservation. Sunghoon's personality is like the mist on the alps caressing the sheeps' fleeces: Calm yet unpredictable.
Three years since he began questioning every minuscule thing. Why won't the nobilities like the commoners learn equestrian etiquette? Is proper courtship necessary? Why are flowers needed from day-to-day life? Lastly, what is a flower?
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A well-practiced soft knock broke Sunghoon's stupor, he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat to loosen his shirt collar. He glanced at the door and spoke, "Come in."
A middle-aged woman donned in a typical maid attire entered swiftly inside Sunghoon's room. She curtsied at him and carefully pass a letter to him.
"What is this for? Mrs.Baek?" He cocked an eyebrow to the maid before receiving the letter. "Is this the invitation to the ball?"
"Yes, Young Master Sunghoon. Lord Park told me to send this letter."
"Is that so?" He coldly brushed off the maid, he stared at the maid. "Aren't you leaving? You're excused."
The maid's eyes were restless yet she offered a thin smile. "Lord Park asked me to dress you. Young Master Sim is in the receiving room already with Young Mistress."
