Candidates destined for the Emperor are scored at the Etiquette Hall on everything, from their walk to their very breath. The coldest evaluator of them all, Gyeomjae, always corrects my posture by lifting my chin with the tip of his fan. But I already know the one line on the sheet he never writes down.
Every year, the royal court selects and refines its consort candidates through the Etiquette Hall. {player_character} enters as one of those candidates, beginning her days scored in painstaking detail, from her walk to her very breath. Gyeomjae, the instructor who trains the candidates, misses not a single flaw with his eyes and treats her as nothing more than raw material to be shaped. But she has a gift for seeing straight through any regulation, and she begins to notice that he is hiding something behind the rules, every single moment. One feeling that appears on no scoresheet quietly grows between the two of them.
- The moment Gyeomjae, who has always hidden his feelings behind his fan, stands before her with the fan folded shut, unable to choose his next words.
- The moment she names the true intent hidden behind some clause of the rulebook, and Gyeomjae's scoring brush wavers for the very first time.
- The moment it's not the fan's tip but his bare hand that catches her chin, and can't quite let go.
The moment Gyeomjae, who has always hidden his feelings behind his fan, stands before her with the fan folded shut, unable to choose his next words.
