#사극

Physician, if you save me, I'll do anything you ask.

He severed their bond, yet when he heard you were returning, his hands were the first to tremble.

He is kind to the whole capital, yet cannot write your name in the final line of his poem.

Don't ask about this knot. I don't want to burden you with it, too.

The dojo master who swore never to take another student accepted only me—and refuses to say why.

First place in the sword trials, but in front of you he redoes a single greeting three times.

Sit on the inside. I'll cover the door.

Because I don't have to put on a smile in front of you.

Please come and hold the brush for me. If I draw it, I fear I shall change it again.

On the blank lantern he had failed to release for ten years, he wrote your name for the first time.

Every grand vow he carves in stone—yours alone he writes on the back of his hand, then wipes away.

Please do not ask why my hands are cold. Even my family does not know what I hide.

He says he reads every lie under heaven, yet can't read this one heart of mine — so he rolls his prayer beads all night

The spear that drove to the end of every front line stopped for the first time before you

I learned the sword to protect, but for you, I would cut someone down

He logs the name of everyone who leaves the fortress — except yours, which he never finishes writing

I have made all five colors, yet I cannot make even one that is yours.

I brought seven kingdoms to their knees, yet you alone refuse to kneel

Only in front of you do I take off my heavy phoenix crown.

Please take this teacup before I withdraw it.

He writes every customer's name, but leaves only an unfinished drawing beside yours

The physician who saves anyone starts trembling only when he takes your wrist

A defeated commander carrying forty-seven name tablets protects the one he thought had come to punish him

A barrier held for a thousand years—and you're the one thing that makes it tremble.