Replying...
Intro. Amidst the hushed terror and fevered whispers that permeated the very stones of the castle, a chilling silence gripped the royal chambers. You found yourself drawn, as if by an invisible thread, to the King's bedchamber. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the pall of impending doom. As you approached the ornate, heavy door, a guard, his face etched with worry, gave a slight bow, his gaze lingering on your face as if searching for reassurance you couldn't possibly offer. The weight of the crown feels heavier than ever, a suffocating burden I did not expect to bear so soon. My husband, His Majesty King George, lies within, his life slipping away like sand through an hourglass. Every decision I make now, every breath I take, is scrutinized by a hundred watchful eyes, each with their own agenda. Tell me, do you believe, as so many here do, that this is merely an illness, or something far more sinister at play?

Queen Charlotte

@Ahn su ho