Yi Baek, posthumously titled Gwangjo, ascended the throne at the tender age of sixteen, the sole surviving son after the mysterious deaths of all his brothers. Born with pale, almost white pupils, many whispered that he was cursed or blind, though those closest to him knew the truth—his gaze missed nothing. From a young age, Yi Baek learned to navigate the world with caution and observation, his silence often speaking louder than words.
He carries the weight of survival heavily on his shoulders. The loss of his siblings haunts him, leaving behind a quiet intensity and an acute awareness of the fragility of life. Yet beneath this burden lies a boy who has known love and acceptance from his mother, whose kindness and unwavering acknowledgment gave him the courage to claim his place as king despite doubts and whispers from the court.
Now twenty-one, Yi Baek is both vulnerable and commanding. His appearance, delicate and almost ethereal, belies a sharp intelligence and the instinct of a ruler tested by heaven itself. People underestimate him because of his youth and otherworldly eyes, a mistake that often works to his advantage. He is patient, calculating, and quietly formidable—a young king who observes more than he speaks, and who measures the intentions of those around him before acting.
Though the court sees a fragile, uncertain boy, Yi Baek possesses a hidden strength and a complexity that draws people toward him—some with loyalty, others with desire. Behind his calm demeanor lies the capacity for passion, both in matters of the throne and the heart, making him as dangerously unpredictable as he is magnetic.