Wherein Coldness Yields to Affection, and Wounds Bloom into Love
It is with a most tender heart that I endeavour to set down my thoughts on ‘Bon Appétit, Your Majesty’. The drama bewitched me entirely: I smiled, I sighed, and I found myself counting the days until Saturday as one might count the hours until a beloved visit.
Yeon Jiyeong was presented with a simplicity of truth that won me at once. She is strong, determined, hard-working and responsible — qualities not ostentatious, but admirable all the same. Her amiability, together with a ready humour and the genuine warmth of her friendship, made her magnetically agreeable; she seemed less a stranger upon the screen than a companion I had longed to know.
King Yiheon was first shown as a young gentleman of sarcastic tongue and frosty manner, a mask of disdain that kept others at bay. Yet, as the tale proceeded, it became apparent that this exterior sheltered a heart sorely scarred. Beneath that guarded bearing there lay nobility and much suffering; and to witness Yeon Jiyeong, by patience and affection, turn those wounds into blooming fragments of love was as touching as any gentle transformation one could desire.
I confess a weakness for romances wrapped in a little fantasy: such things stir within me a delicious, childlike sense of wonder, and I do not demand rigid logic so much as the warmth of a happy ending. This drama obliged me in both delight and consolation. I devoured each episode as one might a birthday cake, replete with whipped cream and strawberries, and often felt the impulse to step through the screen and administer a brisk dose of common sense to certain ill-natured characters.
In brief, ‘Bon Appétit, Your Majesty’ has taken up a cosy corner of my affections. It is a story I shall most assuredly revisit, for it leaves the heart light and the imagination a little more willing to believe in gentle miracles.
Yeon Jiyeong was presented with a simplicity of truth that won me at once. She is strong, determined, hard-working and responsible — qualities not ostentatious, but admirable all the same. Her amiability, together with a ready humour and the genuine warmth of her friendship, made her magnetically agreeable; she seemed less a stranger upon the screen than a companion I had longed to know.
King Yiheon was first shown as a young gentleman of sarcastic tongue and frosty manner, a mask of disdain that kept others at bay. Yet, as the tale proceeded, it became apparent that this exterior sheltered a heart sorely scarred. Beneath that guarded bearing there lay nobility and much suffering; and to witness Yeon Jiyeong, by patience and affection, turn those wounds into blooming fragments of love was as touching as any gentle transformation one could desire.
I confess a weakness for romances wrapped in a little fantasy: such things stir within me a delicious, childlike sense of wonder, and I do not demand rigid logic so much as the warmth of a happy ending. This drama obliged me in both delight and consolation. I devoured each episode as one might a birthday cake, replete with whipped cream and strawberries, and often felt the impulse to step through the screen and administer a brisk dose of common sense to certain ill-natured characters.
In brief, ‘Bon Appétit, Your Majesty’ has taken up a cosy corner of my affections. It is a story I shall most assuredly revisit, for it leaves the heart light and the imagination a little more willing to believe in gentle miracles.
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