The Sleeping Beauty

In the golden age of the Silla Dynasty, when the capital city of Gyeongju was renowned throughout Asia for its magnificent palaces and learned scholars, there lived a princess named Yeon-hwa whose beauty was legendary even among the celestial beings. Her father, King Munmu, ruled with wisdom and compassion, and her mother, Queen Jiseon, was beloved for her kindness and grace.

Princess Yeon-hwa possessed not only extraordinary physical beauty—with skin like moonlight on snow and eyes that sparkled like stars reflected in mountain lakes—but also a brilliant mind and a compassionate heart. She could compose poetry that moved listeners to tears, paint landscapes so realistic that birds tried to perch on her painted branches, and speak seven languages fluently.

On the princess’s eighteenth birthday, the royal court prepared the most magnificent celebration the kingdom had ever seen. Nobles arrived from distant provinces, bringing gifts of silk, jade, and precious gems. Foreign ambassadors came bearing exotic treasures from lands across the sea. The palace gardens bloomed with every flower known in Korea, and the air filled with the sweet melodies of traditional instruments.

But unknown to the celebrating court, an ancient and bitter sorceress named Mago-halmeoni watched from the shadows. Centuries ago, she had been banished from the kingdom for practicing dark magic, and her heart had hardened into a vessel of pure revenge.

“So,” the sorceress muttered as she observed the joyous celebration through her crystal ball, “the kingdom celebrates their precious princess while forgetting the wise woman they cast out. Let them learn the price of their ingratitude.”

As the birthday festivities reached their peak, with Princess Yeon-hwa graciously accepting congratulations from hundreds of guests, a cold wind suddenly swept through the palace grounds. The musicians’ instruments fell silent, the flowers wilted instantly, and an unnatural darkness descended despite the afternoon sun.

Mago-halmeoni materialized in the center of the great hall, her appearance causing gasps of terror throughout the crowd. She wore robes that seemed to be woven from shadows and storm clouds, and her eyes glowed with malevolent fire.

“Your Majesty,” the sorceress said with mock courtesy, bowing sarcastically to the king, “how generous of you to celebrate your daughter’s coming of age without inviting the wisest woman in all the land.”

King Munmu stepped forward protectively. “Mago-halmeoni, you were banished for good reason. You have no place in our kingdom or our celebrations.”

The sorceress laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “Perhaps not. But I have brought a gift for the princess nonetheless—a gift that will teach this kingdom the value of wisdom and patience.”

Before anyone could react, Mago-halmeoni raised her staff and pointed it directly at Princess Yeon-hwa. Dark energy swirled around the princess as the sorceress spoke her curse:

“Beautiful princess, admired by all, you have lived in light and joy, never knowing sorrow or hardship. But true beauty and true love can only be recognized by those who understand both light and darkness. Therefore, I curse you to fall into a deep sleep before the sun sets on your eighteenth year—a sleep from which you can only be awakened by someone who loves you not for your beauty alone, but for the true essence of who you are.”

“Wait!” Queen Jiseon cried desperately. “Surely there must be a way to break this curse completely!”

The sorceress paused, a cruel smile playing at her lips. “Perhaps. If someone can be found who truly understands the nature of love—who can love without seeing, who can remain faithful without reward, who can find beauty in darkness—then yes, the curse can be broken. But,” she added with a harsh laugh, “such love is rarer than diamonds and more precious than all the gold in your treasury.”

With those words, Mago-halmeoni vanished in a swirl of black smoke, leaving the court in stunned silence.

True to the curse, as the sun began to set on Princess Yeon-hwa’s eighteenth birthday, she grew drowsy despite all efforts to keep her awake. She fell into a deep, peaceful sleep in her silk-curtained bed, looking as beautiful as ever but completely unreachable.

The royal physicians could do nothing. The court magicians tried every spell and potion they knew. Buddhist monks chanted prayers day and night, and Confucian scholars consulted ancient texts, but nothing could wake the sleeping princess.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. The palace became a place of quiet mourning, with servants moving like ghosts through halls that had once echoed with laughter and music. The king and queen aged rapidly from grief and worry, watching helplessly as their beloved daughter slept year after year.

News of the cursed princess spread throughout Asia, and suitors came from every kingdom hoping to wake her with a kiss or a declaration of love. Princes arrived with armies, wealthy merchants brought chests of gold, and scholars came with books of ancient wisdom. One by one, they all failed.

“She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” declared a prince from China after his unsuccessful attempt.

“I would make her the richest woman in the world,” proclaimed a merchant from India.

“I could teach her the deepest secrets of philosophy,” claimed a scholar from Japan.

But none of them could wake the sleeping princess, because their love was based on what they could see or what they could gain, not on who she truly was as a person.

Years passed, and the kingdom began to lose hope. Many people forgot about the sleeping princess, and some even began to think of her as merely a legend.

But in a small mountain village far from the capital, there lived a young man named Joon-seo who had grown up hearing the story of Princess Yeon-hwa. Unlike others who were drawn by tales of her beauty or wealth, Joon-seo was captivated by stories of her kindness, intelligence, and artistic talents.

Joon-seo was a humble potter, but he possessed an extraordinary gift—he could sense the true nature of people’s hearts. This ability had made him something of an outcast in his village, as people felt uncomfortable around someone who could see through their pretenses.

“Why do you care so much about a princess you’ve never met?” his friend Min-ho asked as they worked clay on their wheels.

“I don’t know,” Joon-seo replied thoughtfully. “But from everything I’ve heard about her, she sounds like someone I would want to know—not because she’s a princess, but because of who she is as a person. She sounds lonely, even before the curse, surrounded by people who only saw her surface beauty.”

For years, Joon-seo had dreamed of somehow meeting Princess Yeon-hwa and having conversations with her about art, poetry, and the deeper meanings of life. When he finally decided to travel to the capital, it wasn’t to try to wake her for glory or reward, but simply because he felt a deep connection to her spirit.

The journey took weeks, and when Joon-seo finally arrived at the palace, the guards almost turned him away.

“Another peasant seeking to wake the princess for fame and fortune,” they muttered dismissively.

But something about Joon-seo’s quiet sincerity convinced them to let him pass. When he entered the chamber where Princess Yeon-hwa lay sleeping, surrounded by withered flowers and offerings from failed suitors, Joon-seo felt his heart fill with gentle sadness.

“Your Highness,” he said softly, kneeling beside her bed, “I know you cannot hear me, but I wanted you to know that someone understands your loneliness. I’ve spent my life seeing into people’s hearts, and I can sense that yours is beautiful not because of your face or your royal blood, but because of your compassion and wisdom.”

He began to speak to the sleeping princess as if she were awake, telling her about his pottery, his thoughts about art and beauty, his dreams of creating something that would bring joy to others. For hours, he sat beside her bed, sharing his heart with someone he felt could understand him if only she could hear.

“I know this sounds strange,” Joon-seo continued as evening approached, “but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet someone like you—someone who understands that true beauty comes from within, someone who cares more about creating something meaningful than about being admired.”

As he spoke these words with absolute sincerity, something magical began to happen. The withered flowers around the princess’s bed slowly began to bloom again. The darkness that had settled over the chamber for so many years began to lift, replaced by a warm, golden light.

Princess Yeon-hwa’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked directly into Joon-seo’s surprised face.

“You… you were talking to me,” she said softly, her voice like gentle music after years of silence. “I could hear everything you said. Your words reached me in my dreams.”

Joon-seo’s eyes filled with tears of joy and amazement. “You’re awake! But… but I didn’t kiss you or use magic or offer you riches. I only…”

“You only saw me,” Princess Yeon-hwa finished with a radiant smile. “For the first time in my life, someone looked at me and saw not just a beautiful princess, but a person with thoughts and feelings and dreams. You loved me for who I am, not for what I appear to be.”

As the princess rose from her bed, completely restored after her long sleep, the entire palace began to transform. Colors returned to tapestries that had faded, music filled halls that had been silent, and joy replaced the sorrow that had reigned for so many years.

King Munmu and Queen Jiseon wept with happiness when they saw their daughter awake and well. When they learned how the curse had been broken, they welcomed Joon-seo not as a peasant who had won a prize, but as the son-in-law whose pure heart had saved their beloved daughter.

The wedding of Princess Yeon-hwa and Joon-seo became legendary throughout Korea, not for its magnificence, but for the deep love and understanding that radiated from the couple. They ruled together with wisdom and compassion, and their kingdom became known as a place where people were valued for their character rather than their appearance or wealth.

Even Mago-halmeoni, watching from her distant exile, was forced to admit that her curse had been broken by something she hadn’t expected to find in the world—genuine, selfless love that sees the soul rather than the surface.

And in the palace pottery workshop that Joon-seo established, Princess Yeon-hwa learned to work with clay, creating beautiful vessels while she and her husband continued the conversations about art, life, and love that had first awakened her from her enchanted sleep.

Their story became a beloved tale told throughout Korea, reminding people that true love is not about finding someone perfect, but about seeing the perfect beauty in someone’s imperfect humanity, and choosing to cherish that beauty regardless of what the world might see.