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... a lone grave, set in what people often called a sunlit resting place.

“You know, Woo-Jin.”

As I looked at the headstone, a voice from some distant memory whispered in my ear, gentle as a breeze.

“Woo-Jin. “

I remained silent.

“Hey, Kim Woo-Jin. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

The woman who stepped into the darkness when I was alone in that small room, carrying light in her presence.

“What is it?”

Only after I answered did she smil ...

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