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to survive, to hang on, waiting for the new world to dawn, what can you do but become a leper nobody in the world would deign to touch? — From “Windy Evening,” by Kim Seong-dong. Before I knocked, I took a moment to calm my breathing. But even a couple of deep breaths did nothing to lessen my anxiety, and, to the sound of voices on the other side, I carefully pushed open the thick door.
A female clerk sat at a desk just inside. “How may I help you?” she asked. The room wasn’t as large as I’d imagined.
Directly in my line of sight from the door, I could see a man in his forties sitting with his back to the window. He seemed to be the boss of this office. Read an interview with the author for the story behind the story.
“I’m here to see the prosecutor,” I said. “May I ask your name?” “Uh . .
. my name is Kim Youngjin. I got a phone call yesterday.
” “Ah, please have a seat and wait over there.” Instead of the clerk, it was a man sitting next to her who spoke. He appeared to be the prosecutor’s secretary, and perhaps for that reason I found him very blunt and harsh, though I was too preoccupied to take offense at his tone of voice.
I sat myself in the chair facing them. The prosecutor was talking to someone on the phone. Leaning back in his seat, swivelling this way and that, he spoke in a soft voice, as if he were chatting with a close friend.
“Legal procedure,” “exe.