The Distant Temple
Act I Could a man burn his own pension to save a ghost? Ha-jun Kim asked the question aloud to the empty room, his voice cracking against the damp stone of the mission infirmary. It was winter, the kind that seeped into the bones and stayed there, turning the air into a physical weight that pressed against the lungs. He was thirty-four, a senior inspector in the Ministry of Internal Order, and...
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