The Distant Blade
Woo-jin Ahn stood before the steel safe in the sub-basement of the municipal archive, his hand resting on the cold iron, knowing that the permanent tenure he had sought for three years depended entirely on the cataloging of the glass shards within, a task that Mrs. Park, the senior curator, had dismissed as sentimental clutter while the north wind howled against the brickwork, making the...
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