Chapter Twenty-Six
Yi Han-saem woke at the fourth hour and the seventh minute of the morning of Friday in March of 2026 on the folded futon of his own anbang of his own house on the slope of Pyeongchang-dong, in the clear cold winter sky of a Friday morning of March 2026, and he was — by the dream — shaking.
The dream had, since the fifth-hour-and-fifth-minute of the morning of Friday March the third of 2026 — three weeks ago by the Western calendar of the Chief of Staff's office at the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong — been the one dream every Friday morning at the fifth hour, and on three of the last five Fridays at the fifth hour and the fifth minute the clock of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang had — by the body of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years — also been the one clock at which the Chief of Staff had, on the folded futon, vomited.
The vomiting had been, on three of the last five Fridays, the one bodily fact of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea whose own bureaucratic body had — by the dream — agreed to be, in the Pyeongchang-dong anbang, the body that vomited.
On this Friday morning at the fourth hour and the seventh minute, the Chief of Staff did not vomit.
He had, at the fourth hour, woken before the fifth.
He had, by three of the last five Fridays, learned that the one bodily defense against the Friday vomiting was the one-hour-earlier waking.
He had, in the fifty-three minutes of the earlier waking, gone to the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the anbang with a pewter cup of water, and he had — in the deliberate way of a man learning, week by week, how to outrun a dream — sat at the bench, holding the cup of water at the ten-centimeter distance from the bench, and breathed.
He breathed, slow and even.
The fifth hour of the morning of Friday in March of 2026 came.
The fifth hour of the morning of Friday in March of 2026 was, by three of the last five Fridays, the fifth hour.
The fifth hour was, on the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the anbang, no longer the hour the Chief of Staff was, on the folded futon, in.
The fifth hour was, on the low pine bench at the eastern wall, the hour the Chief of Staff had — by his own bureaucratic body — already, on the earlier waking, walked through.
He did not, on the low pine bench, vomit.
He breathed.
He took a slow breath.
He set the pewter cup of water down on the low pine bench.
He stood.
He walked, unhurried, from the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the anbang to the low pine desk at the north window.
He sat at the desk.
He took, from the top drawer, the leather notebook of a Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea whose own discipline had been, since the first Friday of March the third of 2026, the discipline of writing the dream down on the pages of the leather notebook on the fifth-hour-and-fifth-minute of the morning of every Friday in March of 2026 — and which, on the earlier waking of the fourth hour and the seventh minute, was — by the earlier waking — going to be, at the fourth-hour-and-twenty-third-minute, written.
He opened the notebook to the next clear page.
He took, from the leather penholder at the right edge of the desk, the silver Montblanc fountain pen his own wife had — in the autumn of two thousand and twenty-five at the Pyeongchang-dong wedding-anniversary dinner at the Hilton Seoul — given him.
He uncapped.
He wrote.
He wrote, in the careful Joseon-court calligrapher's hand of a forty-one-year-old Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea on a Friday morning in March of 2026 in the Pyeongchang-dong anbang at the fourth hour and the twenty-fourth minute:
Friday 3.27. Dream 7.
He paused.
He paused for the count of three breaths.
He wrote:
The willow grove on the south rim of the Geunjeongjeon courtyard was the willow grove of the old courtyard. The willow trees stood. Behind the third willow from the east, a Korean woman.
He paused.
He wrote:
The Korean woman was in a grey hemp jeogori and a grey hemp chima of a kitchen-girl of sixteen years of the lowest rank. Her wrists were hennaed. She was, behind the third willow, hiding. She was nineteen years old.
He paused.
He wrote:
I had, by the previous six Fridays, recognized her. She is, by seven Fridays, the Korean woman.
He paused.
He wrote:
This Friday, the dream was different.
He paused.
He paused for the count of seven breaths.
He wrote:
This Friday, the order I, the Joseon scholar Yi Hwan of the Westerners' faction, had signed at the lower court at six-forty-three on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the first year of King Injo's reign — the order — was, by seven Fridays, no longer the order I had signed.
He paused.
He wrote:
This Friday the order had been signed not by me.
He paused.
He wrote:
This Friday the order had been signed — by the carved wooden bell on the south path at the lower shrine on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the first year of King Injo's reign, and the four-tailed creature of the Joseon-court line at the village butcher's stall at the foot of the east path of Inwangsan — by Bukhansan-sanshin.
He paused.
He paused for the count of three breaths.
He wrote:
This Friday I, the Joseon scholar Yi Hwan of the Westerners' faction in the lower court of the new Joseon-court regime on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month, had — by the carved wooden bell I had been carrying in the left sleeve of my own scholar's robe since the morning of the third day of the third month — already, before signing the order at six-forty-three, been, in the body of the Joseon scholar, by seven Fridays, no longer the Joseon scholar.
He paused.
He paused for the count of seven breaths.
He wrote:
This Friday I was, by seven Fridays, the instrument.
He paused.
He wrote:
The instrument.
He paused.
He wrote:
Of.
He stopped.
He stopped at the clear page of the leather notebook on the low pine desk at the north window of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang at the fourth hour and the twenty-seventh minute of the morning of Friday in March of 2026.
He held the silver Montblanc fountain pen at the one-centimeter distance from the page.
He held.
He breathed.
He wrote:
Of him.
He capped the pen.
He set it down on the leather penholder at the right edge of the desk.
He closed the notebook.
He sat at the desk on a Friday morning in March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the twenty-seventh minute, and he was — by seven Fridays — in the Pyeongchang-dong anbang at the fourth hour and the twenty-eighth minute, afraid.
The fear was, by seven Fridays, the fear.
The fear was, by the leather notebook of his own writing on the desk, the fear of a forty-one-year-old bureaucratic body of a Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea who had — by seven Fridays — been given the piece of his own bureaucratic body that piece had — by the order signed at the lower court at six-forty-three on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the first year of King Injo's reign — not, in the four hundred and three years, been able to give.
The piece was the piece by which the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea had, on the Friday morning at the fourth hour and the twenty-eighth minute, on his own bureaucratic body, finally — in the leather notebook of a dream — read.
The piece was that the Joseon scholar Yi Hwan of the Westerners' faction had not, on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the first year of King Injo's reign, been the creature whose own discipline had given the order to the junior body of the Westerners' faction.
The piece was that the Joseon scholar Yi Hwan of the Westerners' faction had, on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month, been the instrument of an older creature whose own discipline had — by the carved wooden bell at the lower shrine of the south path of Inwangsan on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month — been the discipline of giving the order.
The piece was that the Joseon scholar Yi Hwan had, by seven Fridays, been used.
The piece was that the forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years on the Friday morning at the fourth hour and the twenty-eighth minute had been, by seven Fridays in the Pyeongchang-dong anbang, used.
The piece was that the dream had not, in the seven Fridays, been the dream of a Joseon scholar's guilt.
The piece was that the dream had been the dream of an instrument's residue.
He breathed.
He breathed once and let it out.
He stood from the low pine desk at the north window.
He walked to the low pine bench at the eastern wall.
He sat.
He set the pewter cup of water down on the low pine bench.
He took, from the top drawer of the low pine desk by his own left hand reaching back across the angle the bench permitted, the phone of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea on a Friday morning in March of 2026.
He called.
He called the Director of the Security Bureau of the office of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea.
The Director answered on the second ring at the fourth hour and the thirty-second minute of the morning of Friday in March of 2026:
Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said, in the Joseon-court Korean of a Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea on a Friday morning in March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the thirty-second minute:
Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: The inquiry of the previous five Fridays.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Han Ji-won.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am, on the Friday morning at the fourth hour and the thirty-third minute, on the inquiry, asking.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Where is she.
The Director paused.
The Director paused for the count of three breaths.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The inquiry has, across the five Fridays, been the inquiry on which the two junior officers of the Security Bureau have, by the Chief of Staff's discipline of the quiet unobserved inquiry, been at the unmarked distance.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. On the Sunday morning of the twenty-second of February of 2026, Han Ji-won, twenty-six, A&R at JL Entertainment, residing at the Itaewon officetel at the sixteenth block of Itaewon-ro, did not, by the two junior officers at the unmarked distance, return to her own Itaewon officetel.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Han Ji-won, on the Sunday morning of the twenty-second of February of 2026, walked from the Bukchon compound of Seo Yi-jun, chairman of JL Entertainment, to her own Itaewon officetel by way of Anguk station and Apgujeong station and Wangsimni station and Itaewon station, arriving at seven-twelve a.m.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Han Ji-won did not, by the unmarked distance, leave her own Itaewon officetel for the forty-eight hours and seventeen minutes between seven-twelve a.m. of the Sunday morning of the twenty-second of February and seven-twenty-nine a.m. of the morning of Tuesday the twenty-fourth of February.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. At seven-twenty-nine a.m. of the morning of Tuesday the twenty-fourth of February, Han Ji-won walked from her own Itaewon officetel to the one-room of Choi Min-ji, twenty-seven, vocal coach at JL Entertainment, residing at the Mapo-gu apartment at the fourth block of Mapo-daero — and not to the JL building at seven-fifty-five a.m. of a Tuesday morning of the twenty-fourth of February.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Choi Min-ji.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: The paje-line.
The Director paused.
The Director paused for the count of seven breaths.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The paje-line is, by the two junior officers' research at the National Institute of Korean History since the sixteenth of February of 2026 on the Chief of Staff's request of the Friday the thirteenth, the line of mudang in the Chungcheong-do region whose own discipline of the paje line of Chungcheong-do was, in the spring of the first year of King Injo's reign, on the order signed at the lower court at six-forty-three on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month by Yi Hwan of the Westerners' faction, purged.
The Chief of Staff did not, on the low pine bench, breathe.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Han Ji-won is, by the two junior officers' research, the great-great-great-great-granddaughter of the younger sister of the Joseon-court mudang's daughter Yun Da-eun of the paje line of Chungcheong-do.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Choi Min-ji.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Choi Min-ji is, by the two junior officers' research, the younger-sister-line cousin of Han Ji-won.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Where are they.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. On the Wednesday morning of the twenty-fifth of March of 2026 at six-twenty-three a.m. — the KTX two days ago by the Western calendar — Han Ji-won and Choi Min-ji and a third Korean woman in a black down jacket whose identity the two junior officers have not been able to ascertain in the forty-eight hours that have followed, boarded the first KTX of Seoul Station to Daejeon Station.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. They arrived at Daejeon Station at seven-forty-three a.m.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. They took a Daejeon taxi to Yuseong-gu, Bong-myeong-dong, to the herb garden of Yun Soon-ja, seventy-nine, the grandmother of Han Ji-won on her own mother's side.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yun Soon-ja.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Yun Soon-ja is, by the two junior officers' research, the great-great-granddaughter of the younger sister of the Joseon-court mudang's daughter Yun Da-eun of the paje line of Chungcheong-do — and is, by the Daejeon herbalists' association registry, the one herbalist in Bong-myeong-dong whose own baekhasuo the association has, since the autumn of nineteen-seventy-one, taken at the below-market price.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Han Ji-won, Choi Min-ji, and the third Korean woman have, by the two junior officers at the unmarked distance from the Bong-myeong-dong alley, been in Bong-myeong-dong for the forty-eight hours and thirty-four minutes between eight-eleven a.m. of the morning of Wednesday the twenty-fifth of March of 2026 and the fourth hour and the thirty-third minute of the morning of Friday the twenty-seventh of March of 2026.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The two junior officers, on the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the thirty-fourth minute, have — on the fortieth hour of the Bong-myeong-dong quiet observation — observed that the herb garden of Yun Soon-ja is, on the morning of Friday in March of 2026, on the quiet observation of a low pine maru at the center of the herb garden, the one location in Bong-myeong-dong at which the paje-line is — by seventy-nine years of Yun Soon-ja's discipline — preparing.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Preparing what.
The Director paused.
The Director paused for the count of three breaths.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The two junior officers have, on the fortieth hour, not been able to ascertain.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The two junior officers have, on the fortieth hour, observed that — by the low pine maru at the center of the herb garden in Bong-myeong-dong — the fortieth-hour observation is, by the five-instrument arrangement, going to be performed on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the second year of the president of the Republic of Korea who is, by the Western calendar four days from the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026, the president whose own Chief of Staff is on the low pine bench of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang at the fourth hour and the thirty-fifth minute.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: The morning of the seventh of the fifth month.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Of the second year of the president of the Republic of Korea.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Stand down.
The Director paused.
The Director paused for the count of seven breaths.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The two junior officers are, on the fortieth hour of the Bong-myeong-dong quiet observation, at the unmarked distance.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Stand them down.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The two junior officers are, by the Chief of Staff's inquiry of the Friday the thirteenth of February of 2026, on the Bureau ledger as an unmarked-distance observation tasked at the Chief of Staff's discretion.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The Chief of Staff's discretion has, by the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026, decided.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Stand down at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute. Confirmed.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: The one further request.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am, on the Friday morning at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute, going to be — by the seventh Friday of the dream — at the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong by the eighth hour of the morning of Friday in March of 2026.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am, on the Friday morning, going to ask Han Ji-won — on her returning to Seoul on the Saturday morning of the twenty-eighth of March of 2026 by the first KTX from Daejeon Station to Seoul Station — to come to the Cheong Wa Dae annex on the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am going to ask in the careful jondaetmal of a Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea, on a phone, to the one Korean woman's own number — and I am going to ask alone.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: The phone number.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. The phone number is, on the JL Entertainment HR ledger of February of 2026, in the unmarked-distance file.
The Chief of Staff said: Send.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Sent.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Thank you.
The Director paused.
The Director paused for the count of three breaths.
The Director said, in the careful Joseon-court Korean of a forty-eight-year-old Director of the Security Bureau of the office of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea on a Friday morning in March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the fortieth minute:
Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: I, on the five Fridays of the Chief of Staff's inquiry and the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the fortieth minute, am, by forty-eight years of Korean bureaucratic discipline, going to ask the Chief of Staff the one question I have, in the five Fridays, not asked.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Are you all right.
The Chief of Staff sat at the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang on the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the forty-first minute.
He breathed.
He steadied the breath.
He said, in the level Joseon-court Korean of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years on a Friday morning in March of 2026:
No, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes, Director.
The Director said: Sasil-jang-nim. Thank you.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Stand the two junior officers down.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Whatever I, on the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour at the Cheong Wa Dae annex, do — the two junior officers are not, by the five Fridays, going to be the two junior officers of the Saturday afternoon.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Director.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Mr. Jang.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: In the thirteen years of our acquaintance, this is — by seven Fridays — the first time I have, on the phone of the office of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea, used your name.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Mr. Jang.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am, on the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour, going — by the leather notebook of seven Fridays — to ask the one Korean woman the one question.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Whatever she answers.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: I am, by the seven Fridays, going to be — by the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour — done.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Mr. Jang.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff said: Goodbye.
The Director said: Yes, Sasil-jang-nim.
The Chief of Staff hung up.
He sat at the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang on the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the forty-third minute.
He breathed.
He drew a breath.
He took, from the leather notebook on the low pine desk at the north window by his own left hand reaching back across the angle the bench permitted, the silver Montblanc fountain pen.
He uncapped.
He wrote, on the page he had — at the fourth hour and the twenty-seventh minute — written Of him on:
The one Korean woman is, by the five Fridays of the Director, in Bong-myeong-dong with her own grandmother in Daejeon.
He paused.
He wrote:
She is, by the Saturday morning of the twenty-eighth of March of 2026, returning to Seoul.
He paused.
He wrote:
I am, on the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour, going to call her.
He paused.
He wrote:
If she answers.
He paused.
He paused for the count of three breaths.
He wrote:
I am going to ask her, in the Joseon-court Korean of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years on a Saturday afternoon in March of 2026, the one question.
He paused.
He wrote:
The question is: Will you, on the carved wooden bell at the lower shrine of the south path of Inwangsan on the morning of the seventh of the fifth month of the first year of King Injo's reign, forgive me.
He paused.
He wrote:
I will not, by the leather notebook of seven Fridays, expect her to.
He paused.
He wrote:
I will, by the leather notebook of seven Fridays, accept the not-forgiving.
He paused.
He wrote:
The not-forgiving, by the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the forty-fifth minute, is the first thing the one Korean woman of the paje-line is — by the loom of Samshin halmoni — owed.
He capped the pen.
He set it down on the leather penholder at the right edge of the desk.
He closed the notebook.
He sat at the low pine bench at the eastern wall.
He did not, on the low pine bench, weep.
He did not, on the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang on the Friday morning of the twenty-seventh of March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the forty-fifth minute, vomit.
The Friday morning was the seventh Friday.
The seventh Friday was — by the leather notebook on the low pine desk and the phone in the top drawer and the two junior officers at the unmarked distance who had been, at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute, stood down — the last Friday.
The piece, in the four hundred and three years, was, by the seventh Friday, going to be — at the fifth hour of the Saturday afternoon at the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong — given.
The bureaucratic machinery, by the Director of the Security Bureau and the two junior officers at the unmarked distance, had, by the Friday morning at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute, stopped.
The one Korean woman of the paje-line was, by the quiet stopping at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute, free of the bureaucratic machinery.
The one Korean woman did not, by the quiet stopping at the fourth hour and the thirty-eighth minute, know.
The one Korean woman would, by the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour — on the phone call from the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong to the number in the interior pocket of the charcoal-grey wool sweater of an older creature whose own four-hundred-year discipline had ended — learn.
The Chief of Staff stood, in the unhurried way of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years on a Friday morning in March of 2026 at the fourth hour and the forty-seventh minute, from the low pine bench at the eastern wall of the Pyeongchang-dong anbang.
He walked to the low pine wardrobe at the south wall.
He took, from it, the dark grey wool suit of a Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea on a Friday morning in March of 2026.
He dressed.
He dressed in the careful way of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years.
He took, from the wardrobe, the dark grey wool overcoat.
He put on the overcoat.
He took, from the top drawer of the low pine desk at the north window, the leather notebook.
He took, from the penholder at the right edge of the desk, the silver Montblanc fountain pen.
He put both into the interior pocket of the overcoat.
He walked to the anbang door at the west wall.
He opened the door.
He walked through.
He closed the door behind him.
He walked down the Pyeongchang-dong slope to the asphalt driveway of his own house, where the black sedan of the office of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea was — at the fourth hour and the fifty-third minute of the morning of Friday in March of 2026 — waiting.
The driver bowed Fifteen degrees.
The driver said: Sasil-jang-nim. Samcheong-dong.
The Chief of Staff said: Yes.
The Chief of Staff got into the black sedan.
The black sedan drove down the Pyeongchang-dong slope and along the Hyoja-dong on-ramp and onto the Samcheong-dong access road at the fifth hour and the seventeenth minute of the morning of Friday in March of 2026.
The Chief of Staff did not, on the black sedan, take out the leather notebook.
He kept it in the interior pocket of the dark grey wool overcoat.
He sat at the back seat of the black sedan in the measured way of a forty-one-year-old husband of a TV anchor and the father of twin sons of seven years on a Friday morning in March of 2026.
He breathed.
He breathed, slow and even.
The bureaucratic machinery of the office of the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea was, by the fourth-hour-and-thirty-eighth-minute stand-down, no longer pointed at the one Korean woman of the paje-line.
The bureaucratic machinery had, by the Friday morning, become — by the quiet discipline of a forty-one-year-old Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea — the one machinery whose own discipline was, on the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour, going to be the machinery the Chief of Staff turned upon his own bureaucratic body: in the even Joseon-court Korean of a phone call, to ask the one Korean woman of the paje-line to come and ask him a single question — and to give him, in the measured Joseon-court Korean of a Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour at the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong, the not-forgiving she was, by the loom of Samshin halmoni, owed.
The machinery was, by the Saturday afternoon at the fifth hour, the instrument by which the one Korean woman of the paje-line would, by the seventh Friday's stand-down, be — at the fifth hour of the Saturday afternoon at the Cheong Wa Dae annex in Samcheong-dong — free.
The Friday morning, on the black sedan at the Samcheong-dong access road, was the Friday morning.
The piece, on the Chief of Staff of the president of the Republic of Korea at the back seat of the black sedan, was — by the seventh Friday of the leather notebook — done.