Back in his room, Yeomyeong took out the Commander’s notebook from his pocket.
Worn by time, frayed by rough hands.
He stared at it for a moment, then opened it in front of the now-melted tub of ice cream.
“The Saint once said: There are no coincidences in this world. Everything is fate.”
That was the first line. Written so carefully, it was hard to believe it came from a senile old man.
Yeomyeong slowly, silently turned the pages.
The writing inside wasn’t anything grand. It wasn’t a book of prophecy, nor was it some sacred scripture of absolute truth.
