The afternoon before Gyeon Jioh left Seorak.
Tak, tak—.
“Janggun.”
“Aigo, that’s why Blue should’ve taken the Cannon a moment ago. I knew it.”
“Hey now, what a personality. Who can’t kibitz from the side? Your mouth just—”
Cigarette smoke hung thick in the glass greenhouse.
Before a solid wood janggi board, a few old heads huddled. One grizzled lion, annoyed, flicked a piece and tapped ash from his long pipe.
“Deputy Leader, aren’t you joining in?”
“I prefer mahjong to janggi. Change the game and I’ll consider it.”
On a sofa to the side, Beom turned a page of the newspaper and spoke.
Seoul, Guild 〈Silver Lion〉 Rosajeon.
A rest stop for old lions withdrawn from the field.
They no longer ran active ops, but—as ever—their pride held up one of Silver Lion’s pillars, the heaviest and firmest.
A one-armed lion clicked his tongue.
“Kid, isn’t that a Chinese game? Then no good. You gotta love domestic games—domestic.”
“If we’re tracing origins, janggi is Chinese too. It only changed form…