West Seoul, Severance Hospital.
Until it was moved to the front lawn of the National Assembly building for the state funeral, Eun Seok-won’s mortuary was set up temporarily at the hospital.
Authorized mourners were a tiny handful. Kim Sigyun of the Center was one of them.
“Eighth place…”
The number in front of his name felt strange, as if it didn’t belong to him. With a complicated look, Kim tugged at his black tie.
“Chief, don’t tell me you smoked? You’ve been sucking on candy for years now, saying you quit…”
“Quiet. Where’s An Chisan?”
“He’s still over there.”
Kim walked over and stopped before the man slumped in the corner of the corridor. The Silver Lion’s left arm—who had been sobbing without stop—now wore a face completely vacant of spirit.
“An Chisan, even I’m getting tired.”
“The vice leader’s shut in, the managing director’s a husk… are we staging a protest so we can all go down together? Isn’t it about time we pulled ourselves together? That high-and-mighty ‘Silver Lion’ amounts to this…?”
“Chief!”
“What. I’ve held it in as long as I…