Im Dong-ok was a classic hardliner on South Korea policy. As someone who no doubt resented the current thaw between North and South, he could have answered civilly, yet he insisted on behaving recklessly, with no regard for basic courtesy. That was why I didn’t bother softening my reply.
“Say that again! What exactly are you trying to insinuate?”
Im Dong-ok’s shout cut through the quiet background music in the banquet hall. The sudden commotion made heads turn toward our table.
“Do you have any idea? That Seoul you’re so proud of—I could reduce it to ashes in the blink of an eye if I truly wished.”
But Im Dong-ok continued his aggressive tirade, utterly unconcerned with the attention.
“Don’t think a little money gives you the right to look down on our Republic! Do you understand me?”
At that moment, someone rushed over from the head table where Kim Yong-nam and Kim Hak-kwon were seated.
“Comrade Im Dong-ok, why are you acting like this on a day like this? Keep your voice down.”
Im Dong-ok looked up at the man who had approached.
“Listen to me, comrade. This son of a bitch—didn’t he just say Pyongyang is like Seoul twenty years ago? Now tell me, shouldn’t I be angry?”
Son of a bitch? My expression turned icy, and the man, flustered, turned back to Im Dong-ok.
“Do you not know how much the General Secretary cares about this summit? Please, watch your words.”