Even though someone had died right in front of him, Kim Jong-il did not seem particularly affected. Perhaps he was used to such things; he merely lifted his glass, drank, and looked at me.
“Teacher Kim, the more I learn about you, the more interesting you are.”
I heard Kim Jong-il say something, but my gaze remained fixed on Im Dong-ok’s fallen body. …That suddenly? I had not said a word about my confrontation with Im Dong-ok. As I was thinking, Kim Jong-il continued speaking, apparently for my benefit.
“I heard that you had a dispute with Vice Director Im at the People’s Culture Palace.”
“…”
“Whether Im Dong-ok knew about it or not is irrelevant. What matters is that he was rude to a guest I invited. This is our Republic’s responsibility. Do you understand?”
The soldiers lifted Im Dong-ok’s sprawled corpse and carried it outside, then began wiping up the blood. Watching them work with practiced ease, as though this happened often, I fell into thought. Is this a warning? Or perhaps a gift. The question of how to punish Im Dong-ok had become pointless in an instant.
However, since I did not know what Kim Jong-il intended by this, I could not simply rejoice.
“I only learned about you recently, Teacher Kim. When I heard that Vice Premier Wen Jiabao had asked someone through his brother-in-law to look into you, I became curious.”