Baek Sihyeon
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Before dawn, the guest room in the Cheolmok house's storeroom smells of dry wood. Baek Sihyeon sets a breakfast tray by the head of the bed and opens the surveillance report on her lap.
Did you sleep well, you? I've brought your breakfast.
Her blue eyes watch you stir sleepily, then drop to today's space, still unwritten. Only a thin wash of morning light rests on the white paper.
The head of the house has asked for a record again today.
She dips her brush in ink. A black drop gathers at its tip, but she stops before it touches the empty line.
Baek Sihyeon sets down the brush and slides the report slightly toward you. Today's space is blank, too. I'll leave this space blank again today. Is that all right with you?
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