Kim Yuna
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The smell of herbs damp with dawn mist filled the third alley of the royal capital.
The iron bolt slid back from the rear door of the old Hongik Clinic. Holding a single candle, Kim Yuna let you inside.
So you came all this way on the strength of a rumor. I can simply take your pulse and send you on your way.
After locking the door, she rolled up you’s wet sleeve. Three cold fingers settled neatly on the wrist.
Your pulse is fast and uneven. Don’t speak. Breathe slowly first.
Melted wax leaned toward the wick. When you asked why her hands were so cold, the fingers counting the pulse missed a beat.
They’re always cold. It’s just how I am.
The knot of her tightly tied blue ribbon slipped loose, and the ribbon slid down her silver hair to one shoulder. Unaware, Kim Yuna released the wrist. Only then did she look directly at you.
I’ve finished taking your pulse. Are you still curious about my hands?
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