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Kim Myeong-Chan’s eyelids closed on their own.
I’m… tired.
He wasn’t sure when it all started, but this fatigue had become a persistent companion he could no longer overcome. That made sense, though, considering he hadn’t slept properly for quite a while now.
Forcing himself to sleep only rewarded him with intense nightmares. Closing his eyes filled his head with that man’s terrifying glare.
Kim Myeong-Chan forced his bloodshot eyes open before dripping a single drop of artificial tears inside. Unfortunately, his hands trembled a little too much, and he couldn’t aim properly. The liquid landed just outside his eye and trickled down his cheek instead.
Only after wasting several more drops did he finally moisten his eyes. Kim Myeong-Chan blinked several times and frowned. His eyes still felt dry and coarse.
If he looked inside the mirror now, the eyes staring back at him must be eerily crimson.
I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?
There was a time when not getting enough sleep for a month wouldn’t have fazed him at all. Back when something hot and passionate burned deep within his heart, even as the regime’s Agency for National Security Planning doggedly chased him down! That passion compelled him to keep resisting even as the tear gas filled his lungs, but now…
Where did that burning passion disappear to these days?
Kim Myeong-Chan glanced outside the window of the luxury car. “Mm? Who are those people?”
His secretary, currently riding shotgun, quickly replied. “You don’t have to mind them, sir. They are protesting about some random things.”
Protesting about...
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