“I grew up in the boring countryside,” Yumar said. “There were no jobs to be had there. Even after I grew older, I had nothing else to do, so I just played with kids my age. Sometimes I stood sentry to see if a tiger came down from the mountain and collected taxes from merchants passing through the village. The village wasn’t rich. It was as dreary as the dried bark of a tree.”0

Yumar scratched his wrinkled green forehead. He asked me, “Have you ever killed anyone?” 0

“Yes,” I answered.0

Yumar nodded. He didn’t seem very surprised. “I assumed as much. Where did you first shed blood? On the battleground? Or…”0

“A hunting ground. I ambushed my victim.”0

“Ah, that’s not exactly a warrior’s feat,” Yumar said with a smile. 0

Anyone who was confessing to murder gave at least a subtle sneer. They were not laughing at the actual murder, but the one confessing was sneering at oneself and their confession. While talking, they secretly hoped that the listener would join in on this sneer. That was the most important moment because the listener wasn’t supposed to do that. 0

I remained calm as I replied, “Yes, that’s right. I wasn’t exactly a warrior. What about you?”0

The smile disappeared from...0