الصوت المشترك

Seo-jun poured the vodka until the crystal glass sweated against his palm. The room was high-ceilinged and empty, the kind of silence that only money can buy, and when he finally spoke, his voice dropped to a register that made his security detail exchange glances they thought he couldn't see. "I offered her a hospital," he said. Not to anyone. Just to the dark. "I offered her her father's name carved in marble. And she told me to wash my hands — because I was contaminating the air in her ward."