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... both in rain and snow. Even when his hands burst and bled and even when his lips cracked.
Always. Always.
In her memory, her father was always wielding a sword.
Young Yu Yiseol didn’t know what was driving her father so much.
From as early as she can remember, he just continued to wield his sword. When she opened her eyes in the morning, it was the same. When the sun went down, and even when he was so exhausted that he would hold onto the hilt of his sword and sob.
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