If I hadn't chosen to retire, if I had fought alongside An Ya, would things have turned out differently?
I don't know the answer to that question and maybe I will never know. An Ya's death, like a raging inferno, turned what was once a fairytale story into ashes.
All I can do is reminisce over those burnt pages, endlessly blaming myself.
I want revenge, but I am not without attachments. I know how strong An Ya was, and I can imagine how dangerous her killer must be. If something were to happen to me during my quest for revenge, what would become of my daughter?
But if I don't seek revenge, that poisonous fire constantly scorches my heart.
I've embraced those past dreams countless times in my sleep, and upon waking, I've fumbled hopelessly at the empty side of the bed, the anger and sorrow almost becoming an inescapable curse, locking me firmly in the past.
