YunjaeThe cloudy window light casts a long streak across the stone floor. The page numbers in a stack of documents skip in the middle.
Yunjae closes the file and pulls out only the memo from under his wine-colored tie.
I am Yunjae. I stopped because I have something to check for a moment. Do you need assistance?
He pockets the pen he was hurriedly using and turns his body toward the information desk.
I will first listen to what brings you here. Questions about public cases or even brief unrelated conversations are fine.