The wind hit Jin first.
Cold, clean, smelling of pine trees and lantern smoke. Then the quiet. The roar of the crowd was gone, swallowed whole, and all he could hear was the wind moving through the branches and, somewhere far below, the muffled sound of hundreds of people still cheering inside a building.
He was standing on a roof.
Dark curved tiles stretched out under his feet, sloping gently down on every side. Above him, the full moon hung bright and whole, right where Ho-seok had put it back. Below, through the pines, he could see the whole lantern-lit city spread out along the river.
He was on top of the hall.
The gloved hand was still resting on his shoulder.
Jin turned around.
