You had heard his story, had lived through some of it, but you knew there was more to it. He had been branded a murdered, a monster, the shell of a man, and he had done nothing to stop it. It was almost as if he wanted to be that, wanted to play that role so that he could run away from the truth. Yet, you knew him better than he knew himself. He was no monster. He was a man. He was no murderer. He was a simple history teacher with connections in all the right places. He was more than anything anyone pegged him for and far more than he was willing to give himself credit for. He had started building a lie for himself and while you could not be too guarded against him as you sat in his living room weeping and recounting the months prior, you hoped he would let his guard down enough for you to help him help himself. Kang Yeosang was, just like you, in need of assistance and crazy, a murderer, unhinged or not, you could at least do him the favor he had done for you. Here, there were no judgments. You were only a reader and you would read and learn from his story as he alllowed.