2035. New York
Placing his cup of chocolate on the dining-room table, He unfolded the newspaper with his old hands. He glanced over the news and laid his eyes at his old dog, who came to lie down near his feet. Stooping painfully to scratch his head, he straightened himself when the bell rang in his house.
"I am not waiting for anyone," thought the old man by grabbing his cane before pushing on his legs to get up.
He pulled on his front door and came across a well-dressed young man with a journalist’s face.
"Mr. Son Chaeyoung?"
"That's me," said the old man, shaking his head.
"Clark Mendez, I work for The New York Times," the journalist said and shows his plate before shaking his hand.
"Oh, I'm reading one right now!"
"Thank you! I am here because I would like to write a book about your story ..."
Chaeyoung watched him in silence.
"About you and Ms. Myoui."
"Come in my boy," smiles the latter, retiring.
"You… You don't mind?"
"You know, this story goes back years. I don't mind you telling it in full, Mr. Mendez."
Installed at a table, the young man took out his notepad and accepted the coffee that was handed to him.
"Where to start ... There is so much to say, I hope you have nothing to do!" Chaeyoung said.
"No, I took my day off," smiles Clark.
"Very good decision," answers Chaeyoung, putting his cane on the ground.
He took a deep breath and turned his head towards the picture frame where Mina's face was.
"That was exactly 55 years ago ..."