A prosecutor questions Kim Hyon-hui, left, on December 2, 1988, about the bombing of a South Korean airliner in which all 115 people on board died. Credit:AAP There was a manhunt for the perpetrators. Kim was captured. And then, Kim was taken for the first time to South Korea, arrested for an act of terrorism that killed 115 people and was designed to derail the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul. Thirty years later, Kim's life speaks to the disorienting contrasts on the Korean Peninsula, where the Olympics can be peaceful or deadly, unifying or dividing, and where a terrorist can become a housewife who says she's excited to watch the 2018 Games on TV. "In North Korea, I lived as Kim Il-sung's robot," Kim said in an interview, referring to the then North Korean leader. "In South Korea, I got to live a new life." Though Kim has tried to establish a mostly quiet existence, the issues that prompted her initial mission still resonate, with the Olympics, which begin Friday, again testing how the North will respond to a global celebration on the soil of its rival.

Confessed North Korean agent Kim Hyon-hui, right, enters court during her trial..Kim was sentenced to death for the 1987 bombing of a South Korean airliner, killing 115 people on board. Credit:AP Wirephoto In 1988, North Korea pushed to co-host the Summer Games, failed to strike a deal, and instead launched a campaign of violence aimed at making the event untenable. This time, the North and South agreed to march together in the Opening Ceremony, sharing a flag and fielding a joint women's ice hockey team, a show of unity that belies years of tensions. In this 1987 photo, Kim Hyon-hui, with her mouth taped, is taken out from a plane upon her arrival in Seoul, Credit:AP Kim says that her deadly role in the bombing of Korean Air Lines Flight 858 on November 29, 1987, is something that leaves her sorry and ashamed. "Can my sins be pardoned?" she said. "They probably won't be."

Kim, who has given a handful of interviews about the bombing in recent months as the Winter Olympics approached, spoke expansively about her new life in South Korea. She no longer resembles the spy who was given eight years of physical and ideological training. Former North Korean spy Kim Hyon-hui in 2009. Credit:AP She is 57. She lives on the outskirts of South Korea's third-largest city. She wears glasses and keeps her hair short. She no longer practises taekwondo. She no longer has an interest in knife combat or code-cracking. But recently, she was watching television and saw another reminder of her past: footage of her arrival in South Korea, in December 1987, when she descended the steps of a plane, under arrest, surrounded by men in suits. At that moment, she wasn't yet co-operating with investigators. At that moment, she hadn't yet admitted she was a North Korean. At that moment, she had already once tried to kill herself rather than talk, and she was wearing a device on her mouth to prevent her from biting off her tongue. The first part of her life was ending, and Kim remembers never considering there would be a second part.

"I feared interrogation," she said. "I thought it was the end. I thought I was in the last months of my life. In my head, I was singing a North Korean revolutionary song." Kim's life as a spy began during her second year of studying at the Pyongyang Foreign Language College, when she was called to the dean's office, and was met there by a man from the Central Party. What followed were several rounds of interviews, and finally, a handshake from a special agent. "You have been chosen by the Party," he said, according to an account from a book Kim wrote, published in 1991. The agent told Kim to pack her belongings, say goodbye to her family, and be ready to leave the next day.

She was, from that point on, groomed to be a warrior in North Korea's army of international spies. She studied Japanese. She was given a false passport and a fake name - Mayumi Hachiya. She was introduced to an older male spy who'd pose as her Japanese father. And then, one day, she was chauffeured to a foreign intelligence building and told about her mission - to destroy a South Korean airliner. "By destroying this plane," Kim in her book quoted an intelligence director saying, "we intend to increase this sense of chaos and ultimately prevent the Olympic Games from taking place in Seoul." The orders for her mission, she said, were handwritten by Kim Jong-il, Kim Il-sung's son and heir apparent. When Kim heard of the plan, she did not think of the lives involved. The plot, she said, was a "technical operation". Kim and the older agent were given cyanide-tipped cigarettes, to be used in the event they were captured. They were told to kill themselves rather than reveal information.

In the weeks leading up to the bombing, according to Kim's account and South Korea's investigation, Kim and the other agent travelled across Europe, posing as Japanese tourists. Then, in Belgrade, they connected with two other agents, who handed over the weapon of choice: a bomb disguised as a portable Panasonic radio, amplified by liquid explosives in a liquor bottle. Kim and her fellow agent flew to Baghdad with the weapon. In Baghdad, Kim activated the timer and boarded a Korean Air flight to Abu Dhabi. She placed the bomb in a shopping bag and stowed it above her seat. She and the other agent exited the plane in Abu Dhabi. Several hours later, the plane blew up over the Andaman Sea. Many of the passengers were South Koreans with energy jobs in the Middle East, going home to see their families. Kim, initially, didn't know if the plot had worked. She didn't know about the news alert that went off in South Korea, nor about the 300 people who rushed to the airport in Seoul, weeping and frantic. But what Kim did know was that she had to quickly return to Pyongyang, taking a convoluted series of flights, and it was in Bahrain where authorities stopped them, having noticed their suspicious travel patterns.

"Can I see your passports?" one of the authorities said, and soon Kim and the other agent realised they'd been cornered. The two spies bit down on their cigarettes. The older agent died. But Kim did not. When she awoke, her left hand was cuffed to a hospital bed, an oxygen tube in her nose. Men in combat fatigues stood around her, machineguns cocked. According to accounts from South Korean investigators, Kim endured weeks of interrogation before confessing. It was only after being extradited to South Korea that her defences began to weaken. The day before she opened up about the plot, a team of South Korean special agents gave her a suit to wear and told her to get into a car. What they did was take her sightseeing around Seoul. Kim saw a city that looked nothing like the miserable enemy outpost North Korea had described. She saw families smiling. She saw cars everywhere. She saw crowded shopping malls. She saw street vendors selling food. She saw the Olympic Village. And she started to think that her mission, her whole purpose, had been a sham. "Founded upon lies," she said.

She began co-operating with investigators, and several months later, still in detention, Kim watched the Opening Ceremony on television. "I still remember the theme song they played," she said. "Everybody seemed joyous. I was thinking to myself, 'Why did North Korea do this?' " It seemed, initially, that there would be no second part of her life. In 1989, a South Korean judge sentenced her to death. But the next year, South Korean President Roh Tae-woo pardoned her, saying that she had been a mere tool manipulated by the real perpetrators, North Korea's ruling Kim family. She mostly escaped the wrath of the South Korean public, according to news accounts from the time, helped by a tearful news conference she gave in apologising for the bombing. After the pardoning, she wrote a book, Tears of My Soul, donating the proceeds to family members of KAL Flight 858 victims. Then, Kim largely disappeared from the public spotlight.

"It's as if I've been hiding away," she said. Partly, she said, she has no choice. North Korea has a history of targeting high-level defectors and captured agents. Kim lives under police protection, and keeps most details of her life private. What she does say is that she is an "ordinary citizen" raising two teenagers, 16 and 18. In the mornings, she cooks for them. In the evenings, she reads. To relax, she heads to the mountains. Her husband, whom she married in 1997, was one of the first people she met in South Korea - one of agents handling her case. She says she remains traumatised by her role in the bombing, but sometimes feels obliged to talk about it. She is a witness, she said, to the "truth of North Korea". That's why she has mixed feelings about how the two Koreas are co-operating ahead of this year's Olympics - news she has been following closely. With its own athletes participating, North Korea could be less inclined to cause chaos or violence. But Kim also thinks that the co-operation plays into North Korea's hands, giving the country a celebratory spotlight despite how it treats its own people.

North and South Korea are marching together, holding a white and blue unity flag, but Kim said the two countries aren't on equal ground. "That flag," she said, "doesn't symbolise peace." Washington Post