“Don’t worry. I’m not particularly interested in what happened here. You’ll just pay a fine and get back to business. Whether you took kickbacks to provide Omegas or entertained them yourself, that’s not my concern.”
He rose from his seat. Checking his wristwatch, he smoothed his rumpled clothes. He seemed to have another appointment.
“Well, I’ve confirmed your identity, so it was worth the trip. Very well. Let’s meet again. You know what I’m looking for, right?”
“You mean the Stage-Two Expression Agent?”
“That’s right. Do you know anything?”
“No.”
At the firm answer, Jang Jin-woo clicked his tongue softly. He didn’t like that Marvin showed no cracks.
“If it’s true, I can’t help it. But if you’re just refusing because you don’t like me, don’t do that. After all, we both serve our country and draw a paycheck, don’t we?”
“……”
“I just want us to know who’s who.”
He sighed and walked toward the door. As if passing by, he stopped abruptly in front of Marvin again.
“‘Catch the rabbit, boil the hounds.’”
At the sudden proverb, Marvin turned to look at him.
“There’s an old saying: once you’ve caught all the rabbits, you boil the hounds. But nowadays, they don’t do that. In a world where even dogs can’t be killed on a whim, they just abandon them somewhere.”
Again, his iris color shifted strangely. Marvin’s mind churned. Jang Jin-woo lowered his voice further, whispering.
“But the sad thing is, only the hound doesn’t know it’s been abandoned.”
Leaving Marvin rigid behind him, Jang Jin-woo strode toward the exit. Though he’d heard an insult, Marvin couldn’t stop him. He moved on, and Marvin remained frozen, the harsh words echoing in his head.
You’re the only one who doesn’t know you’ve been abandoned.
His stomach lurched. Even knowing it wasn’t true, the words sank deep into his chest.
What… utter nonsense.
Yet a memory flickered in his mind. That call from Deputy Director Choi Hyeong-il had bothered him. Not only had the contact been sloppy, but the contents were hollow. Even the painting request felt dismissed.
Jang Jin-woo had completely unearthed that memory. Something rotten, long buried, peeked out of the pit.
“By the way, they caught the boyfriend of the deceased Park Juseong. Did you hear?”
Jang Jin-woo, hand on the doorknob, turned back once more. Marvin lifted his head. His face, twisted with complicated emotions, gave him no cover, but Jang Jin-woo spoke on.
“I haven’t filed an arrest warrant yet. I’m going to the precinct tomorrow to ask a few questions—care to join?”
At the sudden invitation, Marvin’s eyes widened slightly.
“And one more thing. The expression agent that Park Juseong received—they say it was Stage Two.”
Having dropped two bombs in a row, Jang Jin-woo gave a light laugh as if leaving the judgment to him, then exited. He heard him walk down the corridor, calling someone.
“It’s me; are you free right now? No, I’ll come. It’s urgent.”
Even over the elevator noise, his voice faded away, but Marvin didn’t move.
The flicker in his eyes—signs of an incoming rut—and the clue about Park Juseong’s expression agent lingered as afterimages.
He thought Jang Jin-woo had come riled up by the Chief of Staff’s scolding, but perhaps his true purpose was the case he’d been assigned. And a rut really was on its way—if he’d agreed, would he really have intended to entertain him?
His expectations of him kept missing the mark. Here was a man cloaked in arrogance every meeting, yet disturbingly sincere in every detail.
Marvin’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
「What happened? Why did he just let me do it?」
An urgent message from Yang Jin-man lit the screen.
“That’s what I thought.”
Marvin murmured to himself, lit a cigarette, and stared after the door Jang Jin-woo had exited.
October winds swept through the streets. As if a typhoon had arrived out of season, swirling vortices of leaves and trash appeared everywhere. People staggered against the gales, unable to look straight ahead, while banners flapped overhead.
“Looking for hit-and-run witness. Around 1 a.m., August 24. In front of Se-gwang Road intersection. Silver mid-sized car. – Oseong Police Station –”
One knot had come undone in the fierce wind. The wooden rod at the banner’s edge struck the wall, making a threatening clatter. Just as one wondered if it might hit a passerby’s head, someone sprinted out of the police station’s front gate.
It was the constable on sentry duty. Wrapped in a padded jumper, he leapt over to grab the banner’s loose cord and tied it to the wall. Defiantly, the banner billowed.
“He’s crazy, I swear.”
The constable muttered in song as he tightened the cord. Needing more hands, he glanced toward the checkpoint—but his senior officer had not emerged.
Preparing to battle the wind again, he felt someone else hold the banner. Grateful, he finished securing the knot, brushed dirt from his clothes, and came down.
“Oh, thank you.”
The man acknowledged his nod with a look, said nothing. The constable sniffled, tucked his cold hands under his arms, and, as if dancing like Genghis Khan, dashed back to the checkpoint. Then, he turned again without reason—he just thought the man had struck him as remarkable. A man in his late twenties wearing jeans and a thick field jacket stood about thirty meters from the front gate, watching calmly.
Tall and well-built, he might have looked like a detective at first, but that didn’t fit. If he’d been a station employee, he wouldn’t have stood there in such wretched weather. It looked as if he were waiting for someone.
Anyway.
I’m going in.
“Brr… it’s freezing.”
The constable sprinted into the one-pyeong checkpoint.
“Close the door. Why’s it so windy? What should we order for lunch?”
His senior, holding a phone, asked.
“I’ll have spicy pork. Ahem.”
In that short time, he’d even gotten a runny nose. He pressed a tissue to his nose and pressed his face against the glass. Though they had to keep it open, the weather was too foul to dare.
Across the street, a middle-aged woman chased her scarf, blown away by the wind. Worried she might be hurt, he watched.
Students on the opposite curb caught it just before the light changed, tumbling in their rush. A silver mid-sized car, waiting for a left signal at that very intersection, caught his eye.
An exotic car rare in these parts. He sensed it. Sure enough, it slid toward the station gate.
“How may I help you?”
The constable opened the window and leaned out. The driver, behind dark tinted glass, lowered it and extended his arm. He held an ID. As expected.
“Oh, yes. Prosecutor. Thank you for your hard work.”
The constable raised the barrier at once. The driver nodded in greeting, then glanced back.
“I’ll park and meet you on the first floor.”
He looked as though he addressed someone, and the man in the field jacket had moved behind the car.
Ah, so he’s from the prosecutor’s office.
At that moment another gust blew, carrying a distant shout of “Mom!” Meanwhile the car vanished into the lot, and the field-jacketed man reached the checkpoint. His bangs, whipped by the wind, nearly covered his eyes, but his straight nose remained prominent.
“I have business at the Criminal Investigation Division.”
He meant to ask if he should show his ID too.
Whoa….
The constable marvelled inwardly. Now he understood why the man had caught his eye earlier. His attire and air didn’t match—out-of-season clothes that looked like discount leftovers, no car, as if he’d come by bus, yet with the presence of a famous actor known for street-dwelling stunts.
“Yes, you may come in.”
It seemed the prosecutor had told him to let him pass. No need to bother checking further; he was curious but an ID wouldn’t list his job. After he waved the man through, the constable leaned out the window again to check outside. No other visitors.
Just as he closed the window and prepared to stand, a thunderous message came from behind.
“Hey, I can’t get pork today.”
His senior, scratching his head, waved his phone.
“What?”
Because of the savage weather, delivery was impossible. The constable’s jaw dropped. In his mind, all impressions of the earlier visitor vanished cleanly.