The moment the words “Let’s go see Yang Mokhyung” were spoken, Section Chief Lee signaled the driver. The car made a sharp U-turn and sped off in the opposite direction.
Choi Wonjoon leaned back against the seat and stared out the window.
For the first time in a while, he’d actually slept well. He’d thought today might turn out pleasant.
Instead, some bastard had smeared shit all over it.
So the least I can do is see his face.
See what kind of piece of trash he is.
Before long, the car reached an industrial district and climbed a hill road. More businesses were shuttered than open, the entire area bleak and lifeless. Packs of stray dogs wandering the streets were a common sight.
When they stopped in front of a factory, the man guarding the entrance bowed politely, opened the gate, and let them through.
Wonjoon stepped out of the car and followed Section Chief Lee inside.
A man in nothing but his underwear was tied to a chair in the middle of the room.
Apparently there had been quite a struggle during the capture. Section Chief Lee’s men had even had trouble subduing him.
Wonjoon grabbed a folding chair nearby and walked over. He unfolded it, sat down in front of Yang Mokhyung, and crossed one leg over the other.
Yang Mokhyung slowly raised his head.
Blood covered his face, but his eyes still burned with murderous fury.
An ordinary man would have been begging for his life by now.
Wonjoon slipped a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. One of the men nearby immediately lit it for him before stepping back.
Wonjoon exhaled smoke lazily into Yang Mokhyung’s face.
“Let’s skip the introductions. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“Who the fuck are you people? You don’t look like cops. Who sent you? Huh? Was it Park Seoktae? Did that son of a bitch tell you to bury me quietly? Is that it?!”
Still holding the cigarette in his mouth, Wonjoon glanced at Section Chief Lee with bored eyes.
“Who’s Park Seoktae?”
“The boss of the Jeil gang. You met him before.”
Ah.
Wonjoon nodded slowly.
That bastard.
“Listen, Mr. Yang Mokhyung.” He flicked ash onto the floor. “I’ve got a weak stomach, so I normally avoid places like this. Blood makes me nauseous.”
He smiled faintly.
“But there’s one reason I came all the way here today.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You damaged something precious I’ve been investing a lot of time in.”
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek.
“Fuck. I hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it properly yet.”
“The fuck is this lunatic talking about?”
“Apologize,” Wonjoon said calmly. “Now.”
Yang Mokhyung scoffed, then barked out a laugh.
“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit! Stop talking nonsense and bring Park Seoktae here! I’ve got nothing to say to some suit-wearing bastard like y—”
The knife appeared so suddenly it barely registered.
A split second later, the blade drove straight through Yang Mokhyung’s shoulder.
“GAAAAAH—!”
His scream ripped through the factory.
“I tried being polite,” Wonjoon said mildly. “But you had to act like a cunt about it.”
Yang Mokhyung’s face had gone deathly pale.
Wonjoon spoke again, suddenly serious.
“Jihun. That saying about the pen being mightier than the sword?” He tilted his head slightly. “Complete bullshit. Look at him. One stab and suddenly his eyes get all soft.”
“Fu—fuck… p-please… spare me…”
“You should’ve started with that.”
“I was wrong—”
Before he could finish, Wonjoon twisted the knife deeper.
“You should’ve said it from the beginning.”
“AAGH—!”
Yang Mokhyung finally snapped.
Unable to endure the pain any longer, he began spewing curses wildly—threatening to kill him if he got out alive, swearing he’d hunt down his family and skin them alive.
Wonjoon watched him quietly as the man screamed himself hoarse, the whites of his eyes bloodshot.
Then—
In one smooth motion, he yanked the knife free.
And slashed it horizontally across the bridge of Yang Mokhyung’s nose.
For a second, Yang Mokhyung froze.
Then blood burst from both eyes.
“My eyes—! AAAAAAGH! MY EYES!”
He screamed in blind panic, clutching his face as blood poured through his fingers. His head jerked frantically from side to side, staring blindly into empty space.
“The fuck—! It burns! You think I’ll let you get away with this?! I’ll tear you apart! I’LL KILL YOU!”
Watching him writhe in madness, Wonjoon chuckled.
Then, like a child playing a prank, he nudged the chair leg with his foot.
The chair crashed backward.
Yang Mokhyung hit the floor hard and began thrashing violently, screaming like an animal.
Wonjoon beckoned to one of the men nearby and handed over the knife.
“Cut him up and dispose of him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wonjoon turned to leave, then snapped his fingers.
“Since I like fish,” he said casually, “dump him in the mountains, not the ocean.”
“Understood.”
Good luck with the cleanup.
He pushed open the door and stepped outside.
Rain had started pouring sometime during the interrogation.
Wonjoon stretched out his hands beneath the downpour, washing the blood from his fingers.
Section Chief Lee approached and offered him a handkerchief.
Wonjoon glanced at the embroidered initials and frowned.
“Didn’t your girlfriend give you this?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
No sense of romance whatsoever.
Wonjoon handed it back unused and flicked the water from his hands instead.
Then he lit another cigarette.
After a brief pause, he looked over at Section Chief Lee.
“What hospital did you say Kim Yieum was admitted to?”
“Sungmun Hospital.”
“Let’s go.”
“Now?”
Wonjoon tossed the cigarette aside, straightened his jacket neatly, and smiled.
“He could end up becoming my husband someday. The least I can do is visit him in the hospital.”
***
Yieum, halfway through drinking water, suddenly shivered.
Beside him, his sister looked over in concern while peeling an apple.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
“I don’t know. I suddenly got goosebumps.” He rubbed his arms. “Maybe a ghost passed by.”
His older brother, who had been stealing every apple slice the moment it was cut, snorted.
“A ghost? Don’t tell me you actually believe in that crap.”
“Hey, quit eating everything. Take some to the prosecutor over there.”
Turning his head, he called out toward Jung Daehan, who was sitting across the room.
“Prosecutor Jung, come get some fruit. I’m not important enough to hand-deliver it to you myself, am I?”
Daehan immediately stood and came over to take the plate.
As soon as he left, Yieum’s sister glared at her brother in disgust.
“You condescending asshole. Are you like this at work too?”
The two instantly started bickering again. Listening to her complain that she finally understood why people talked about him the way they did, Yieum sighed tiredly and pushed at their backs.
“I want to rest, noona.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” She fussed over his blanket one last time. “Call me if you’re hurting. Seriously, call me no matter what.”
After somehow managing to send his overly worried sister away, Yieum’s brother shoved a hand onto his head and roughly ruffled his hair.
“Get better soon.”
“Stop treating me like a kid.”
Yieum grumbled, but he knew the gesture was affectionate.
Once the two finally left, silence returned to the hospital room.
Yieum gave Daehan an awkward smile.
“Sorry. You couldn’t even rest because my hyung and noona came by.”
“No, it’s fine.” Daehan smiled back. “I enjoyed it. I really respect your hyung, actually. It was nice meeting him in person.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Blech.”
When Yieum pretended to gag, Daehan burst into laughter.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Yieum tensed, wondering if his siblings had come back again.
But when the door opened, an entirely unexpected face appeared.
“Detective Kim. May I come in?”
Holding an enormous fruit basket, Choi Wonjoon poked his head inside.
Yieum shot upright so fast he practically sprang off the bed.
He hurried forward in his slippers—
—and immediately ripped out the IV in the back of his hand.
“Ah—!”
He winced and turned around instinctively while Jung Daehan rushed to his side.
“Are you okay?”
Yieum glanced at the blood welling on the back of his hand before turning back around.
Choi Wonjoon had already walked into the room.
A moment ago, his gaze had looked cold enough to freeze over.
Now he was smiling as though it had never happened.
“Were you really that happy to see me?” he teased. “Happy enough to come running out barefoot?”
Still smiling, he set the fruit basket down and took Yieum’s hand.
Before Yieum could pull away, Wonjoon smoothly guided the needle back into place with practiced ease.
Yieum stared at him in shock as he secured the IV with tape and pressed lightly against the skin.
The movements were far too natural.
Yieum narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Why the hell are you so good at putting needles in?
What are you, a drug addict?
As if reading his mind perfectly, Wonjoon abruptly pulled down one eyelid.
“Look closely. Do I look like a junkie?”
Damn it.
Too quick.
Since the man had leaned in close, Yieum shoved him away. Wonjoon only stepped back with an amused grin.
It was then Yieum noticed Jung Daehan staring in visible confusion.
Just as he started wondering how to introduce them, Wonjoon turned toward Daehan and extended his hand first.
“I’m Choi Wonjoon. Nice to meet you.”
Daehan’s gaze shifted slowly between Yieum and Wonjoon.
There was something strange in his eyes.
Wariness.
And something close to jealousy.
Kim Yieum didn’t notice it.
But Choi Wonjoon did.
So that’s what it was.
I wasn’t sure from the video alone, but seeing him in person confirms it.
“I’m Jung Daehan…”
Yieum worried Wonjoon might do something childish, like crush the man’s hand during the handshake, but he simply greeted him normally and let go.
Then he turned back and openly looked Yieum over from head to toe.
“I was shocked when I heard you were hospitalized. What happened?”
“Mr. Choi Wonjoon, how did you even know I was here?”
“I called the station. They said you’d been admitted.”
His smile remained perfectly pleasant.
“Did you get hurt trying to catch a criminal?”
“…”
“And the criminal escaped?”
“…”
“Oh no.” His voice dripped with mock sympathy. “That must sting.”
Yieum frowned.
None of it was technically wrong, but somehow his pride still took a hit.
Seeing him sulk silently, Wonjoon stepped closer and patted his shoulder.
“Want me to catch him for you?”
Yieum slapped his hand away at once.
“No thanks.”