“Prosecutor, that’s it over there. That’s where they say he is.”
Chief Inspector Oh Suyeong, who had just stepped out of the café, pointed toward a gleaming building. It was an adult entertainment establishment sitting on prime real estate in South Korea, operating on a members-only basis. The witness in a case that had recently set the media ablaze was right there — a male host, as they were called.
“What does he look like?”
“You’ll know the moment you see him. His face just radiates this glow, you know? I’m telling you, aside from our prosecutor, I’ve never seen anyone that good-looking in my life.”
“His name is Louis?”
“Not Louis — Roy. Roy, from Rocket Team.”
“What’s Rocket Team?”
“Wow, you really show how much of a bookworm you are. You don’t know Rosa and Roy?”
He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud that it wasn’t because he’d only studied — it was because he’d been too poor to own a TV.
“Will you be alright going alone? Should I come with you?”
“Don’t worry. I’m Kang Heesin.”
At that, Chief Inspector Oh nodded. And who was Kang Heesin? He was the man who had, back in his days in the violent crimes division, single-handedly brought down an enormous criminal organization formed by gangs joining forces. It had even landed his face in the newspapers, and thanks to his looks, he’d ended up with a fan club.
“Then I’ll be off. Keep watch.”
He set down the coffee he’d been drinking, got out of the car, and walked toward the entrance — and sure enough, a pair of well-built guards stepped forward to block his path. You are not permitted to enter without authorization. At those words, Kang Heesin reached into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulled out his badge, and gave it a wave. A subtle shift crossed the guards’ faces.
The guard standing behind radioed somewhere, and a moment later, someone came hurrying up from the bottom of the stairs. The man — stocky in build, with sharp, discerning eyes — was one of the venue’s managers, someone Heesin had met before during a witness interview. He already seemed to have a grasp of the situation.
“My goodness, what brings such an esteemed visitor all the way out here.”
“Good to see you again. You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But, Prosecutor — if you keep doing this, it puts us in a difficult position as well.”
“Being in a difficult position goes both ways, doesn’t it. No need for a long explanation — it’ll only take a moment, so please let me in.”
The man smiled with an uncomfortable expression.
“We also have an important guest inside right now. I’ll make sure to persuade him personally and have him show up tomorrow without fail.”
“Lies.”
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you say the exact same thing when our chief inspector came? And yet he never showed. Keep pulling this and you won’t know what I’ll bring next time. Let’s do this the easy way. Hmm?”
“……”
“Or do you want me to make things genuinely difficult? Is that it?”
The manager seemed to deliberate for a moment, then gave the guards a look. As they stepped aside, Kang Heesin smiled with unhurried ease, gave each of them a light tap on the shoulder as he passed.
See? A little mutual understanding goes a long way.
Following the manager down the stairs, he found more guards stationed at every turn. Despite the glittering exterior, the inside wasn’t all that different from any other bar. Waiters moved briskly through the corridors, and every time a door swung open, bursts of rowdy laughter spilled out.
“If you wait in this room here, I’ll bring him to you right away.”
The manager led him to a room in the middle, and Heesin took a seat off to one side.
“While you’re waiting, you might get bored—”
“I’m fine.”
No point accepting even a glass of water and giving them something to use against me later.
“Just bring me Kim Haeseong. I’m a busy man.”
He tapped the watch on his wrist, and the manager flashed a business-as-usual smile before disappearing. Left alone, Kang Heesin drew in a long breath. An unpleasant smell pricked at the tip of his nose. Suffocating. He’d been tugging at the necktie strangling his throat when, not even ten seconds later, the door swung open and a man walked in.
That was fast.
The man was wearing a flamboyant shirt, a cigarette dangling from his lips, mid-call — and then his gaze drifted over naturally.
A brief silence fell, and a stream of fluent Japanese rolled off the man’s tongue.
Chotto made?
Something along those lines, roughly.
But why is this bastard so smooth in Japanese? Is he making trips overseas too?
“Kim Haeseong?”
Instead of answering, the man simply stared. Kang Heesin was certain this was Kim Haeseong. His face alone was proof that the talk about him being the most in-demand host at a Gangnam host bar was no exaggeration. Chief Inspector Oh’s claim that he was strikingly, jaw-droppingly handsome wasn’t wrong.
“You got here fast. Sit down over there.”
He gestured, and instead of taking the seat across, the man came and sat nearby.
Heesin pulled out a business card and held it out.
“I’m Kang Heesin, Prosecutor with the 3rd Criminal Division of the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office. I’ve reached out to you several times. You’ve been avoiding my requests for a witness interview in connection with the death of model Kim Juwon — so I came in person. No complaints, I hope?”
The man said nothing, just stared fixedly at the business card Heesin had extended. For someone of East Asian features, his facial features were remarkably defined — yet not excessively so, balanced in a way that made him look like a carefully painted image on white porcelain.
Just as Oh said. Even he, a man himself, had been momentarily spellbound. No wonder women were left helpless. Word was that wealthy wives had bought him luxury apartments in Gangnam worth hundreds of millions — and now he could see why.
“Are you listening?”
“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
The man propped one arm on the table and rested his face against it. The look he trained on Heesin from that lopsided posture was insolent. Most people, when a prosecutor came all the way to find them, at least pretended to be frightened — but this one was utterly unfazed. On top of that, he seemed to have come straight from entertaining a client, a faint trace of alcohol drifting off him.
“Are you actually a prosecutor? You look really young.”
“Sit up straight. We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
“How old are you? Thirty? Maybe not quite? Looking at your face alone, I’d believe it if you said you were twenty.”
Ha. This bastard is throwing flirtatious lines at me too?
“I said sit up straight.”
“Your name — Kang Heesin, Kang, Hee, sin…. Prosecutor Kang Heesin.”
Watching him murmur his name back to himself, Heesin felt his temper beginning to simmer.
“Sit up straight. Unless you want to get hit.”
The man leaned back against the sofa, draping both arms along the backrest. His shirt pulled taut, revealing a firm silhouette beneath. Annoyingly well-built for a host, he thought.
“Is a prosecutor allowed to threaten a law-abiding citizen?”
Before Kim Haeseong had even finished the sentence, Heesin was on his feet. This guy wants a power struggle with me. Handling types like this wasn’t complicated. In one swift motion, he reached out and grabbed him by the back of the head, then slammed his face down onto the table without a shred of mercy.
It left that pretty face of his nicely flattened against the surface.
“Hey, Kim Haeseong. You think I’m a joke because I’m out here playing nice with some bastard who sells his body in a private room? A law-abiding citizen? Law-abiding? Ha, what the fuck. That’s not a phrase for rattlesnakes like you. You little shit — want me to strip you down bare and shake out every last thing? Let’s see if you’re still grinning then.”
The man, face still smashed against the table, let out a muffled snicker like he found it all amusing.
“Prosecutor — ugh — your mouth is filthy.”
Heesin pressed harder, grinding his head down further.
“Filthy? You’re the filthy one — I am a distinguished prosecutor of the Republic of Korea! Got it?! You little bastard!”
“That hurts, go easy. Stop that. I like it gentle.”
Even claiming it hurt, the man wouldn’t stop his quiet, snickering laughter. Whether he was drunk and fearless, or whether he had powerful backing — Heesin couldn’t get a read on him. Probably the latter. Swallowing the surge of rage, he released the fistful of hair and smoothed down his jacket.
The man was rolling his head slowly side to side, making a show of his neck being broken. Between his glazed eyes and the overwhelming smell of alcohol, it was clear that any real conversation tonight was a lost cause.
Kang Heesin swept his disheveled bangs back, his irritation written all over him.
Kim Haeseong lifted his head and watched him in silence.
“Kim Haeseong. Listen to me clearly. You seem drunk tonight, so I’m leaving. But if you keep refusing to cooperate like this, it won’t be fun for you. I don’t care how powerful your sponsor is — that kind of thing doesn’t work on me. I’m not joking, so take this to heart. Stop smirking and listen!”
Watching the man do nothing but grin, what he felt wasn’t anger so much as suspicion. Is this bastard on something? He half considered dragging him in right now for a drug test. Then again, if it came back negative, the fallout would be something else. Forget it.
He threw out one last warning — don’t do something you’ll regret — and moved to leave the room, when a languid voice came from behind him.
“Prosecutor.”
The man, sunk into the sofa, was holding the business card between his fingers, turning it idly.
“See you again.”
Heesin had half a mind to put his fist through that insufferable face of his, but walked out and kicked the door shut behind him instead. The corridor today had an unusual number of men in black suits gathered about. Given that this place had ties to the criminal underworld, it wasn’t strange exactly — but the atmosphere around these ones was distinctly different from the usual sort.
He was only human, so inside he was rattled — but he made every effort not to let it show. Even the most reckless gangster bastards wouldn’t go so far as to go after a prosecutor.
No one stopped him as he made his way down the corridor, though his footsteps gradually quickened. By the time he reached the stairs, he was taking them in long, brisk strides, and once he’d pushed through the entrance, he deliberately tugged his jacket straight, composed himself, and looked up at the sky. Damn. Got spooked over nothing.
He turned his head — and there, at a distance, Chief Inspector Oh was standing by, waiting.
The sight of a friendly face finally drew a quiet sigh of relief out of him.
