Glug glug— Soju filled the empty glass about halfway.
Heesin drank his soju without so much as touching the snacks laid out in front of him.
Across from him, Chief Inspector Oh had been drinking himself red-faced since a while ago, lost in a string of complaints about his life.
“Don’t even get me started. My kid’s hitting puberty and whining nonstop. My wife says she’s going through menopause and practically wants to tear me apart. I’m stuck in the middle — I’m dying here.”
He grumbled on about his family.
He’d thought puberty was terrifying, but apparently it had nothing on menopause — these days he walked on his tiptoes around the house just to avoid setting his wife off, and thanks to that, he bragged dramatically, his calves had gotten rock solid.
Listening to it all, Heesin found himself smiling.
To think his biggest worries were a teenager and a menopausal wife — if anything, that made him enviable.
“By the way, why did you go to Gangwon? Nothing serious, right?”
Since he hadn’t told anyone about his brother’s death, Chief Inspector Oh simply assumed there had been some business to attend to.
“It was nothing.”
Just that morning, his mother had called.
She said his brother had appeared in her dream — dressed in clean clothes, smiling.
She said it felt like he’d gone somewhere good, and that gave her some small comfort.
Then she cried again for a long time after that.
Said it was such a pity, her dead son.
Then, near the end of the call, she’d carefully brought up money.
What had become of the enormous condolence gift — who on earth would so readily hand over a sum that large.
When he told her he’d returned it to the sender, the disappointment on her end was unmistakable.
He turned a blind eye to her desperate longing, right to the very end.
“When are you going to get married?”
“Who knows. When the time comes, I suppose.”
“With her…?”
Chief Inspector Oh was referring to Yun Sena when he said her. He even glanced around nervously, as if just bringing it up felt risky.
Heesin didn’t answer that question.
He was seeing Yun Sena, yes — but marriage was still a distant, hazy thing.
Even if her mother had given her blessing, Chairman Yun still didn’t think much of him.
“That remains to be seen.”
“True enough. Nobody really knows until they’re walking into the venue.”
Clink. They touched glasses and knocked back their soju in quick succession.
The drink was unbearably sweet tonight, for some reason.
He knew he had to be careful on nights like this.
He’d made up his mind to drink moderately and head home — but just then, the canvas flap of the pojangmacha was pulled aside, and an unexpected figure appeared.
Park Taemin walked in with a hand raised in a brazen grin, dragged a chair between the two of them, and sat himself right down.
Heesin looked at him with an expression that made his displeasure plain.
“What brings you here?”
“Was passing by and spotted you. Chief Inspector, you’ve had quite a bit, haven’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Your face looks like it’s about to explode. Your eyes are glazed over.”
Chief Inspector Oh scrunched up his face and rubbed his cheeks.
Not satisfied with that, he gave himself a sharp slap that rang out loud.
Muttering that his wife would give him hell if he came home drunk, he gulped down a big glass of ice water, tidied up his things roughly, and stood.
“I’ll head out now. Park’s here, so you two have fun.”
Heesin refilled his own empty glass and grumbled.
“So you’ve decided to be a traitor.”
“Please understand. My wife scares me more than you do.”
Chief Inspector Oh moved to pay the bill, but Heesin jumped up to stop him.
I’m the one who asked you out. Take what you’d spend on the tab and get the lady something nice on your way home. Flowers would be even better.
At that, Chief Inspector Oh let out an impressed sound and gave him a thumbs-up.
“As expected. You really know women.”
Anyone listening would think I’m some kind of playboy.
He walked Chief Inspector Oh out to the front of the pojangmacha, then stepped back inside.
Park Taemin had already grabbed a glass and was pouring himself some soju.
He took a sip, made a face, and reached for a snack.
“Soju’s not really my thing. Whiskey’s what I need.”
“Then go drink whiskey. Why come here?”
“Why else. I came to cheer up my gloomy junior. Thought you’d be sobbing away, but you seem perfectly fine.”
Ha. So not here to comfort him — here to tease him.
The fact that he’d been removed from the investigation had spread all through the office.
He’d already gotten a handful of so-called words of comfort from a few prosecutors.
A case like that’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway, they’d said.
“If you want, I could squeeze some tears out for you.”
“You little — what kind of prosecutor talks about squeezing tears, huh? Trashy.”
“My apologies. For being trashy.”
Park Taemin laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
He held the screen out for Heesin to see.
The headline read: [Exclusive] ‘K Construction Slush Fund Allegations’ — the article stated that prosecutors would soon be launching an investigation into collusion between K Construction and an unnamed assemblyman, as well as violations of political funding laws.
It mentioned that a key witness had been secured, and even named the prosecutor in charge.
The reporter who’d broken the story was one of the regulars at the prosecutor’s office — someone Heesin was fairly close with.
“That was you, wasn’t it. You leaked it.”
Heesin shrugged and poured himself a drink.
“You son of a — pouring your own drink right in front of someone else. The nerve.”
“Do you really believe in that kind of superstition?”
“Wow. The audacity. Go ahead and build your Great Wall of China, why don’t you.”
After that, Park Taemin casually tried to feel Heesin out.
“You seriously didn’t know? You and Reporter Park are close.”
“It wasn’t me. Don’t go accusing people.”
“Liar.”
Park Taemin stared him down like he was interrogating a suspect.
Keep your mouth shut, just be honest with me.
He kept pressing, so instead of answering, Heesin gave him a little smile with his eyes.
Park Taemin’s face twisted.
A grown man doing aegyo with his eyes, he muttered.
“Fine. If not, then not.”
He pocketed his phone and drained his soju in one go.
Still insisting to the last that whiskey was king.
Since when did he start drinking whiskey.
Heesin had a vague idea that Park Taemin was receiving hospitality from certain parties, but he said nothing about it.
It’s not like Park Taemin is the only one doing that sort of thing.
“The article dropped, so Jo Cheolwoong’s probably in a panic right now. Isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
As if you don’t. Park Taemin clicked his tongue, then paused for a moment before finally speaking up with some difficulty.
“I heard you went through something the other day.”
When Heesin gave no response, Park Taemin let out a sigh.
“Something like that — you should’ve said something.”
“How did you find out?”
“Small world.”
He’d only told family, but in a town this small, the news must have reached him somehow.
Park Taemin knocked back the rest of his drink and, with a bitter expression, pulled an envelope from inside his coat and set it on the table.
The word condolences was printed on it in clear, dark ink.
“You little bastard. You should’ve at least told me.”
Heesin gave a small, quiet laugh.
“So you could spread it around?”
“Ha — the Great Wall. I’m sick of it, really. Stubborn little bastard.”
He stood, grabbed his coat, and went straight to the owner to settle the bill.
This time, Heesin didn’t stop him.
“Don’t drink too much. Get home.”
He waved him off halfheartedly in lieu of a proper send-off.
Take care on your way back, too.
Truth was, the alcohol had been creeping up on him for a while now — his vision was starting to blur and swim.
The two characters printed on the envelope — condolences — pulled at his gaze.
He picked it up and opened it.
Two hundred thousand won in cash.
They say the closer you are, the more you give for condolences. Between him and me — this feels about right. Honestly, even less wouldn’t sting. That’s just the kind of relationship we have.
So what the hell is 100 million won supposed to mean.
Still can’t wrap my head around it.
“Damn it. I have to return that money…”
He muttered to himself and downed the rest of his drink in one shot.
When he stood, his body swayed.
Trying to steady himself, he knocked over a blue plastic chair.
He set it back upright, stepped out of the pojangmacha, and called for a designated driver.
Then, while waiting, he dozed off.
He’d dreamt of something — he couldn’t quite remember. There’d been a man… Who was it…
He wanted to believe, like his mother had said, that it was his dead brother.
That he’d stopped by briefly — just to say goodbye before heading somewhere good.
Then a knock on the window jolted him awake.
“You called for a driver?”
He wiped a hand over his face and nodded.
He handed over the car key, then sleep crashed over him again and he was out cold.
He faintly heard the driver trying to wake him when they arrived, and he muttered half-asleep that the driver could just go.
He heard the car door open and close, and then consciousness slipped away from him again.
He didn’t know how much time passed.
He finally managed to pry his eyes open and got out of the car.
He made it home, tossed his coat aside, and checked his phone.
While he’d been asleep in the car, dozens of missed calls had piled up.
Two from Yun Sena.
And the person who’d called the most was Deputy Chief Prosecutor Jo Cheolwoong.
Then the vice chief, the deputy chief prosecutor, Jang Seonwu, and others.
As if on cue, a call came in from Jo Cheolwoong.
He didn’t pick up — and shortly after, a stream of profanity came flooding in as text messages.
He snickered and laughed, then switched his phone off and flipped it face-down on the table.
“Toad-looking bastard. Sweat it out for a while.”
Then he dropped himself flat onto the sofa.
…Damn it. I don’t even know anymore. It’ll work out somehow.
