Thwack — kicked squarely in the shin, Heesin grabbed his leg and hobbled in pain.
The one fuming like a bull was none other than Deputy Chief Prosecutor Jo Cheolwoong.
His face, already toad-like on a good day, had gone even redder with rage.
Poisonous toad. That fits perfectly, he thought, even in the middle of all this.
“You little — did you set out to screw me over? Why weren’t you picking up your phone! You did it on purpose just to stress me out!”
He jabbed a finger in the air and bellowed, loud enough to make Heesin’s ears ring.
Heesin kept his mouth shut — so Jo Cheolwoong hurled a file folder straight at him.
It hit him in the face, dropped to the floor, and papers flew everywhere in a mess.
“You knew about this, didn’t you? You knew and you leaked it!”
“I didn’t leak anything. You’re the one who asked me to hand it over first—”
This little punk talking back!
He actually picked up his nameplate — but couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it, and put it back down with a huff.
He pressed a hand to his waist and tipped his head back toward the ceiling several times, over and over.
Then, apparently calmed down enough, he dropped onto the sofa and pulled out an e-cigarette.
Hoo — every time he exhaled, a faint artificial fruit scent drifted through the air.
Meanwhile, Heesin methodically picked up every sheet of paper off the floor.
When he started stacking them back into the file folder, Jo Cheolwoong looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What are you doing?”
“You were going to make me clean it up anyway. I’m just doing it ahead of time.”
“Are you trying to send my blood pressure through the roof and kill me?”
“No.”
“No, my ass! Can’t you just keep your mouth shut!”
“……”
“Forget everything else — bring me the original. You have it, don’t you?”
“I don’t. That’s all I was given.”
“Then go to whoever gave it to you and get it back! You met with Finance Director Gwak Seongtae, didn’t you!”
“I did, but I can’t reach him right now.”
Jo Cheolwoong finally shot to his feet.
“How does that make any sense! You met the man just days ago — why is he suddenly unreachable!”
“I wouldn’t know…”
“I swear to God, this little—!”
The sheer volume of profanity flying out told Heesin just how furious he really was.
Even so, Heesin didn’t change his expression once and held to his position consistently.
I thought that was the original. I didn’t pick up the phone because I was too sick to function.
Having exhausted himself on threats, Jo Cheolwoong switched to coaxing.
“Heesin. Kang. Are you really going to do this? You think only we benefit from this? This is about the reputation of our entire office! Do you understand that?”
That’s rich. Your reputation, you mean.
He lies through his teeth every time he opens his mouth — but then again, so do I. Not so different.
“You really don’t have it?”
“No.”
Just as Jo Cheolwoong was about to blow up again, his phone on the table rang.
Heesin caught a glimpse of the screen — Prosecutor General.
Sure enough, his face contorted — and he scrambled up and rushed to the window to take the call.
The sight of his back hunched over like that was almost pitiable.
“Yes, yes… No, that’s not — I’m addressing it right now. I’ll take care of it. Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”
Over the course of that one-minute call, he must have said I’m sorry at least ten times.
He bowed toward the empty window — toward no one — then turned back around with a stricken look on his face.
Even then, Heesin hadn’t moved an inch from his seat.
Jo Cheolwoong sat back down, heaving deep sighs over and over until his whole body shook with it.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut, sat with it for a moment, and finally spoke.
“Just be straight with me. You really don’t have the original?”
Heesin said nothing — and Jo Cheolwoong seemed to read the room well enough.
“…If you take this on, can you see it through?”
The corner of Heesin’s mouth curved up ever so slightly as he sat there listening.
His expression must have said everything.
Jo Cheolwoong pressed two fingers to his forehead and muttered under his breath — stubborn little bastard.
Then he picked up the intercom and called someone in.
It was Prosecutor Jang Seonwu, the one who’d been handed the case.
“Nothing was reported last night, apparently?”
“Is that right?”
“What happened? Did you witness an accident or something?”
“No, nothing at all…”
Chief Inspector Oh was about to press further when an uninvited guest cut him short.
The door swung open with a knock — it was Park Taemin.
He’d brought coffee again today.
What was surprising wasn’t the gesture itself, but that it was from a proper café with decent prices, not one of the cheap franchise chains.
“Our star Kang, you were thirsty, weren’t you? Got this just for you. Extra shots, loaded.”
He got one for Chief Inspector Oh and staff officer Baek Yeongmi as well, then instead of leaving, he started circling around Heesin’s desk.
Heesin looked up from his work, glancing back and forth between the coffee and Park Taemin.
He was just about to say thank you.
“Yeah, skip the thanks. How did you manage to sweet-talk the chief?”
“The chief isn’t a potato, so how exactly would I sweet-talk him.”
Park Taemin let out an exaggerated ha-ha, mouth wide open, completely artificial.
Didn’t know you had a talent for jokes, he said.
Then he subtly shifted his posture and lowered his voice.
“If you’ve got something good, share it. People from the same hometown should look out for each other.”
“Weren’t you the one who said I didn’t belong in the prosecutor’s office?”
“There you go again, holding a grudge. Ugh. Come on, can’t you just give me a little heads-up? I need to know what’s going on to figure out how to handle things.”
In other words, he’s openly saying he’s deciding which side to land on.
Heesin gestured for him to come closer.
Park Taemin leaned in.
“More.”
This time Park Taemin lowered himself all the way, coming right up to Heesin’s face.
Heesin looked straight at him, eyes gleaming like a hyena’s, and said, slowly and clearly:
“Thank. You. For. The. Coffee.”
This guy, seriously. Park Taemin’s temper flared — then deflated first.
He was someone who could come across as slippery and occasionally scatterbrained, but underneath that, he was more ambitious than anyone.
He might well see this as a bigger opportunity than the Kim Haeseong case, which had yielded nothing.
The evidence and the witnesses are all already in place — he probably figures all he has to do is set the spoon on a table that’s already been laid.
“You’re really going to be like this?”
“Stop bothering me and go. I’ve got a mountain of work.”
Heesin gestured toward the pile of cases stacked up on his desk.
At that, Park Taemin seemed to make a decision — he picked up a portion of the assigned cases and moved them to the side.
“How’s that?”
Heesin’s expression shifted slightly.
“You’ve always been like this, then and now. Your generosity is really something—”
He pinched his fingers together to show just how small.
Park Taemin sighed.
Relentless little bastard. Got me cornered, haven’t you. He added more on top of what he’d already taken.
“Good enough? Huh?”
“Not bad.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Isn’t this so much better? The two of us working together like this. Right, Chief Inspector Oh?”
Chief Inspector Oh forced a thin smile, then turned stone-faced and dove straight back into his work.
In the face of that chilly non-reception, Park Taemin kept scrambling to secure his piece of the pie.
Heesin disliked that about him — and yet felt a strange kinship with it too.
Wasn’t he doing exactly the same thing — clawing to survive here? Like Park Taemin said, if there’s no one above you to pull you up and no backing to push you forward, you have to make it on your own.
“I’ll handle the briefing upstairs. Okay?”
He nodded, and Park Taemin walked out with the files, lips pursed but moving.
Once he was completely gone, Chief Inspector Oh quietly spoke up.
“Are you sure about this? Park Taemin’s not exactly reliable.”
“He’s unprincipled and greedy, but he’s not rotten at the core.”
That’s what he said — but he doesn’t fully trust Park Taemin.
Truth be told, he doesn’t fully trust anyone. People can change at any moment when the circumstances do. It’s not that people are bad. It’s the situation that pushes them there. And that goes for me too. That’s exactly why, last night, even after seeing what I saw, I couldn’t do anything.
Instead of dwelling on that, he turned to the next page of the document.
He was trying to focus on work, but Im Gyeong kept drifting into his mind.
The fact that no reports had been filed with the nearby police boxes or precinct last night meant that Im Gyeong had handled it all cleanly.
People could be dying in the middle of Seoul and no one would know. That was a frightening thing.
Just then, a message came in.
— Oppa. You didn’t forget our Saturday plans, right?
He was about to reply when another message arrived quickly after.
— Im Gyeong’s coming too.
His fingers stopped moving.
Why would Im Gyeong be there? Well — he’s family, so he could come. But had he ever shown up to family events before?
His feelings pulled in every direction.
He wanted to make a good impression on Chairman Yun. This was a proper meeting — he didn’t want to ruin it. But Im Gyeong was like a live bomb — no telling when or how he might go off. Even so, what choice did he have when he was the one who needed something. If he’s told to come, he goes.
He sent back a short yeah, but his mind was anything but settled.
