“What brings you here without any notice?”
“I thought about it, and there’s really no better place for a discreet meeting than this.”
Im Gyeong had shown up in a red suit, sunglasses still on, and took a slow look around the office. Among prosecutors in their muted, colorless suits, his outfit must have stood out spectacularly. Heesin wanted to grab him by the collar and ask whether he had actually wanted a discreet meeting.
But given that he was Yun Sena’s half-brother, he thought he ought to maintain some level of decorum.
Not that he’d hold back if the man started something first.
“Have a seat.”
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Im Gyeong dropped onto the leather sofa. He took off his sunglasses, and his face came fully into view. Features so striking they made his clothes look plain by comparison. His slightly wavy hair — whether natural or permed, it was hard to say — suited his face perfectly, a face that turned boyish the moment he smiled.
“A guest has come all this way, at least bring some tea.”
Heesin was floored by the way he spoke — like he was directing a subordinate — but his only thought was to hear what the man had to say and get him out as quickly as possible. He went to the inner room, came back with two vitamin drinks, and set them on the desk with minimal ceremony. Im Gyeong had no interest in drinking them — he just peered quietly at the ingredient label on the side.
“No coffee?”
“Only instant.”
“That works. I was in the mood for something sweet.”
Just drink what you’re given. He suppressed a sigh, went back, and mixed a coffee in a paper cup. He briefly considered spitting in it — the way people did in dramas — then thought better of it and stirred it around with the empty packet before setting it down in front of Im Gyeong. The irritation must have carried through, because it came down with a sharp thud and the coffee sloshed wildly.
A little trickled down the outside of the cup — he pretended not to notice and returned to his seat.
Im Gyeong took a sip and smiled, looking satisfied.
“It tastes even better because you made it. You’re good at this. I heard there’s actually a job in Korea where all you do is make coffee for people. If you ever quit being a prosecutor, maybe you should look into that.”
“Stop talking nonsense and tell me why you’re here.”
“There’s no need to be on guard. You don’t even know what I came for yet.”
He was the one who brought up Kim Jungu’s name, and now he was telling him not to be on guard. Even so, there was no telling how much Im Gyeong actually knew. In the worst-case scenario, Heesin had entertained the possibility that Im Gyeong was the one who had hired the kidnappers. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, there was no reason Im Gyeong would do that.
He said nothing and watched Im Gyeong sip at his coffee. The man stuck out his tongue and scrunched up his face — too hot. There wasn’t a shred of gravity in any of his movements. It had been the same the first night they met at the host bar. Actions and words that seemed endlessly weightless. Smiling, yet with something oddly defiant in his eyes. And beneath all of it — an undeniable air of pressure.
“I’m sorry about the other day at the family home. I went too far, didn’t I?”
The unexpected apology took some of the edge off his anger.
“Is that why you wanted to meet? To apologize?”
“That too. I also have something to give you.”
“Something to give me?”
Im Gyeong reached inside his coat. His hand rummaged in the inner pocket and came back out with something in tow. Whatever was inside the palm-sized plastic sleeve — it was obviously a photograph. He tossed it, sleeve and all, onto the desk. Open it. Heesin stared at it, and Im Gyeong’s eyes nudged him impatiently.
He took out the photograph. His fingertip gave an involuntary flinch. The background was the inside of a car — and his girlfriend, Yun Sena, was wrapped in the arms of another man. As he flipped through the photos, the content grew increasingly explicit, but Heesin did not react.
Across from him, Im Gyeong sat with his legs crossed, watching with interest.
“What’s your reason for coming to me with fabricated photos?”
“You really have to give it to him for keeping a straight face. Bold of you, given that face.”
“Or. Are you saying all of this is real?”
“And if it is?”
Heesin said nothing. Im Gyeong drained the very last drop from the cup, then looked down into the empty bottom with a slightly mournful expression — as if lamenting the lack of coffee.
“More coffee?”
Im Gyeong’s lips curved up watching Heesin ask with perfect composure.
“Next time. Today I just came to get a read on you.”
The blunt admission that he had come to size him up rubbed Heesin the wrong way. Im Gyeong rose from his seat, and Heesin followed to see him out — his feet moving toward the entrance on their own, eager to have the man gone.
“Oh, I almost forgot.”
Im Gyeong suddenly turned around at the door and Heesin nearly walked straight into him. A waft of cologne hit him. He stepped back sharply, and Im Gyeong produced yet another photograph from inside his jacket.
“What is it this time.”
The irritation on Heesin’s face froze solid. The photograph showed him. Standing over a bleeding Kim Jungu, looking down at him. He tried to appear unfazed, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d have liked.
“Interesting reaction.”
Im Gyeong reached out and gave Heesin’s cheek a light, amused tap. Heesin glared back fiercely, and Im Gyeong snickered, then put on his sunglasses right in front of his face and smiled.
Don’t ignore my calls. Otherwise you’ll be seeing this photo on the news first.
He delivered the threat without so much as a flicker of hesitation, opened the door, and was gone. Heesin stared at the closed door, and let out a long, held breath. He looked at the photograph again and his face crumpled. His legs suddenly gave out beneath him. He barely made it into his chair, and crushed the photo in his fist.
How did he… how did he get this….
Did he follow me? To get leverage over me? Why? Is it revenge for what happened that day? He was said to be indifferent to family matters to a fault — so why him, specifically? Why does Im Gyeong have this?
The thoughts chased one another in circles, but not a single one arrived at a clear conclusion. He was making his way back to his desk when the door opened a moment later and Chief Inspector Oh and staff officer Baek Yeongmi came back in.
“Who was that just now? God, he is dangerously good-looking.”
“Is he a celebrity?”
“I don’t think so. I know pretty much every celebrity there is — there’s no way I’d have missed a face like that.”
Baek Yeongmi, well known around the office as a devoted celebrity fanatic, said it with total conviction. And yet she added, tilting her head, that he looked familiar — like she’d seen him somewhere. Then, mid-way through sitting back down, she suddenly clapped her hands together with a loud crack. A moment later, she was typing something into her phone — and then she cried out that she’d found it.
Chief Inspector Oh took the phone and brought it over to Heesin to show him.
“Prosecutor. Is this him?”
“……”
“It is, isn’t it? Identical.”
Heesin stared at the screen in tight-lipped silence. The man on the screen — shirtless, looking straight into the camera, smiling — was unmistakably Im Gyeong. He scrolled down and a caption appeared beneath the photo. The muse of a luxury brand — Kamiya Ren?
He was still staring at it when Baek Yeongmi began to explain.
“He was huge about ten years ago. A single photo taken at a festival launched him, and once he debuted, luxury brands were practically fighting over him. Then he disappeared without a trace after just one year.”
“Retirement?”
“Some said retirement, some said he’d gotten on the wrong side of the Japanese Yakuza and vanished without a word. And now here he is. Wow — he’s insane in person. I can’t.”
“How on earth do you know all this?”
“I went through a model phase too.”
Chief Inspector Oh, mid-conversation with Baek Yeongmi, tilted his head.
“Someone like that — why would he come to see you, Prosecutor?”
Instead of answering, Heesin handed back the phone and brushed it off as nothing. Hardly anyone knew Im Gyeong was Yun Sena’s half-brother. He himself had only ever heard of him secondhand — seeing him in person had been a first. He’d assumed the man kept his existence carefully hidden from the world, but apparently not.
Kang Heesin immediately searched Kamiya Ren on social media. Despite the years, a fair number of videos came up. In the interview footage, he looked noticeably younger than he did now — speaking in English, much more boyish. Ten years ago would put him at around twenty. In the time since, his frame had grown broader and more masculine, and the lines of his face had sharpened.
— Ten years from now? I’d probably be in the middle of a passionate love affair. I don’t know who with — but I’d want to tell them to run.
Watching Im Gyeong laugh with that impish expression during the interview made something turn in his stomach.
He closed the video immediately and got back to work.
Ramen bubbled away on the stove, and the spicy smell tugged at his senses. Heesin turned off the heat and gave the cluttered dining table a halfhearted tidy. A message from Yun Sena arrived just in time.
— What are you doing?
He carried the ramen over and set it down, then typed back. Eating.
— Minjeong’s birthday party is tonight so I’ll probably be home late. Might even sleep over at the hotel with the girls.
A cute little heart followed. He looked at the message in silence, and the photographs he’d seen earlier that day floated back up in his mind. He composed himself, typed back have fun, and flipped his phone face-down. Then he picked up his chopsticks, lifted some noodles, and blew on them. Just as he was about to take a bite, another message arrived. Probably Sena again, he thought.
His expression crumpled beyond all recovery when he saw who it was from.
— What are you up to tomorrow?
Damn it. Im Gyeong.
