Chapter Text
2020/11/05
The sun bade farewell and exited below the horizon as if to make room for the next visitor at the Lee family home in her stead. Han Juwon pulled up to the shabby old house in his new car. Gravel crunched under the tires until he rolled to a stop and parked alongside the brick wall. The uncanny silence of Manyang-eup welcomed him when he turned off the engine, but he didn’t get out right away to greet it. He needed a moment to collect himself first. The day had been full of revelations that only yielded more questions, and tonight would be the night that Juwon got all the answers.
He stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Wrapping himself up in his trench coat, Juwon warded off the bite of the November air. He approached the gate and peered through the rusty bars at Lee Dongsik, who was standing in the yard in front of a large metal trashcan. Orange sparks rose from its depths like dying stars falling in reverse. The fire cast a warm glow across Dongsik’s face from below as he stared down at the flames.
“I didn’t know you liked playing with fire at night,” Juwon called out to him.
Dongsik turned his head but didn’t respond. Juwon pushed through the gate and followed the well-trodden path toward the house, stopping in front of the brick flower bed that was choked with dead weeds. The dirty angel statue gazed up at him imploringly with her hands pressed together. The family of four ducks, one of which was missing a face, carried leaf litter on their backs.
“It’s not the first time you’ve seen those,” said Dongsik. “So why are you looking at it like that?”
“Why didn’t you get rid of them?” Juwon wondered.
“Why should I?”
“It would remind you of it.”
A wry smile lifted the corner of Dongsik’s mouth.
“You mean like a murderer’s trophy? Are you asking me if I keep reliving the moment I killed her and cut off her fingers by staring at the place I put them for the past twenty years? Is that it?”
Juwon looked off into the distance and sighed.
“When I first walked in here, that’s what I thought,” he admitted.
Then, he descended the path the same way he’d come and joined Dongsik by the fire.
“And briefly, I questioned if I could be wrong…now I’m not sure. But there is one thing that I’m sure about. Why did you put Kang Minjeong-ssi’s fingers there?”
This time, Dongsik sighed.
“This version is quite original,” he dodged the question.
“Nam Sangbae Sojang only has a year left until he retires…so why did he delete the footage of a CCTV camera facing the entrance of Manyang Supermarket on the day of the incident? No one knew that the camera was in operation. Well, maybe a certain someone who went all around town to find an old man with dementia might have known about it, but everyone else would’ve thought there was no camera at the scene. The moment Nam Sangbae Sojang realized that there was a camera, he must’ve been so shocked. Why? Because someone was caught going in and out of that house.”
Dongsik met Juwon’s gaze, and Juwon took a step closer. He could tell that he struck a nerve with that one.
“It was absolutely necessary for Nam Sangbae Sojang to walk into the station at dawn and delete the CCTV footage. Who could be in that footage? Nam Sangbae himself? Or someone he deeply cares for? Just what did that person do in that house?!”
Juwon tried to remain calm, but the volume of his voice gradually increased with each question until he was shouting. His breath was labored from the frustration that gripped his chest. He needed to hear it straight from Dongsik. He had to know, or else he would never be able to move on. But Dongsik merely looked away without saying a word. He left Juwon no choice.
“I’m going to arrest Nam Sangbae Sojang.”
“Why Sojang-nim? That’s not enough to arrest him.”
“It depends on how creative I get.” Juwon pointed up and continued, “The higher-ups need a culprit right now. Lee Dongsik Gyeongsa-nim, what will you do?”
Dongsik tilted his head back. Either the reflection of the stars or unshed tears made his eyes sparkle; Juwon couldn’t quite tell from this angle. After another weary sigh, Dongsik pressed his lips together and hung his head. This was the closest Juwon had ever come. If he pushed just a little bit more, he was sure he could get Dongsik to break. It was time.
Taking his handcuffs out of his coat pocket, Juwon closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed Dongsik’s left wrist. But then the sound of a phone vibrating cut through the crackling of the fire. Dongsik used his free hand to grab it.
“Wait,” he said.
The screen displayed the name Yu Jaei.
“Let me take this.”
Juwon released Dongsik’s wrist with an irritated huff and let him answer the call.
“Yeah, Jaei-ya…what did you say? Downstream Munjucheon? What are you talking about right now?”
Dongsik went silent for a couple of minutes as Jaei spoke. From where he stood, Juwon couldn’t make out what she was saying. Instead, he monitored Dongsik’s reaction, which quickly became alarming. Dongsik’s eyes widened, and he slowly lowered the phone from his ear as if in shock. Then, he turned and tried to head for the gate, but Juwon stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“What is this about?” he asked.
“Move,” Dongsik said.
His angry glare belied his calm voice, but Juwon stayed put because he needed an explanation before anything else. Dongsik’s patience fizzled out and then exploded.
“Move, you bastard!” he yelled.
The outburst had Juwon blinking in surprise, but Dongsik didn’t give him any time to process any of that before he was shoving him out of the way. Juwon stumbled to the side, caught his balance, and pivoted toward the other man.
“Dongsik-ssi!” he called, lunging forward to seize Dongsik’s wrist again.
With one deft hand, Juwon slapped a cuff on Dongsik’s wrist and then secured the other on his own so that Dongsik couldn’t escape. This was a good plan until Dongsik reared back and landed a right hook on the edge of Juwon’s left cheekbone. Pain bloomed from the center of the impact after a second of delay, but the fact that it even happened was more disorienting than the pain itself. Juwon cupped his face with his hand and gave Dongsik a murderous look.
“Uncuff me,” Dongsik demanded.
“When will you stop storming out without a plan?” Juwon challenged him but flinched as Dongsik’s fist surged forward again to grasp his coat collar.
“Uncuff me.”
Juwon grabbed Dongsik’s jacket sleeve and yelled, “Tell me what’s going on, Lee Dongsik!”
“That fucker is gonna…Jaei…”
Dongsik could barely manage to get the words out, and with their faces this close now, Juwon realized it was tears in his eyes, not the stars.
“Is someone trying to harm Yu Jaei-ssi? Why?”
“‘Why?’” Dongsik repeated absently, lost in thought.
Suddenly, he let go and took out his phone. Juwon shook him.
“Lee Dongsik-ssi. Is Yu Jaei-ssi in danger? Is someone going to die again?”
Ignoring Juwon in favor of making a call, Dongsik spoke urgently into the phone, “Jeongje-ya. Go fifty meters downstream of Munjucheon. You’ll find Jaei there. Go now. Go and stay with her.”
Juwon fumbled with the key as he hastened to uncuff them both, and then he went out the gate to make his own call.
“Han Gyeong-wi!” Dongsik called after him.
“This is Han Juwon Gyeong-wi of Manyang Police Substation,” Juwon told the operator. “We’ve got a Code Zero situation. Send backup fifty meters downstream Munjucheon.”
As soon as the operator acknowledged his request, Juwon disconnected. He opened the door of his car, but Dongsik caught up to him and slammed it shut.
“Han Gyeong-wi, we’re not going there.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Do you want to see Yu Jaei-ssi die?”
He attempted to reopen the door, but Dongsik slammed it shut again. Clenching his jaw, Juwon whirled toward Dongsik.
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to catch the bastard.”
Juwon’s stomach dropped. He’d been obsessed with this case for ten months and had upturned his entire life for it. After all the steps he’d taken to get to this point, Dongsik was finally going to stop covering for the person responsible and reveal their identity, just like that? Who could it be?
Park Jeongje?
Nam Sangbae?
Someone else?
“Lee Yuyeon,” Dongsik began. “Bang Juseon, Han Jeong-im, Jin Hwarim, Wi Sunhui, Yeo Chunok…and Kang Minjeong were all murdered by Kang Jinmuk, and we’re going to arrest him now.”
Wait.
Kang Jinmuk?
Kang Jinmuk, the owner of Manyang Supermarket? Kang Jinmuk, the orphan that Dongsik’s parents took in as their own son? Kang Jinmuk, the father of the most recent victim?
No, that didn’t make any sense.
“No one’s going to die starting today,” Dongsik declared.
He didn’t wait for a response and began to walk away. Juwon froze for a couple seconds, and then he ran after Dongsik and yanked on his arm.
“What do you mean?” Juwon asked desperately.
“My Yuyeon-ie, and all the missing people that fucker killed…I’m going to find their bodies and dig them all out. You’ll be the one arresting him.”
Dongsik continued walking.
“Arrest…why don’t you arrest him yourself?” Juwon asked, blocking Dongsik again. “You put on this whole show, knowing everything. You—you’re the one who put Kang Minjeong’s fingers there, aren’t you?”
They stared at one another for several moments that were rife with tension.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you until now, Han Gyeong-wi. I apologize,” said Dongsik.
Sorry? That was it? An apology would never be enough for what Dongsik did, how he tampered with the scene and strung everyone along for all this time. Juwon fisted his hands in Dongsik’s shirt and shook him.
“Don’t just say you’re sorry. You’re a criminal, too. You should be punished!” Juwon spat.
“When I find them,” Dongsik murmured. “After I find my Yuyeon-ie, you can cuff me yourself. I promise you. When the time comes, I will turn myself in to you.”
Juwon’s eyes burned, but he couldn’t even blame the smoke from the fire anymore. His throat felt too tight to speak, so he dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Now let’s go get him, Han Gyeong-wi.”
The stakeout didn’t take long. About twenty minutes after arriving at the house, the shrill creak of door hinges alerted them to the monster’s presence. Juwon lay in wait behind a dilapidated shed in the courtyard while Dongsik was perched on the platform that led to the attic above the grocery store. The following noises were difficult to parse—footsteps, crockery clanking, dull thuds, some shuffling.
Then a voice.
A soft, crooning voice that turned Juwon’s stomach.
“Minjeong-ah. I’ll let you leave this house, just like you wanted.”
That was his cue.
Juwon sauntered around the corner and took in the scene laid out before him. Jinmuk was squatting in the dirt wearing a pair of pink rubber gloves that went up to the elbow. Half of the stone tiles were missing from their typical place on the ground in a haphazard heap off to his side. And buried next to the kimchi onggi, wrapped in a plastic sheet in a large bucket, lay Kang Minjeong. Jinmuk raised his head to look up at Juwon, but his face gave nothing away, like Juwon had merely stumbled upon him fetching some more kimchi for the refrigerator.
“Kang Jinmuk, you are under arrest for abducting, confining, and causing bodily harm to Kang Minjeong.”
Retrieving his handcuffs from his pocket, Juwon stepped forward.
“You have the right to remain silent, consult an attorney, have a chance to stand trial, and file a review of the legality of your arrest. And now.”
Juwon squatted in front of Jinmuk, on the other side of Minjeong’s body. He held up the handcuffs to eye level.
“Your hands.”
The reality of the situation struck Jinmuk all at once. His eyes widened as he glanced from the handcuffs down to his daughter’s corpse. Then, they flicked up over the rim of his glasses at Juwon.
“Did you come alone?” he asked.
Juwon scoffed in disbelief and lowered the cuffs.
“Of course not,” he said, looking over his shoulder up at the platform.
Jinmuk followed the line of his gaze. Dongsik emerged from the shadows and approached the safety railing. He stood casually with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, but his face was frigid. The warmth with which the fire had imbued his features now faded to ice. Goosebumps rose down the length of Juwon’s limbs, and he wasn’t even the intended recipient of that cold expression. Across from him, Jinmuk looked down at the ground and muttered a single word.
“Fuck.”
Juwon returned his gaze to Jinmuk.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “Your life is completely fucked.”
The next several events passed by in a blur. Violent Crimes, KCSI, and everyone from the substation arrived on the scene. Hwang Gwang-yeong, Jo Gilgu, Oh Jihun, and other officers from Munju-si cordoned off the front of Manyang Supermarket with tape and struggled to control the reporters and townspeople. Oh Jihwa’s partner Kang Dosu covered Jinmuk with his jacket, and then they escorted him out to the Violent Crimes van. Upon seeing the culprit, the crowd surged and screamed. Combined with the flashing lights of the patrol cars polluting the night sky, it was almost like the people of Manyang were gathered for a long-awaited concert.
Twenty years was a long time, indeed.
Juwon was glad to be in the courtyard where it was quieter but no less intense. Ha Hongcheol and Im Seonnyeo from KCSI were standing with Nam Sangbae in the narrow passage between the shed and the house. Now that Jinmuk was gone, Dongsik slowly approached the edge of the half-buried bucket and crouched down next to Minjeong. Juwon noticed the way the fabric of Dongsik’s jacket pulled tight over his shoulder blades as he hugged his own knees. He hadn’t spoken a word since Juwon arrested Jinmuk. Even now, he made no sound as he subtly rocked back and forth.
Beneath him, the ground soaked up a salty, cloudless rain.
“He could get in trouble later for tampering with the scene,” Hongcheol told Sangbae.
“I’m sorry, Hongcheol,” Sangbae responded. “Please let it go.”
Hongcheol sighed exasperatedly but backed away. A moment later, Dosu returned and tried to get past everyone.
“Dosu-ya. Hey,” Sangbae called, patting him on the shoulder.
When Dosu descended the three steps, Juwon turned his body around to physically block the path and glared at him for interrupting. Dosu received the message and went back to Sangbae’s side. Juwon faced Dongsik’s small, trembling form again and reflected on the unexpected outcome of the evening. He felt a sense of closure, but it was incomplete. They still had to find all the others so that Jinmuk would receive punishment to the fullest extent, especially Lee Yuyeon, because Dongsik also needed to pay for his crimes.
And yet, as Juwon witnessed Dongsik breaking down over Minjeong’s body, that was the last thing on his mind.
“No one’s going to die starting today,” Juwon whispered to himself.
That was the most important part. Everything else would follow in due time. Juwon stared at Dongsik’s back for another minute, wondering if he was supposed to say or do something. This was a new situation for which he had no blueprint, and he doubted there even was a socially acceptable response for something like this. He glanced up at Sangbae and Dosu for some indication of what to do, but they were only looking on quietly, too. Anxiety began to crawl up his spine and then gripped him by the scruff of the neck.
He had to leave.
Juwon ascended the steps, silently walked by the others in the claustrophobic passage, and made his way out front. The substation officers noticed him first and guided him toward the pack of rabid reporters that was foaming at the mouth for a story. Several other officers holding light batons helped form a protective circle around Juwon, but they couldn’t stop the barrage of questions.
“There he is!”
“It’s him!”
“You suspected it was a serial murder! How did you know?”
“How did you arrest him?”
“What’s the condition of the body?”
“Where’s the body?”
“How did you know the body was here?”
“I can’t tell you right now,” said Juwon.
“Hyeongsa-nim!” cried a middle-aged woman who’d broken through the barrier. She clasped Juwon’s upper arm with both hands and looked up at him, not unlike the angel statue had earlier. Her eyes were much more alive, though.
“You remember me, right?” she asked. “You found my father once. I’m Bang Juseon’s eonni. Did the man kill my Juseon-ie, too?”
“I can’t tell you right now,” Juwon repeated.
“Take a look at this.” She pulled an old photo out of her pocket; it was of a smiling young woman holding up a peace sign. “This was taken on the day Juseon-ie died. Are my Juseon-ie’s fingers in there, too? We never found them.”
Juwon looked at the photo and then at the woman’s face.
“I…can’t tell you right now.”
“Why not?!” she screeched. “Do you know what it’s been like for my father for the past twenty years? Why can’t you tell me?”
Gilgu put himself between Juwon and Juseon’s sister.
“Step aside, ma’am,” he said.
“Why? Why?!” she cried, trailing off into screaming sobs.
“Gyeong-wi-nim, are you okay?” Gwang-yeong asked.
Juwon could only blink. He moved his mouth, but no sound came out. The clicks and flashes of the reporters’ cameras were like needles in his brain.
“Give us a comment!” one of them demanded.
“You should go,” Jihun urged.
“A comment, please!”
“When did you start suspecting him?”
“Is it a serial murder?”
“Tell us!”
“Did you find the weapon?”
With the help of the other substation officers, Juwon waded through the crowd and made it to the street. About twenty paces away, he paused for one last look at the chaos unfolding at Manyang Supermarket, and then continued to walk back to Dongsik’s house. His breath was much too rapid for the speed of his gait, and by the time he got to his car, he was gasping. Juwon pounded his fist against his chest like he could beat his heart into submission.
Ironically, this wasn’t the first panic attack he’d had outside of Dongsik’s house. The difference between the two situations was almost comical. Last time, he’d pulled a gun on Dongsik, fully convinced he was the killer. This time, he wished Dongsik was there to…well, he wasn’t entirely sure. Juwon bent over the front of his car and planted his hands on the hood. Counting backward from one hundred, he gradually worked his pulse and respiration down to their basal rates.
Then, he straightened up and got in the car. The engine roared to life at the same time his phone vibrated. Juwon opened his Messages app and tapped on the short conversation thread he had with Jihwa.
Her text read, “Kang Jinmuk is in holding. The case is under our jurisdiction for now. You can go home, but come to the station sometime before noon tomorrow to give your statement.”
Juwon wondered when Dongsik was going to give his statement, or if they were supposed to do it together.
As if she had read his mind, Jihwa sent another text, “Dongsik refuses to go home, so he’s on his way in now. Your stories better match up.”
Juwon tossed the phone on the passenger seat without responding. He had nothing to say. At least she would see that he received and read the messages. Stepping on the brake, he put the car in drive and then started to roll away. He left the Lee family home behind, but he brought Dongsik home with him in his tormented thoughts.
2020/11/06
Shortly after giving his statement to Jihwa and Dosu the next day, Juwon stomped down a flight of stairs with a slight crease in his well-shaped brow. He’d tried to ignore Gwon Hyeok’s call, but his phone vibrated yet again in the pocket of his trench coat. He stopped on the landing to open his messages and see what Hyeok, or rather his father, wanted with him.
The text read, “We know Kang Minjeong’s cause of death now. Cardiopulmonary arrest due to multiple organ failure.”
Juwon frowned. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Wasn’t the COD supposed to be strangulation, like all the other victims? He would have to look up on Naver what the autopsy results meant later. Juwon tapped on the voicemail and lifted the phone to his ear as he continued down the steps.
“Juwon-ah, why aren’t you picking up? Do I really have to lure you with a text to talk to you? Voicemails are risky. Delete this after hearing it. The skeleton that you found has been identified. Lee Geumhwa. Korean-Chinese. She was once investigated by Foreign Affairs. Other than the burner phone that had her DNA on it, the one she used to text you, is there anything else that ties her to you? I need to know so I can figure out what to do. Your father and I are going to keep things under control. Deny everything until we discuss it. Just say you don’t know the woman, okay?”
The recording ended, and Juwon returned his phone to his pocket. Imagining Hyeok’s reaction to what he was about to do next wasn’t difficult. Or pleasant. Regardless, he pushed through the door and stepped into the morgue. The mortuary assistant in light blue scrubs and a mask approached him upon noticing his arrival.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“I am Han Juwon Gyeong-wi. I am here for Lee Geumhwa-ssi’s body.”
Confusion was obvious on the mortuary assistant’s face, even with the mask he wore.
“…Ah, yes. Do you have documentation?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, you’re a police officer, so I’m sure you know how this works. You need to prove your relationship with Lee Geumhwa-ssi first.”
“Has…anyone come to claim her body?” Juwon asked hesitantly.
“Who would come to claim an illegal immigrant masseuse?” The mortuary assistant sighed. “Even if no family members or friends show up, we have to wait until a family member signs a waiver. So, we’ll have to keep her body in there for months. It’s a nuisance for us, too. But Hyeongsa-nim, what’s your relationship with her?”
“I’m an acquaintance.”
“An acquaintance can’t claim the body. Can’t you reach someone in China?”
Before he could respond, two more people came down the hall to the morgue. Juwon turned toward the sound of their voices and stiffened at the sight of Sangbae with the mortician. They both wore crisp black suits, which was certainly abnormal for the former. Sangbae trailed off whatever he was saying to the mortician when he saw Juwon.
“Han Gyeong-wi.”
“Sojang-nim.”
“What brings you here?” Sangbae wondered.
“Pardon?”
“You didn’t hear about Minjeong-ie?”
“No, what happened?”
“Jinmuk, that j—” Sangbae paused to take a calming breath. “That jerk gave up her body so we could hold a funeral for her. I came to get her. Did Dongsik-ie really not tell you?”
“Uh, no, he didn’t,” Juwon answered. “Is she being cremated right away?”
Sangbae nodded over at the morgue drawers.
“This place is ice-cold, and Minjeong-ie was buried in the cold ground for a long time. I want to get her out of here.”
The eye contact was getting to be too much, so Juwon blinked and looked down. Then, the mortuary assistant approached them again.
“Did you bring the document for body transportation?” he asked Sangbae.
“Ah, yes, it’s right here.”
Sangbae reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a white envelope, and gave it to the waiting man, who took it politely with both hands. The rest of the exchange was lost on Juwon as he stared at the drawer in which Lee Geumhwa lay, unclaimed and unable to rest in peace. This was all Juwon’s fault. He was the one who put her there, if not directly, then by consequence. He thought Jinmuk’s arrest would assuage part of the guilt that pressed on his chest, but he still couldn’t do right by her. Just how many other lives were impacted by her death? As the mortuary assistant implied, did anyone else even notice her absence, or care? Or was he the only one to carry the burden?
“Han Gyeong-wi,” Sangbae called, pulling Juwon out of his reverie.
“Yes?”
“The cremation is at three. I’ll text you the address. You don’t have to come, of course, but I’m sure everyone would appreciate you being there.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you. I’ll be leaving first, then.”
Juwon bowed and then turned on his heel to exit the morgue. He didn’t know what to say or do. This was the first time he was invited to a funeral in his adult life, and he didn’t even know the person. In fact, during what would be their first and last encounter, Minjeong seemed to despise him. So why would he go to the cremation?
On the walk back to his car in the parking lot, Juwon replayed the conversation he’d had with Sangbae. Did Dongsik-ie really not tell you? Was Dongsik supposed to tell him? I’m sure everyone would appreciate you being there. Maybe Sangbae meant that Juwon should go not necessarily for Minjeong, but for Dongsik and the others. That was more logical.
Juwon looked at his reflection in the shiny blue paint of his car. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a cremation. He was wearing a white shirt with no tie. But if he kept his coat on, then it probably wouldn’t matter. His trousers and derby shoes were both black, so that would suffice. And a thick layer of concealer hid most of the bruise on his left cheek.
The text from Sangbae came shortly after Juwon started the car and adjusted the climate control settings. He copied the address and pasted it into the Maps app on his phone. The drive was only twenty minutes. By the time he arrived, he would still have nearly half an hour to decide if he was going to go in. Good, that was plenty of time. He started the navigation and pulled out of the parking lot with an unsettled stomach.
At precisely three o’clock, Juwon entered the crematory. He followed the instructions of an employee and strode down a barren, clinical hallway until he reached the room with the cremation chamber. To the left was a narrow wooden table set with Minjeong’s portrait. A pot of white chrysanthemums sat below it. Everyone from Manyang Police Substation, Park Jeongje, Jaei, and Jihwa filled the room. Juwon stopped at the threshold, unsure if he was intruding or not.
Amongst the sea of black, the pale-yellow wanjang on Dongsik’s right arm stood out to Juwon. He was the sangju, then. Juwon supposed that made sense even though they weren’t related by blood. Jihun’s words from the day of Minjeong’s disappearance suddenly echoed in Juwon’s head. Dongsik-hyeong tries to be a mom and half a dad to Minjeong. Because that’s who he is.
Juwon hadn’t seen Dongsik since the night before, and the sight of him from behind, standing resolutely in a black suit, gave Juwon strange heart palpitations very different to a panic attack. He frowned. The distracting sensation faded away when the screen next to the cremation chamber changed from “the late Kang Minjeong” to “cremating.”
A chill fell on the room despite the blazing furnace. In front of Juwon, Jihwa answered a call and whispered into the phone. She turned around and stepped out of the room. Juwon bowed although she didn’t appear to notice him.
Then, her brother Jihun rushed forward, slammed his fist against the wall, and began crying. Gwang-yeong and Gilgu grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away from the chamber. The movement caught Juwon’s eye, but then he drifted back to Dongsik. The profile of his face was visible now. Juwon swallowed.
“Let her leave in peace,” Gwang-yeong said as Gilgu firmly patted Jihun on the back.
“I’m sorry,” Jihun sobbed. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you that day.”
Jaei ran a hand through her hair and spun around to confront Jihun.
“What about that day?” she snapped. “What did you do?”
“Jaei-ya,” Jeongje softly warned, but she ignored him.
“That day, what did any of us here do wrong? Huh?” Jaei walked over to Jihun and got in his face. “Hey. Why are you sorry? Why are you making yourself guilty? Why would you crawl into that hell? Why?”
She slapped and shook Jihun like it would make him see the truth and then broke down herself. Jihun collapsed to the floor and banged his forehead against the tile. A commotion ensued after that. Juwon watched helplessly as Gilgu, Sangbae, and Jeongje converged to help lift Jihun onto Gwang-yeong’s back.
“Take off his tie and take him outside,” Sangbae instructed the others.
“I’ll go. Stay here with Dongsik,” Jeongje told Jaei.
Over half of the group exited the crematory, leaving a disorienting silence behind them. Juwon blinked rapidly and then turned toward the room again. He looked at Dongsik, whose gaze had been fixed on him without his knowledge. Their eyes met briefly before Dongsik looked away.
“Dongsik, you go out and get some fresh air,” Sangbae said. “This will take a while. Han Gyeong-wi, Jaei, you should go out, too.”
There was a note of finality to Sangbae’s voice, but Jihwa returned the next moment.
“Eonni,” Jaei called.
“It’s okay. He’ll be all right,” Jihwa told her. Then to Sangbae, “I’m sorry he keeps worrying you.”
“No, no. Don’t say that. Take him home, feed him, and put him to sleep.”
“I’m actually going back to the station. Dongsik, Han Gyeong-wi, I need you to come with me after this.”
Dongsik looked between Juwon and Jihwa.
“But the questioning is over. Can’t you interview the witnesses tomorrow?” Sangbae asked.
“He says he’ll talk with these two,” Jihwa explained. She glanced at Dongsik and then Juwon. “Kang Jinmuk is asking for you two.”
Juwon’s stomach sank, and he couldn’t get himself to look at anyone anymore.
“I—I will go first so you two can stay here until the end,” he blurted.
Juwon bowed thrice for good measure and then went for the exit just as abruptly as the others had done.
Juwon paced up and down the hallway at Munju Police Station. Jeong Cheolmun and Gwak Oseop were seated in the observation room, and another officer had already brought Jinmuk from his holding cell into the interrogation room. Jihwa and Dosu waited with Juwon in the hall, leaning against the wall without speaking. Before arriving, Jihwa had changed into more casual clothes, and Juwon found himself hoping that Dongsik hadn’t done the same.
For no other reason than that it was a waste of time.
“Han Gyeong-wi, you’re making me nervous,” Jihwa complained. “Please stop pacing.”
“He’s late,” Juwon said.
“What?”
“Lee Dongsik Gyeongsa. He said he would be here in twenty minutes. That was almost half an hour ago. Didn’t you leave with him at the same time?”
Jihwa made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a scoff.
“It was about the same time, yes. He probably got stuck at a stoplight or something. He’ll be here soon.”
The sound of urgent footsteps approaching had all three of them turning their heads. Dongsik rounded the corner and jogged toward them. He stopped in front of Jihwa and glanced at each person in turn. Juwon watched him unzip his suede jacket to reveal a white tee-shirt with red stripes underneath. He knitted his brows. Surely it didn’t take Dongsik ten extra minutes just to change.
“Is he in there?” Dongsik asked, pointing at the interrogation room door.
Jihwa nodded. Juwon opened his mouth to comment on Dongsik’s tardiness, but Dongsik spoke first.
“Let’s go, Han Gyeong-wi.”
Dongsik walked past them all and barged into the interrogation room. Jihwa and Dosu hastened to join the others in the observation room while Juwon grudgingly followed his partner. Inside, Jinmuk sat hunched over in the single chair on the far side of the table. He looked pathetic, but Juwon knew better now.
“You can uncuff him,” Dongsik told the other officer in the room.
“Are you sure?” the officer asked but immediately thought better of his insubordination when Dongsik leveled him with a glare sharper than a knife. He removed the handcuffs with a mumbled, “Yessir.”
“Go wait in the hall.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dongsik grabbed the back of the metal chair in front of the computer, dragged it over the floor with an ear-piercing scrape, and sat down with a groan. Apparently Juwon was going to be the observer. He seated himself in the other chair and crossed his arms over his chest while Dongsik pressed the power button on the tower. The monitor remained black. Dongsik stood up with a sigh and then squatted in front of the tower. He pressed the button again, to no avail. Both Juwon and Jinmuk jumped when Dongsik slapped the top of the tower several times. The keyboard fell victim to his hand next.
“Dongsik-ah,” said Jinmuk.
“Why won’t this turn on?” Dongsik wondered.
“I have something to say. The thing is—”
“Damn it,” Dongsik cut him off, continuing his obnoxious banging. “Under our law, the questioning detective must write a report during the interrogation. I don’t know why that is, but wait a moment.”
“Excuse me, Han Juwon Gyeong-wi-nim,” Jinmuk tried instead.
Juwon looked up.
“He’s an observer. He can only watch. It’s illegal for him to talk,” Dongsik interrupted again.
Juwon uncrossed his arms and sat up straight to say, “I am Gyeong-wi Han Juwon, and I’m here as an observer.”
“Damn it,” Dongsik repeated and then faced the one-way mirror. “You haven’t gotten a new computer yet? I can’t believe your Seojang, Jeong Cheolmun. His office looked all fancy, too…just butt heads with him, Jihwa-ya! Hm? Or tip off the press.”
The litany of curses and bangs continued until Juwon couldn’t bear it anymore. He stood and went around the table to the back of the monitor and pushed in the cords. The display finally lit up. Dongsik’s expression became one of exaggerated surprise.
“Oooh, thank you,” he said in English, for some reason.
They both returned to their chairs.
“What are all these?” Dongsik asked himself, clicking around the screen.
“Are you ready now?” Jinmuk wondered.
“Hang on. Let me pull up the report form first.”
Jinmuk hung his head in disappointment, and then he spoke in a tone that made the hairs on the back of Juwon’s neck stand up.
“That noisy bitch.”
Dongsik and Juwon looked at him.
“She talked too much.” Jinmuk raised his head. “Right? That’s why I got angry. That’s what happened.”
“And which one was that?” Dongsik asked.
“Huh?”
“I don’t think you’re talking about one person. You have to tell me who’s who for the report.”
“Well, the thing is…I don’t know. How would I know that? It’s…all in my imagination.”
“Your imagination?”
Jinmuk nodded and then added, “I just assumed that would be the case. I had a lot of time in the holding cell and nothing better to do.”
Juwon swallowed thickly. Next to him, Dongsik’s eyes welled with angry tears, but he didn’t let them fall.
“I wonder if those women repented,” said Jinmuk.
“Repent?”
“I’m not religious or anything, but we should all repent our sins before we die.”
The words coming out of that monster’s mouth were unbelievable. Juwon closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as if doing so would prevent him from succumbing to the urge to speak.
“Were they all guilty of something?” he asked, the law be damned.
Dongsik glanced at Juwon, mildly shocked to hear his voice.
“Based on what you said, Lee Geumhwa, Yeo Chunok, Wi Sunhui, Jin Hwarim…they all had sins to repent. What about the first person?”
“The first?” Jinmuk echoed. “Not her. She would never—”
“It’s your daughter,” Juwon deadpanned.
“Who knows? Everything is in my imagination. I know nothing.”
Juwon turned his head toward Dongsik and asked, “If she would never do something like that, why would he kill his daughter? Should I ask him?”
Dongsik nodded once, pursing his lips. Juwon leaned forward.
“Kang Minjeong-ssi—”
“Observer. Wait a minute. You said you’re not allowed to talk!” Jinmuk panicked.
“—is not your biological daughter, is she?” Juwon finished.
“Wh-wh-what kind of nonsense is that? Minjeong-ie is my daughter! I’m sure she’s m-m-my daughter. Dong-Dong-Dongsik-ah. You know, right? Y-you kn-know, don’t you?”
Jinmuk stood and pointed at Juwon.
“Th-th-this person broke the law. M-make him leave! Get out. Get out of here!”
“Sit down!” Dongsik shouted. “Lower that finger before I cut it off.”
Jinmuk’s eyes widened hearing Dongsik speak like that. He slowly lowered his arm and then resumed his slouched position in the chair.
“Funny you should say that since he cut off people’s fingers,” Juwon commented.
“When did I do that? I never did that,” Jinmuk muttered. He folded his hands on the table and then stared into the one-way mirror. “You said it’s illegal for the observer to talk. Make Han Juwon Gyeong-wi leave this room right now.”
Dongsik laughed wryly.
“Motherfucker. Illegal, my ass.”
Juwon needed to remedy the situation, so he said, “Since I interfered, we can discard the report and start over from the beginning.”
“We can do that, according to the law,” Dongsik agreed. “You said it was all in your imagination, so we would’ve had to start over anyway. Han Juwon Gyeong-wi-nim, please do not interfere again.”
Juwon nodded with an apology.
“All right. Let’s start over. Kang Jinmuk-ssi, please remain calm when you answer. It’s more suspicious if you overreact. There were many rumors twenty years ago…about Mihye-nuna.”
Dongsik smirked to himself like he had a card up his sleeve. The tension in the room was palpable. Juwon furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Where did you first meet your wife Yun Mihye-ssi? At a hostess bar, correct?”
“That’s nonsense,” Jinmuk said.
“When did you find out that she was pregnant?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I always thought you two looked nothing alike. Damn, I’m relieved that a prick like you isn’t really a father.” Dongsik pointed at Jinmuk. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Jinmuk’s upper lip twitched as he bared his teeth.
“No…” he whispered.
Leaning across the table to taunt the beast, Dongsik stuck his finger in Jinmuk’s face.
“You knew. You knew, didn’t you? You definitely knew.”
“No!” Jinmuk screamed.
Anger exploded from the wretched man’s body. Jinmuk launched off his chair and climbed onto the table. He crawled across the surface, pushing Dongsik along the way, and scrambled to his feet on the other side. Juwon jumped up as Dongsik stumbled backward, but he froze when Jinmuk pinned Dongsik to the wall with both hands on his throat. Despite being strangled, Dongsik calmly grabbed Jinmuk’s wrists. He made no move to escape and merely smiled instead.
“What? You’re laughing? Why? Why?!”
Jinmuk’s ragged screams spurred Juwon into action. He grabbed a fistful of Jinmuk’s hair and yanked. Jinmuk bowed backward but didn’t let go, so Juwon put him in a chokehold and dragged him bodily across the room. Dongsik clutched his throat and coughed. Jinmuk clawed at Juwon’s arm, but Juwon only squeezed harder. A strange, vivid image of Jinmuk’s head popping off like that of a doll’s flashed in his mind.
Other than that, he couldn’t see or hear anything else that was happening. He didn’t notice Dosu and Oseop shouting at him to let go until they worked together to pry him off of Jinmuk, who dropped to the floor. Dosu kneeled over Jinmuk and cradled his head in the crook of his elbow. He shook him to see if he was coherent, but Jinmuk only glared up at Dongsik, who watched the spectacle with a manic grin.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Oseop asked.
Juwon made eye contact with Dongsik. They both panted from the exertion and adrenaline. Oseop barked Juwon’s name furiously, but Juwon bolted from the room. He side-stepped Cheolmun on the way out and marched down the hallway. Closing his eyes and shaking his head did nothing to clear the chaos that rattled his brain like a convict does the bars of their cell. He tried to keep going but ran into Sangbae and Jihwa.
Sangbae put his hands in his pockets and said, “My goodness, Han Gyeong-wi. It’s as if you two have been partners for at least a decade. You’ve become one of us now.”
“Sojang-nim. I would like to take some time off. I request a vacation,” Juwon stated.
“A vacation?” Sangbae repeated.
Jihwa stepped forward to add, “A vacation at a time like this?”
“All right. Go ahead,” Sangbae conceded.
Jihwa was visibly displeased with Sangbae’s decision, but she held her tongue. Juwon bowed to Sangbae and then told Jihwa to take care even though she had no business butting into the conversation like that. He went through the green double doors and shut them tight as if he was sealing off the events of the evening.
Next, he shook out his trench coat and then brushed himself off in order. Left, right, front, front. Left, right, front, front. Twice, to be safe. Juwon shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to go home and be alone for a while.
Back at his apartment, Juwon picked over some leftovers that were in the fridge. He wasn’t all that hungry despite the hour he’d spent on his exercise bike, and that could be attributed to any one of a number of things that had happened over the past forty-eight hours. Different images and sounds replayed in his mind over and over like some disturbing horror movie. Juwon couldn’t make heads or tails of the emotions all the memories caused.
Just days ago, he’d been convinced that Dongsik was an accomplice who was involved in the murders. Learning that Jinmuk was the culprit had shifted his entire viewpoint, and the sudden change was overwhelming. Dongsik went from a cold-blooded serial killer to a witting accessory to a bereaved man in what felt like a blink of an eye. Even in the short amount of time between Dongsik’s confession to moving Minjeong’s fingers and Jinmuk’s clandestine arrest, Juwon found that he could almost understand Dongsik’s decision. As they’d discussed at the substation before, one cannot be prosecuted for murder without a body, so finding Minjeong was top priority for arresting Jinmuk.
But that didn’t change the fact that Dongsik broke the law and, in so doing, destroyed any chance they had of finding Minjeong when she was still alive. If Dongsik had followed proper procedure, then things might have been different, and this is what Juwon was struggling with mentally. Dongsik might not be involved like Juwon originally thought, but he was still responsible for her death, at least in part.
Juwon pushed his plate away. Nothing had worked to distract him—not exercise, food, or TV. The only remaining thing to try was sleep, no matter how hopeless that seemed. He didn’t need to close his eyes to see Dongsik crouched over Minjeong’s half-buried body, trembling with repressed sobs. Or Dongsik, clad in black, standing in front of the cremation chamber with squared shoulders as the voracious fire consumed Minjeong. Or Dongsik letting himself be strangled with an unhinged smile on his face.
Still, exhaustion should win out eventually. That was the lie Juwon repeated to himself as he washed the dishes, wiped down the table, and prepared for bed. The ceiling of his studio apartment laughed at his foolish attempt to sleep, and it sounded strangely similar to Dongsik’s deranged cackle.