ACJY C21

The duck stew restaurant was packed with groups of people, leaving barely any space to move.

“Look at these Koreans, they live to eat. They could eat anywhere, why crawl all the way out to this backwater village?” 

Taeheun grumbled before shouting towards the interior, 

“Two people here!”

The restaurant had no tables; instead, low tables were set on the floor. Even the counter by the cash register was simply a desk placed at the edge of the wooden floor. Next to the counter was an old-fashioned orange public telephone.

A restaurant employee skillfully set up a table for two for Taeheun and the man. As soon as they sat down, side dishes were brought out on a silver tray. The selection consisted entirely of radish kimchi (kkakdugi), kimchi, peppers, and soybean paste (doenjang). They grabbed salt and pepper shakers from the neighboring table. Soon, two bubbling earthenware pots were placed in front of Taeheun and the man.

The man sprinkled salt and pepper, stirred the broth, and tasted it with a spoon. Seemingly satisfied with the seasoning, he plunged his hand directly into the boiling pot.

“No, Mr. Gibeom. Your hand.”

Before Taeheun could stop him, the man nonchalantly grabbed a piece of duck and tore it apart. A plump leg was lifted from his hand and disappeared straight into his mouth.

Normally, Taeheun would have been disgusted, but his mouth watered. He was hungry despite having been sitting all morning. This was unusual.

As Lee Seonjae, he had a small appetite. “Picky eater” was one of the phrases that best described Lee Seonjae. But since becoming Kim Taeheun, his appetite has been insatiable. Was it because of the name? Maybe his uncle had starved to death. Entertaining these pointless thoughts, Taeheun followed suit, grabbing a piece of duck with his hand. It was hot, but he pretended it wasn’t.

The meat was tender and, even without added salt or pepper, it was flavorful and suited his taste.

“This place is delicious. Worth the trip. Right?” Taeheun said while tearing off a piece of leg meat.

“Do they raise the ducks here? How is it so chewy?”

“There’s a duck farm nearby.”

“Ah, that’s why it’s so delicious. Definitely different.”

Taeheun was impressed. The broth was so rich and savory that he sweated as he spooned it down continuously.

“Jihye’s father, what are you doing here at this hour? Isn’t today the day for harvesting Mr. Jo’s melons?”

One of the customers addressed the man.

“I finished all the work. I have a lunch appointment.”

At the man’s words, the old man looked at Taeheun.

“Ah, the one who came from Seoul?”

“Yes.”

“I heard you were a handsome fellow, and the rumors are true. I heard you were an actor or something. Is that right?”

The old man asked Taeheun.

“Is that the rumor? I wasn’t an actor, but I was briefly involved in the entertainment industry.”

Taeheun casually lied and played along with the old man. After exchanging a few more words, the old man returned to his seat.

“Jihye’s father, this is chicken gizzard sent from that table over there. They said to have it as a palate cleanser.”

A hand quickly placed a plate down and disappeared.

Curious about which table it was, Taeheun looked around and saw an old man with a flushed face from day drinking raise his hand. The man bowed to the old man.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. He’s the eighth cousin of old Mr. Jeong, who lives in the front village.”

Not even a distant relative by marriage, but the eighth cousin of a complete stranger. It was a small world.

“By the way, they serve chicken gizzard at a duck restaurant?”

“They raise chickens too.”

The man replied nonchalantly while picking up a piece of gizzard.

Starting with that old man, a chaotic meal followed. Many elderly people talked to the man or acknowledged him. After exchanging greetings, they each chimed in about their own work. Taeheun understood the man’s packed schedule marked on the calendar.

While talking to the man, the old people kept their eyes on Taeheun, casually gathering information about him before disappearing.

Whatever the village head had said, most people seemed to think Taeheun was preparing to be an actor. Some even thought he was a writer, while others mistook him for a wealthy young man looking at land with his parents’ money. Since he would never see these people again after leaving, he responded appropriately with lies. The man knew Taeheun was lying, but didn’t correct him or interrupt.

As they were almost finished eating, Taeheun’s cell phone vibrated. He had completely forgotten about it because the signal was so weak that he was startled without realizing it. Taeheun pulled the black flip phone from his back pocket and opened it. The man watched him intently.

It was Detective Oh.

―Is it okay to talk?

“Yes, just a moment.”

Taeheun excused himself and stepped outside with the phone. A few waiting customers, seeing him emerge, peeked inside the restaurant, wondering if a table had opened up.

―Were you aware of the Pangyo fraud case?

Unlike Detective Oh’s usual style, he went straight to the point without any pleasantries.

“Yes. Why?”

Taeheun adjusted his grip on the phone. He heard a sigh from the other end.

―The Gyeonggi Provincial Police Chief’s in-law is involved in that fraud. Specifically, his wife’s younger brother.

“So what?”

Taeheun couldn’t understand why Detective Oh was getting agitated. The fraud was committed by Lee Hyeonjun against his own father. The biggest victim was none other than Ilkwang Financial. And even if the Gyeonggi Provincial Police Chief’s in-law was involved, he would be a perpetrator, not a victim.

―How much do you know?

“That Lee Hyeonjun faked being scammed and pocketed 3 billion won. Thanks to my uncle turning a blind eye, it wasn’t even recorded in our accounting books. Seems like they handled it as quietly as possible.”

It had happened when Lee Seonjae was preoccupied with manipulating the VIP ledgers. His uncle had falsified the records with the help of Ilkwang’s legal counsel, tax accountants, and CPAs. Taeheun could have found out if he had wanted to, but his uncle had been so secretive at the time, and Taeheun himself had already received his death sentence, so he hadn’t paid much attention.

―The total damages amount to a whopping 10 billion won. There are several victims besides Ilkwang, and the Gyeonggi Provincial Police Chief’s in-law is among them. His losses are said to be 2 billion won, 2 billion.

Detective Oh sighed.

―Are you sure you don’t know the details? You weren’t involved, were you?

“Yes.”

―You didn’t offer any advice or anything?

This time, Taeheun sighed.

“Detective Oh, what’s the exact reason you’re telling me this?”

The situation seemed ominous, but he couldn’t quite grasp what Lee Hyeonjun’s fraud had to do with him. Detective Oh paused for a moment, calmed his excitement, and spoke in a composed voice.

―The Gyeonggi Provincial Police Chief is a close childhood friend of the Seoul Police Chief. Best buddies. Rumor has it they’d even lay down their lives for each other. It seems the Gyeonggi Chief personally asked the Seoul Chief to take care of this. To catch those bastards and punish them. He said he didn’t care about getting the money back, as long as everyone involved went to jail.

While Detective Oh was speaking, Taeheun walked as far away from the restaurant as possible. A vast rice paddy stretched out before him, a monochrome of green. He put a cigarette in his mouth.

―I don’t know how the story got twisted, but the Chief thinks you were involved. Not just manipulating the books, but participating in the fraud itself. He even said something today about whether the police have an obligation to protect criminals.

Taeheun let out a hollow laugh. It was the prosecution and the police who had planned and orchestrated the arduous and difficult process that led to Lee Seonjae’s death and rebirth as Kim Taeheun. One of the final approvers was the Seoul Police Chief. Of course, he hadn’t directly signed any documents. It wasn’t approval, but rather tacit consent. He had supported the project with the understanding that he would wash his hands of it if any problems arose.

They had persuaded Lee Seonjae, promising to expose all sorts of illegal activities, including tax evasion and bribery, involving high-ranking officials – who could be their superiors, friends, or even fathers.

And now they were questioning their obligation to protect a criminal? Because of the Gyeonggi Chief’s in-law, no less. The Gyeonggi Chief’s in-law wouldn’t have jumped into the Pangyo fraud blindly. He must have eagerly volunteered, knowing it was illegal. Taeheun could guarantee that he had participated knowing it was a criminal act. While he was technically a victim, he was practically no different from a perpetrator.

“Detective Oh, I can clear out of here right now. Whose fault is it that I’m even here? I’m not afraid of dying. Money? I don’t care about that crap. If I did, I wouldn’t have joined hands with you guys in the first place.”

―Oh, Mr. Director, why are you being so extreme?

“You’re talking about victims. Can I prove that this so-called Gyeonggi Chief’s in-law is a fraud? Do I have to listen to this because of that kind of bastard?”

―Oh dear, please calm down. I seem to have offended you with my poor choice of words. I apologize.

Detective Oh sounded flustered. It was always like this. He’d barely been released, and within a day, they were tightening the noose around his neck again.

“I know it’s not your fault, Detective Oh. I know, but please convey this accurately to them. No, you’re recording this conversation, aren’t you? Just relay this as is. Don’t try to shake me up like this again. Do I look like I’m defenseless? I didn’t crawl in here without any backup plan. It’s not you guys who hold my life in your hands, it’s me who holds yours. Fucking hell.”

Taeheun wiped the smile from his face.