BITM Ch11

In the year 20xx, on the xxth of the month, a body was discovered at xx Mountain, where an apartment was under construction. Details: 23 contusions, 8 fractures, and the fatal injury—a blow to the back of the head.

Jin, passing over the crime scene photos, slammed the documents down roughly. The image of the deceased, whose body was swollen and red, plunged his mood to the depths.

The victim, a mere five-year-old child, bore no intact bones or skin. The case involved a child who died from excessive domestic abuse and whose parents abandoned the body in the mountains. The parents turned themselves in after a single day, and the body was found exactly where they had indicated.

“Prosecutor.”

Lee Inyeong’s voice, calling Jin, was thick with outrage.

“The investigator mentioned bringing additional materials this afternoon. Shall I include the documents transferred from family court with them?”

“Yes, please do that.”

“How could anyone… to their own child… It’s sickening. And since they turned themselves in, the sentencing is predictable.”

“The defense will likely argue involuntary manslaughter, so we must establish intentionality at all costs.”

He could already envision the defense’s arguments: they’d claim they only hit the child to discipline them and never intended to kill. They’d plead tearfully for leniency. For now, the best course of action was to prove willful negligence. But to beat a child to death and call it negligence? It was nothing short of deliberate.

Jin rattled his cigarette pack. Only a few sticks remained, their sound faint inside the box. Smoking inside the office was out of the question, so he tossed the pack back onto his desk. The towering stack of documents—thousands of pages—remained unyielding.

The pressure of deadlines for handling complaints, the looming expiration of detentions, and unsolved cases piled up on top of it all. Winter, a season rife with incidents, meant overtime and all-nighters were standard. It wasn’t new, but his cigarette consumption had doubled.

The rage ignited by the photos also brought back the image of a pale man.

He had once confided about being abused. The sight of the dead child’s body made Jin break out in a cold sweat. It reminded him too much of Han Naeyung.

Han Naeyung had told him his past traumas were severe and not to pursue him. Though he hadn’t explicitly said it, Jin had understood the unspoken meaning behind his words. Ordinarily, he would’ve dismissed it and pushed forward, but he knew doing so would only backfire.

He shouldn’t have probed that way. At the time, he had been so engrossed in his legal mindset that he had acted like an interrogator, even toward someone he cared about.

Since the day he lost Han Naeyung, he had thought endlessly to the point of exhaustion, but one thing was clear:

“I absolutely cannot give up.”

That thought had been unwavering from start to finish.

Jin suddenly stood up. Lee Inyeong looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll be stepping out for a while. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

Jin swiftly donned his coat and left the office. The elevators were all going up, so he descended to the parking lot via the stairs. Even as he pulled out onto the road, traffic lights repeatedly halted him. His gloved hands tapped restlessly on the steering wheel. His impatience had reached its peak.

Every night, he passed by the animal hospital with its blinds drawn, checking the second floor. The lights had never been on. Only the glow of the sign reflected faintly against the curtains covering the windows. It made him wonder if that night, when they had shared soju, had been some kind of illusion. But on that night, Han Naeyung hadn’t rejected his approach—in fact, he had even invited him to the hospital.

“I’m… not someone who can be with anyone.”

That explicit rejection had made Jin hesitate to act recklessly ever since. Yet, if Han Naeyung truly believed that, he would have pushed him away from the very beginning.

Despite his urgency, Jin found no suitable place to park near the hospital. Frustrated, he left his car in a no-parking zone, disregarding the camera monitoring illegal parking. So what if he got a ticket? Jin turned off the engine and headed straight for the animal hospital. From the outside, he saw only Lee Seolhwa inside; there were no customers.

Taking a deep breath, Jin pushed open the door.

“Hello.”

“Oh? Nari’s dad, hello!”

Ignoring her greeting, Jin asked, “Is there a patient being treated right now?”

“No, just the doctor at the moment.”

Without hesitation, Jin stood in front of the consultation room door. Lee Seolhwa’s curious gaze followed him as he knocked, then grasped the doorknob with his gloved hand.

Han Naeyung, who had been reading, looked up. His eyes flickered with surprise and unease upon seeing Jin, clearly not expecting him.

“What brings you here?”

“Dr. Han.”

“….”

Jin shut the door behind him and strode toward Han Naeyung, who remained seated. His pale hands were still visible from holding the book.

“Take my hand.”

Jin extended his gloved hand. Han Naeyung looked at him, troubled.

“If you want me to give up, don’t take it. But if you don’t… take it.”

“…I won’t take it.”

The frigid air clinging to Jin’s coat seemed to freeze the tense atmosphere. Jin retracted his hand and, contrary to his earlier statement, said something else.

“I’ve decided I won’t give up.”

Since Jin had entered the room, a faint, sweet scent lingered in the air. Han Naeyung deliberately took a deep breath.

“I told you I wouldn’t take your hand.”

A rare stiff expression flashed briefly across Jin’s face before it was replaced with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t take it, not that you can’t. That’s a big difference.”

Which is why I’m not giving up, Jin said. There was a clear difference between won’t and can’t. Han Naeyung realized his slip but remained silent, knowing Jin was right.

“I left work to come here, so I need to get back. I’ll come again this evening.”

“No. Don’t come.”

Han Naeyung spoke coldly. His interlaced fingers were drained of color. Despite his firm refusal, he didn’t meet Jin’s eyes at all.

“Do you dislike me, or do you just want to avoid me?”

“…….”

“If you really hate me, just say it. I have no intention of tormenting Dr. Han.”

In front of Han Naeyung, Jin was willing to play the shameless man. He had no choice; otherwise, he would never be able to hold onto someone like him. Still, he pressed the silent Han Naeyung.

“I kissed you that day, fully prepared to face the consequences. But it’s embarrassing to think my preparation was unnecessary. Was I so insignificant that you didn’t even think I deserved a punch?”

Han Naeyung’s gaze shifted to Jin’s lips. That day, it hadn’t just ended with a kiss. Any lie would be uncovered in an instant.

“It wasn’t… like that.”

“Then what about sex?”

Han Naeyung flinched at the blunt question.

“Prosecutor Jin.”

“You said you weren’t someone who could be with another person. But that didn’t apply to me, did it? Why not start by physically colliding?”

“I would only burden you, Prosecutor… no matter when.”

“It feels like I’m the one being burdensome right now.”

“…….”

Jin reached out to Han Naeyung’s faintly furrowed brow. The cold leather of his glove brushed against his forehead, making him flinch for just a moment.

“If you leave any opening, I’ll move in immediately, just like now.”

If Han Naeyung wanted to push Jin away, he couldn’t show even the slightest gap. But when faced with Jin, Han Naeyung couldn’t fully shut his heart. The suffocating feeling that had weighed on him eased the moment he saw him. It was hard to push him away. Jin carried a scent that was painfully familiar.

“Prosecutor Jin… do you like candy?”

Jin gently touched the hair brushing against Han Naeyung’s forehead.

“Smokers usually don’t. Why?”

“It’s just… the smell.”

Jin raised his arm and sniffed his suit. He didn’t smell anything. Then he leaned in slightly, stopping just short of touching Han Naeyung, and inhaled. A smile played on his lips, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“I’ve always thought Dr. Han smelled sweet and pleasant. Is it cologne?”

“…Yes.”

Jin’s eyes widened. He’d always assumed the scent was natural since he couldn’t imagine Han Naeyung wearing cologne.

“The scent is nice. Could you recommend it to me?”

“Ah…”

Han Naeyung let out a flustered sound and closed his mouth. Jin wondered if he’d forgotten the name of the cologne.

“It’s… dog cologne. Well, more like mist. If you spray it on animals, the scent lingers.”

Jin laughed softly. So the scent he had picked up on Dr. Han was from pet cologne, like the one used on Nari.

“Do I smell strange to you?”

“No.”

Han Naeyung only thought to himself: It’s just too good…

The sound of knocking on Jin’s office door brought Han Naeyung back to his senses. Jin adjusted his leather gloves for a better fit.

“I need to go. Nari seemed to be coming down with a cold, so I’ll bring her by in the evening. That’s not just an excuse.”

He added his characteristic charming smile. When Jin opened the door, the owner of a Maltese waiting outside looked startled, surprised by the sudden appearance of the tall, handsome man.

The Maltese, cradled in its owner’s arms, leaned out with curiosity toward Jin as he passed. A damp nose left a smear on Jin’s black suit. He casually wiped it off with his hand before heading toward Lee Seolhwa.

Jin politely greeted her, apologizing for any inconvenience.

What on earth did he talk about with the doctor? Lee Seolhwa wondered. Unlike the serious expression he’d worn earlier, Jin’s face now looked bright, piquing her curiosity.

Then, Jin, with a slightly less serious expression, asked her:

“Ms. Seolhwa, do I smell like a widower?”

* * *

Yesterday marked the beginning of spring, but winter seemed to be making its last stand, bitterly cold. The humidifier in the prosecutor’s office was working overtime, leaving the papers slightly damp.

The file for the Ogeori corpse case had arrived in the morning, and Jin needed to review it thoroughly before lunch. The police were investigating the scene and its surroundings. Within an 8-kilometer radius of the crime scene, there were eight hospitals equipped with pentobarbital sodium.

Jin skimmed through the hospital information until he paused on a familiar name.

Twin Animal Hospital.

Jin tapped the file with his finger, as if trying to shake off the unsettling sensation lingering at his fingertips.

Pentobarbital Sodium Acquisition Records
3 purchases.

Usage Records
1 use on xx/xx.

Special Notes
None.

Jin scanned the contents and let out a long sigh. Then, oddly, he felt a sense of relief. Of course, it had nothing to do with it. Han Naeyung wasn’t the type to kill anyone.

As the saying goes, you may know the depths of water, but not the depths of a person’s heart. But having witnessed it with his own eyes, Jin was sure. He thought back to the day he’d seen a severely injured, wheezing cat.

* * *

It was a Friday afternoon.

Jin arrived at the hospital just as work hours were ending, his senses sharp as he noticed drops of blood scattered on the floor. Lee Seolhwa was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of a woman crying came from inside the examination room. Jin quickly ran toward the source.

On the examination table lay a cat, its fur soaked in blood, barely clinging to life. Although Jin was accustomed to seeing corpses in his line of work, witnessing the process of death firsthand was another matter entirely.

“They said there was nothing more they could do at Jang Animal Hospital. They assured me the surgery had gone well… Doctor, please… Please save him.”

Han Naeyung’s eyes were filled with anguish, his surgical gloves stained completely red. Even to an untrained eye, it was evident the cat was hanging on by a thread.

“I’m sorry… Even if we attempt surgery in this condition, it won’t survive.”

His voice was heavy, pressed down with guilt. At his words, the cat’s owner let out a heart-wrenching wail. The cat, which had undergone major surgery earlier, seemed to have reopened its wound, possibly during the transfer from Jang Animal Hospital to this clinic.

The woman wept uncontrollably for a long time, eventually covering the cat’s eyes as it looked up at her. She sobbed that if left as it was, it would only continue to suffer in pain before dying. It had already endured so much, and she didn’t want to prolong its agony. She pleaded for it to be allowed to pass peacefully. Lee Seolhwa, who stood nearby, also shed tears.

It was then that Han Naeyung locked eyes with Jin, who was watching him with concern. For the first time, Han Naeyung’s face fully reflected his turmoil and inner struggle, his emotions laid bare.

After a long pause, he opened a tightly secured cabinet and retrieved a small vial of medication. He removed his gloves and clenched his trembling hands, an effort to suppress the shaking. As he slowly filled a syringe, his hesitation was evident to Jin.

When the cat finally took its last breath after the agonizing moment, everyone in the room seemed to collapse inwardly.

Pale and visibly shaken, Han Naeyung looked at Jin, his face ashen. Supporting himself on the examination table, he barely managed to walk out of the room, leaning his back against the shower room door. His eyes were filled with unbearable pain and guilt.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked, approaching him cautiously. Han Naeyung raised his head slightly, staring blankly into space.

“No,” he answered, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to dispel the pain.

Faintly, almost imperceptibly, Jin thought he heard him call, “Prosecutor…” His voice was soft, almost pleading.

“Just… come closer,” Han Naeyung mumbled, his half-open eyes unfocused. Jin suppressed the urge to pull him into an embrace and comfort him. Instead, the two of them stood face to face in the narrow hallway.

Jin reached out and gently wiped the cold sweat from Han Naeyung’s forehead. The dampness didn’t absorb into his leather gloves, leaving the sweat still visible. He wished he could touch the weary face with his bare hand, to soothe him properly.

Why had he initially thought that Han Naeyung was more suited to being a coroner than a veterinarian? Just putting an end to a fading life had left him looking so fragile.

Jin stepped a little closer. Han Naeyung’s long black lashes lifted, revealing a complex expression in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, as if releasing a tightly wound string inside him, Han Naeyung exhaled slowly.

On the other hand, Jin felt as though his own body was being constricted. This man, who had repeatedly pushed him away, was now telling him to come closer, seeking comfort in his presence. Jin recognized the truth of his feelings—he wanted to be the only place where Han Naeyung could truly feel at ease.

Usage Log
x Month xx Day – 1 time

It had been the same day the cat died. Jin could vouch for this himself. He swallowed a sip of cold, diluted coffee.

“Prosecutor, didn’t you say you’re visiting the morgue at 2? Chief is also on his way now,” Seon Wookjae reminded him as he worked on summoning the suspect.

“Got it.”

“If you go into the autopsy now, you won’t have time for lunch.”

“Exactly why I’m eating now,” Jin replied.

“Doesn’t matter when you eat—either way, it’s going to mess with your stomach.”

Lee Inyeong clicked her tongue in exasperation, but Jin assured her his stomach was strong before returning to his documents.

Why had the perpetrator cut out the tongue in this case? It didn’t seem like a gang’s retaliatory killing to silence someone for leaking secrets. With no trace of the tongue at the scene, it seemed likely the perpetrator had taken it. But there was another question that intrigued him.

The police must have already visited Han Naeyung. Yet, he hadn’t mentioned a word about it to Jin. Sure, he had practically pushed him out the door the moment he arrived, but they had just met the previous day. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to relive the memory of euthanizing the cat. Jin thought back to Han Naeyung’s exhausted face.

With a rustling sound, Jin reached habitually for a cigarette but stopped himself, opting instead to pull out a strawberry-flavored hard candy from his desk drawer.

“Can I have one too?” Lee Inyeong asked, raising her hand at the sound of the wrapper. Jin grabbed a handful and passed them to her.

“Are you finally quitting smoking?” she teased.

“No,” Jin replied, looking as if the suggestion wounded him.

“Then what’s with the candy?”

“Someone seems to like them,” he said.

“Who?” she pressed, but Jin only smiled without answering. Just as she was about to ask again, the door opened.

“He’s here,” the section chief announced, pointing behind him with his thumb.

A guard entered, escorting the suspect in handcuffs. The man bit his cracked lips nervously as he was seated in front of Jin.

Unlike usual, Jin skipped any formalities and immediately began the questioning, starting with verifying the suspect’s identity.

“Lee Yuhwan, why did you turn yourself in?”

After completing the identification questioning, Jin asked abruptly. She was one of the perpetrators in the ongoing investigation of the “filicide and abandonment” case.

“I felt sorry for my child… So I turned myself in.”

Despite her haggard appearance, her words flowed smoothly. Jin, uncharacteristically sharp, asked in disbelief.

“Why did you commit such an act in the first place if you were going to feel sorry?”

“Prosecutor, you’re not married, are you?”

The accused stared directly at Jin.

“You wouldn’t know how hard it is to raise a child, especially one like ours who had ADHD. It was incredibly challenging to educate him.”

“Are you saying you disciplined him for educational purposes?”

“Yes.”

Jin coldly observed the accused. The candy rolling around in his mouth had melted, leaving only a trace of sweetness.

23 bruises, 8 fractures. The fatal injury was a blow to the back of the head.

This was the autopsy result for the victim child, caused by the couple. A throbbing ache shot through Jin’s neck. The scene was absurd—perpetrators posing as victims after committing such atrocities. It was obvious the husband, up next for questioning, would spout the same nonsense to reduce his sentence.

“Officer, these handcuffs are very uncomfortable,” the accused said, raising her clasped hands to show the cuffs on her wrists.

“Should I remove them?” Section Chief, busy drafting a report, asked for permission. Human rights commissions had recommended that suspects’ restraints be removed in prosecutor’s offices. Jin glanced briefly at her restrained hands.

“Leave them as they are.”

“Excuse me, Prosecutor. I heard the suspect’s rights must be ensured for a free testimony,” the accused said in a measured tone.

“Ms. Lee Yuhwan, do you give your testimony with your hands? If you have complaints, address them after leaving here,” Jin retorted coldly.

Criminals love the law, Seon Wookjae muttered under his breath. Violent criminals were often well-versed in legal loopholes to find a way out. The accused pressed her lips together in silence.

“Did you confirm the child’s death before abandoning him?”

“…Yes, he suddenly stopped breathing.”

“So, taking him to the hospital was never an option?”

“No! His heart had already stopped, so I thought there was nothing I could do.”

“Did you check his heartbeat to be sure?”

“Yes.”

She nodded repeatedly, as if trying to convince herself.

“The autopsy found soil in the victim’s lungs, matching the soil where he was buried.”

“Then… Are you saying the child was alive when I buried him?”

Her eyes widened in shock. Abandoning a living child wasn’t just involuntary manslaughter; it was murder.

“That’s correct.”

“No, Prosecutor! When I checked, my child had already stopped breathing.”

“The autopsy suggests otherwise.”

“What’s going to happen to me now?”

She began biting her nails anxiously.

“I won’t get life imprisonment or, worse, the death penalty, will I?”

“Do you feel no remorse for your child at all?”

“Of course, I feel sorry and guilty. But the living have to go on.”

At only 25 years old, even a 10-year sentence would allow her to be released by 35—still plenty of time to start a new life.

“On the day of the burial, you struck his ribs and head with a baseball bat, didn’t you?”

“That was… my husband.”

“And it was you who strangled him?”

“He resisted too much, so I momentarily disciplined him.”

“How did the child resist?”

Her eyes briefly darted to the table before meeting Jin’s gaze again.

“He kicked me, spat on me, and insulted me as a mother.”

“What kind of insults did a five-year-old make?”

“He said he should have been born into another family. How could a child say that to his mother?”

Jin clenched his fists lightly. Seeing her nonchalant attitude, he struggled to suppress his anger.

“Prosecutor, how many years do you think I’ll serve? They don’t give death penalties these days, right?”

“You crazy person! After you killed a perfectly healthy child, you’re concerned about your sentence?” Seon Wookjae exploded, kicking the desk. As the father of a daughter the same age as the victim, his anger was particularly intense.

“Chief, calm down,” Jin urged, barely containing his own fury. Personal emotions needed to be set aside, but the image of Han Naeyung’s scarred back mingled with the victim’s injuries in his mind.

“Listen, I’m a victim too! I was abused as a child!”

Her raised voice echoed sharply, making Jin frown.

“Why are you singling me out? I’m a victim as well!” she sobbed.

“You can discuss that with your lawyer. For now, let’s focus on the case details,” Jin said firmly.