BITM Ch12

The defendant covered her face with cuffed hands and sobbed loudly. Jin silently counted to ten before calmly speaking.

“Who suggested burying the child first?”

“…It was my husband. He suggested it first. I told him we should turn ourselves in right away. I only briefly strangled the child and slapped him a few times. Still, maybe this was better for him. If he’d lived longer, he wouldn’t have had a good life anyway, right? Growing up with parents like us who have nothing to offer, he would’ve just ended up living a miserable life like us. Don’t you think? Prosecutor, you wouldn’t understand, having grown up with everything—good food, good clothes. I must look like trash to you, but if I’d been born into a good family, I wouldn’t have turned out like this either.”

Unfortunately for her, Jin had not grown up with good food or fine clothes. The sneer on Jin’s face silenced the defendant, who had been fervently defending herself.

“Keep your justifications to yourself.”

Han Naeyung, too, had endured a painful past, even developing a compulsive need for cleanliness, yet he was dedicating his life to saving animals. Of course, if it weren’t for people as vile as her, he might have been able to live without gloves.

“That’s enough for today. Summon the next suspect.”

Jin turned to the officer and expressed thanks for their effort. The next person to be summoned was the defendant’s husband. The defendant, who had been glaring at Jin with resentment, was reluctantly pulled to her feet by the officer.

“Prosecutor. I don’t know what my husband will say, but that man is an incredible liar.”

Jin, who had already encountered her husband once, was well aware of how reprehensible he was. Still, Jin offered no words of reassurance. The only thought in his mind was a longing to see Han Naeyung.

* * *

Han Naeyung only had time to rest on his regular days off. Last Sunday had been spent attending the early morning service, and today, he had gone to the 11 a.m. service.

There were more young people here compared to the early morning service. Some took notes during the pastor’s sermon, while others seemed to attend out of habit. Among the voices singing hymns, Han Naeyung merely mouthed the words.

Not knowing the songs, he could only follow the lyrics printed on the handouts. His memories of church were limited to bowls of noodles and Choco Pies. When he was very young, a nearby church would provide free noodles to its congregation.

Every weekend, he would head to the church with the orphanage kids, enduring the boring service by squirming in his seat. The reward was a bowl of noodles and a Choco Pie. His younger brother always devoured his Choco Pie on the day he received it.

If Han Naeyung gave Jaemin his own Choco Pie, Jaemin would feel guilty yet unable to hide the smile that spread across his face. Han Naeyung frowned, shaking off the blurred vision clouding his mind. Surrounded by hymn singers, he wrestled with memories of the past.

He fixed his gaze on the back of a head glimpsed in front of him. Jang Joontae. That was the name of the church’s evangelist.

Back when he had been locked away, the man had gone by another name. He must have changed it after being released. The sound of the crumpled handout was drowned out by the hymn.

After the service, Jang Joontae greeted each person with a smile. At the entrance, he held a can of coffee in his hand once again.

“Brother, it’s wonderful to see you. There’s nothing better than seeing familiar faces so often.”

Recognizing Han Naeyung, Jang Joontae brightened. Having attended weekday services a few times, Han Naeyung was now memorable to him. Calmly, Han Naeyung accepted the coffee offered by the man. It was winter, so no one would think much of his gloves.

“Thank you.”

“Not at all. Oh, by the way, why not officially register as a member of the congregation? The youth group could use an extra pair of hands. With your deep faith, it’d be great to do good works together.”

Han Naeyung glanced at the coffee in his hand.

“I’m already registered at another church.”

“Oh, I see. Did you move here, then? Or are you here on a business trip?”

Jang Joontae squinted, studying him.

“I work nearby.”

“If registering feels like too much, you can still participate in youth group activities. There are so many places in need of volunteers, but as a small church, it’s tough to keep up.”

“Volunteer… activities?”

Jang Joontae’s breath felt uncomfortably close as he stepped forward. That breath—still vile. Nausea churned within.

Hold it. Vomit later.

“We volunteer at nearby orphanages, nursing homes, and animal shelters. Next weekend, the youth group is visiting Sarangwon. If you’re free, why not join us?”

“Let me know the time, and I’ll be there.”

“No need for that—we’re taking a van from here. Just come to the church.”

“I have work on Sundays. I’ll join you there instead.”

With a smile that etched wrinkles around his eyes, Jang Joontae pulled a pen and paper from his pocket.

“Sarangwon is just a short bus ride from here. The time, here—11 a.m.”

He handed Han Naeyung a note with directions, times, and a phone number. Unable to bear the stench, Han Naeyung exhaled softly through slightly parted lips.

“You’ll see how lovable the children are when you visit. Then you’ll understand the true joy of volunteering.”

The man’s voice from the past echoed vividly in his ears.

“I just can’t understand guys who get turned on by kids. Though, it does make for a lucrative business.”

Han Naeyung clenched his fist, resisting the urge to stab the smiling man in the neck with the pen. The chill of that thought sent a shiver through him. He stuffed the note and coffee into his pocket, fists tightening.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

The goal was to find a weak spot in this man while revealing none of his own. Han Naeyung silently repeated that to himself.

“I’m just looking forward to the volunteering.”

Feigning calm, he delivered the lie with ease. He had managed to remain inconspicuous even during his school years, despite avoiding contact with others. The trick had always been simple—endure. Just like now.

“Brother.”

“Yes, evangelist?”

“No sin is beyond forgiveness, right? Will God truly forgive anything?”

“If the repentance is sincere, no sin is unforgivable.”

“I see.”

Feeling a tightness in his throat, Han Naeyung cleared it with a cough.

“Well then, I’ll see you next week.”

When Han Naeyung greeted him, Jang Joontae raised his hand, missing its pinky finger, and waved. He quickly descended the stairs. Only after stepping outside did he exhale the breath that had been trapped in his chest. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he unfolded the piece of paper to confirm its contents.

Sarangwon.

Perhaps Jang Joontae was using volunteer work as a pretext to seek out new victims. Han Naeyung strode forward, his steps brisk. It felt as though thousands of ants were crawling all over his body. The breaths and gazes of people around him clung to him like filth. He needed to redirect his thoughts—anything to distract himself.

“I’m allowed to touch you.”

The memory of a hand gripping his waist and another clutching his thigh resurfaced. It didn’t bother him one bit. His mind went blank, wiping away every trace of the harrowing nightmares of the past. As he recalled the roughness of that person invading his being, an inexplicable sense of relief washed over him.

Sitting on the bus, Han Naeyung stared blankly out the window. He purposely transferred buses several times and got off two stops before his destination. He tossed the can of coffee into a trash bin at the stop.

Han Naeyung had always wondered: how far could human depravity go? The people who had entrapped Jaemin and him, ultimately driving his brother to his death, were no different from monsters. Those who had thrown Nari into a dogfighting ring and pushed his brother to his end—all of them were human.

Sympathy, compassion, guilt. Was the lack of these emotions what led people to commit such heinous crimes? If that were true, then what about those who judged these criminals in the name of justice?

“You smell nice, mister.”

“Nice smell?”

“People have their own scents.”

“You mean like perfume?”

“I don’t know. It’s just different.”

“Do you know how many kids are here?”

“I saw a few, but they’re in separate rooms. There used to be an older girl in my room, but I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“In the basement?”

“I think so.”

The man who had approached him a couple of times never laid a hand on him or caused him pain. Instead, he only asked questions—ones difficult for a child to answer—about the others managing the cages and the situation inside.

At the time, Han Naeyung didn’t understand. He didn’t know that the man was a police officer conducting an undercover operation. Nor did he understand why the criminals hadn’t been arrested immediately—something he learned later during a court hearing.

“It appears that you visited the site four times, Detective Cho. Witness, do you recognize this man?”

“…Yes.”

“Did this person ever harm you or touch you inappropriately?”

“…No.”

The judge, his voice stiff, asked questions, but his face twisted with visible frustration.

“Detective Cho, why did you not take immediate action? The late victim, Jeong Jaemin, could have survived.”

“It was an undercover operation, Your Honor. We needed conclusive evidence. Moving prematurely could have led the perpetrators to flee, taking the children and women with them. To apprehend the entire network, sacrifices were inevitable.”

“How can you refer to the death of a child as a mere ‘sacrifice’? And this incident happened in the same room you were in.”

“It happened so quickly that we couldn’t intervene in time. It was an unforeseen event.”

“Lies…!”

“Witness, remain silent. You are not permitted to speak.”

“He said it! That man said it was better this way, that he could claim more credit for it.”

“Witness, is your claim true?”

“Your Honor, the witness is only nine years old. Their memories of the incident may be distorted.”

Distorted? He didn’t even know what the word meant, only that it was another way to dismiss him. He looked up at the judge, the middle one of three, whose furrowed brow revealed his torment.

“Is the witness’s statement credible?”

“…I didn’t lie. I don’t lie.”

The man with the “nice smell” glared at the child in the witness box, his face breaking into a disbelieving smile. He seemed to find it absurd that the boy dared to speak against him.

“Without our investigation team, the witness and the other victims would still be suffering.”

“And yet your team failed to collaborate with the child welfare investigative unit.”

“That’s because—”

“Enough. Witness, you may step down.”

The boy clung to the judge with his gaze, pleading desperately.

What about the bad people? What’s going to happen to them? Jaemin is dead. Why didn’t you punish the bad people sooner? I’m not lying.

But the judge in the center, Han Sungwon, only turned to address the next witness.

Staggering, Han Naeyung halted for a moment, covering his eyes. The soft texture of his gloves pressed against his eyelids. Jaemin’s face and voice were now blurry, but the memories he wanted to forget remained crystal clear.

The hands that had restrained his small arms and legs, the weight that had pressed down on his body—all of it lingered, frozen in a corner of his mind. Even after cutting out Lee Kyungchul’s tongue, he felt no relief. Perhaps because one more still remained.

Lowering his hands, he steadied his steps. Nearing the hospital, he saw a man leaning against a car in the distance. He checked his phone before crossing his arms, lightly tapping his arm with gloved fingers as if anxious.

Hearing the faint sound of footsteps, Jin turned his head toward Han Naeyung.

“Where are you coming from?”

Jin uncrossed his arms and stepped closer. In Han Naeyung’s pocket, the thin piece of paper felt unbearably heavy.

“Just… a walk.”

“Dr. Han’s walks take two hours, it seems.”

Though Jin’s words hinted at the wait, his tone was free of complaint.

“Is something the matter?”

Han Naeyung peeked over his shoulder into the car. Nari was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve seen your face, and that’s enough.”

That’s all I came for.

Jin said this. He had often stopped by—sometimes under the pretense of just wanting to see Han Naeyung, and other times, fabricating excuses about something being wrong with Nari’s otherwise perfect health.

“But, Dr. Han,”

“Yes?”

“The police came to the hospital recently, didn’t they?”

“……”

That hadn’t happened. There had been a day when the precinct called, though.

“I did receive a call. They mentioned… an incident.”

It had been an inquiry into the use records of euthanasia injections. Han Naeyung had attached a copy of the requested documents via fax, and there had been no further contact afterward.

“I’m a witness for you in that case, Dr. Han, so don’t worry too much.”

Jin said it casually.

“Now, let me see your hand.”

Without hesitation, Han Naeyung extended his hand toward him. From Jin’s leather glove, a handful of candies tumbled out.

“What is all this…?”

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

“……”

“I like strawberry, personally.”

Han Naeyung stared at the brightly colored candies before looking up at Jin.

“You once asked me if I liked sweets, didn’t you? Somehow, I figured Dr. Han might.”

Jin leaned in closer, lowering his head as if studying Naeyung’s face, his eyes crinkling slightly. Han Naeyung picked up a candy wrapped in red foil and murmured:

“I like strawberry too.”

It was Jaemin’s favorite flavor. Perhaps because their shared life had once split into two. Naeyung had always loved strawberries the most but had consistently yielded them to Jaemin.

Han Naeyung unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth. Unlike the chilly weather, the candy was sticky. The sweet yet tangy flavor reminded him of how much he used to crave and desire it. Even after yielding it to Jaemin, he had satisfied himself by simply savoring the sweet scent.

“I should get going now.”

Jin silenced his ringing phone and stood up. As Han Naeyung watched his breath cloud in the cold air, he spoke:

“Prosecutor… do you trust me?”

Prosecutor Jin, are you different from the other judges of the law? The question he truly wanted to ask remained unspoken.

“Are you asking about that case?”

“…Yes.”

The police had only requested records related to the use of euthanasia drugs, so he didn’t know the specifics of the incident. Still, Han Naeyung lied.

“Hmm, on the day you administered the euthanasia drug, do you know what your expression looked like, Dr. Han?”

“……”

Han Naeyung’s face darkened abruptly. Letting someone die in pain or helping them pass more peacefully—there was no correct answer to that choice.

The medical theory behind euthanasia drugs ensured a painless death. But that knowledge belonged to the living. No one truly knew if the animals subjected to euthanasia passed peacefully because no one had experienced it firsthand.

“Even now, Dr. Han’s face insists you’re innocent.”

Jin said this before heading to the driver’s seat, promising they’d see each other again soon.

As the car engine hummed, Han Naeyung stood in thought. Could there have been a case where someone used an animal euthanasia drug to kill a person?

A candy cracked against his teeth, splitting in two. As his tongue passed over the fractured edge, a metallic taste seeped out.

* * *

“These days, Nari’s father seems quite busy.”

Lee Seolhwa spoke as she unpacked the portable case she had ordered. Dragging a large bag of dog food into the corner, Han Naeyung finally caught his breath. Excluding medications, the animal hospital ordered food and pet supplies once a week.

“Doctor, I told you I’d handle that.”

At her words, Han Naeyung stepped back.

“Putting it here will make it hard to move around.”

When he tried to place it on the other side, she quickly lifted the bag of food instead.

“Then let me—”

“Honestly, Doctor, you’re all height and no strength. What am I supposed to do with you?”

Seolhwa was the type to use efficiency over brute force. Though her appearance might not suggest it, she was an amateur kickboxing athlete. She had kept her hair short for the sole reason that long hair was inconvenient.

“What were we talking about earlier?”

Dusting her hands off after setting down the bag, she tilted her head.

“They say even young people are having memory issues these days. Maybe I should get a brain scan too. I’m always forgetting to turn off my curling iron.”

“…We were talking about Nari’s father.”

“Oh, right! That was it. He used to bring Nari in all the time, even though the dog wasn’t sick. Now, he’s completely stopped coming.”

“That’s true.”

Maybe he’s given up. Muttering this, Han Naeyung found himself experiencing mixed feelings. Of course, he wanted Jin to give up. Truthfully, he had always felt uneasy about Jin’s visits.

“And from now on, I’m thinking of taking Sundays off for a while.”

Sundays were the days Lee Seolhwa didn’t work. Han Naeyung only had every other Sunday off—two days a month.

“Please send out a notice in advance.”

Lee Seolhwa looked at him with a puzzled expression, surprised to see someone as workaholic as him make such a request. Then, as if something had dawned on her, she clapped her hands.

“Don’t tell me—our head doctor’s started seeing someone?”

She jumped to conclusions, congratulating him in advance.

“…No.”

“Then why all of a sudden?”

Lee Seolhwa followed him persistently into the exam room. It wasn’t something he particularly needed to hide.

“I’m thinking of volunteering for a while.”

“With Nari’s dad?”

Han Naeyung couldn’t understand why Jin was mentioned here. He gave her a questioning look, and she blinked in response.

“Is that not it?”

“…It’s not.”

“I thought Nari’s dad might be getting into animal welfare, considering he rescued Nari from a dogfighting ring. I figured he might invite you to join him.”

Though Jin kept Nari with him, he didn’t come across as an animal lover. Without a word, Han Naeyung tidied up the exam table.

“Nari’s dad is incredibly handsome, isn’t he? At first, I thought he was coming here to see me, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

Despite her words, she didn’t seem particularly disappointed.

“Maybe he’s coming to see you, Doctor.”

She threw the suggestion out casually.

“I am a veterinarian.”

“He comes even when Nari isn’t around, or makes excuses about Nari being unwell when the dog is perfectly fine.”

With a sly smile, she left the exam room.

The recent drop in temperatures seemed to have passed, and fewer animals were visiting the hospital. Being a small clinic, pets requiring surgeries were often sent to larger facilities. Despite investing heavily in state-of-the-art equipment, visitors couldn’t be expected to know that.

11 a.m.

Han Naeyung checked the time marked on the calendar for Sunday. He decided taking the bus would be better than driving his car.

With a quiet scrape, he pulled open the drawer beneath the exam table. Inside were a rolling pen, some notes, and candies lying there. Of the nearly ten candies he had received, only the strawberry ones remained. He let out a bitter laugh.

The old habit still lingered—saving his favorite for last to give to Jaemin.

Han Naeyung removed his gloves and unwrapped the candy carefully. Come to think of it, this was the kind of fruit-flavored hard candy that had become rare to find these days. Where on earth had he gotten it? Small local stores had long since disappeared, and children rarely bought cheap snacks anymore.

He was an odd man—sometimes smiling deeply, sometimes watching with concern. At other times, he acted as though he were engaging in psychological games or legal arguments. Conversations with others always felt tense, yet Jin’s breath had a peculiar effect that made it easier to talk to him than to others.

There had been people who approached him warmly, only to give up and walk away soon after. Jin would probably end up being just another one of them.

The candy Jin had given him was still sweet.

* * *

Whirr, whirr.

Han Naeyung sat on a round stool, watching a blanket spin in the drum washing machine. As he stared, the monotonous movement made him feel drowsy, and the tension in his eyes relaxed.

The church youth group consisted of 20 members, with eight, including Han Naeyung, participating in the orphanage volunteer activity. Two were on kitchen duty, two handled cleaning the building, and three were tasked with taking care of the children. Laundry duty fell to Han Naeyung. Since the tasks were chosen on a first-come, first-served basis, he had ended up with the one left over.

“It must be cold—why don’t you put on something warmer?”

The orphanage director entered the laundry room, prompting Han Naeyung to rise from the stool. His fingers were bright red, likely from hand-washing denim fabric.

“I’m fine.”

He pulled on the gloves he had kept in his pocket. The soft cotton gloves soothed his overworked hands.

“You’re a new face, yet you’re so enthusiastic. We’re very grateful.”

The director’s gentle demeanor was as warm as his kind expression.

“It’s nothing.”