BITM Ch20

“If a child Chief knows… were forced into something like that by someone, how do you think you would feel?”

“……”

Seon Wookjae completed a missing piece of the puzzle through Jin’s words. It seemed Jin knew the victims of the very first case Wookjae had handled. Thinking back, the timeline matched, and they were of a similar age. If those children had grown up properly, they might have turned out like Jin…

“If it’s just a hypothetical scenario, it doesn’t provoke much thought. But if it were the children around me—of course, this is assuming such a thing could never happen.”

Even though the situation was purely speculative, it made him uneasy to speak of it. Still, Seon Wookjae voiced his thoughts.

“I’d want to kill the person responsible. I’d make living unbearable for them. I might even use every bit of knowledge I have to commit the perfect crime.”

Seon Wookjae scratched the back of his head. Jin stared out the car window at the late-night city lights as they sped along the road. The glowing streetlights and sparkling neon signs did nothing to distract him. Blinded by the fury and guilt welling up in his throat, he could see nothing clearly.

The perfect crime…

Jin murmured the phrase to himself, closing his eyes briefly.

* * *

“Why are you so pretty?”

“Gyo Jin Hyung, you’re weird. Hyung and I look exactly the same, but you always say only Hyung is pretty.”

“You do look alike, but Woomin is prettier.”

“No way! Hyung is mine!”

Jaemin repeated a line he’d heard in a drama, not knowing what it truly meant. He grabbed Woomin’s arm to pull him away from Gyo Jin Hyung. The force of it caused Woomin to topple forward with a thud.

Panicking, Jaemin called out, “Hyung! Hyung!” as he fretted over him. Gyo Jin chuckled at the two adorable children and quickly lifted the fallen Woomin. Blood trickled down from Woomin’s nose, pooling below his blankly staring eyes.

“Ahh! Hyung, you’ve got a nosebleed! It’s not my fault! It’s Gyo Jin Hyung’s fault! I hate you! If Hyung hates me because he’s hurt, it’s your fault!”

Jaemin wailed as he ran inside the building. Woomin wiped his nose with his sleeve and said, “I’m fine.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t a serious injury; a single wipe stopped the bleeding. Gyo Jin examined Woomin’s small nose with concern. Meanwhile, Woomin’s gaze shifted over Gyo Jin’s shoulder to the azalea field of the orphanage behind them. Jin’s eyes naturally followed.

“You’ve been staring at it often. Do you like those flowers?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty and smell nice.”

Woomin approached the flowers. Gyo Jin followed and sniffed them, tilting his head curiously.

“They don’t really smell like much.”

“That’s why I like them. They have a pretty smell.”

“Maybe you’ve got a super nose, Woomin.”

“Maybe. Hyung and Jaemin smell like candy.”

“Really?”

Gyo Jin sniffed his arm while Woomin leaned close and inhaled near Gyo Jin’s face. Gyo Jin, noticing Woomin’s finely curled lashes up close, suddenly felt his body heat up.

He thought it was because Woomin was just too cute and pretty. Unable to resist, Gyo Jin planted a quick kiss on Woomin’s cheek. Woomin blinked his wide eyes in surprise.

“Sorry, you’re just so cute.”

“Hyung is cuter.”

Despite being taller than most kids his age, Gyo Jin had a delicate and pretty appearance. Seeing that Woomin didn’t seem to dislike it, he leaned in to kiss the other cheek when a loud voice interrupted them.

“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t kiss my Hyung!”

Jaemin came running, clutching Woomin tightly, his eyes blazing. Gyo Jin playfully flicked Jaemin’s nose. Though the two looked so alike, it amazed Gyo Jin that he never mixed them up.

“At least the people who wanted to take you two separately gave up.”

“Yeah, because Jaemin cried so much.”

“See, you’re a crybaby,” Woomin said with a small laugh.

“But someone else might come again. They said it might happen before winter’s over.”

“The director is mean. He keeps trying to separate Hyung and me. Waaah.”

“Don’t cry; it’s not like you’re being separated now.”

Gyo Jin wiped Jaemin’s tear-and-snot-streaked face. Meanwhile, a trickle of blood flowed from Woomin’s nose again. Gyo Jin carefully touched Woomin’s baby-soft nasal lining. He wanted to kiss Woomin’s cheek again but gave up under Jaemin’s relentless watch.

The jelly-like softness of Woomin’s cheek lingered long on Gyo Jin’s lips.

* * *

Jin stretched his stiff back. He must have fallen asleep sitting up because his whole body felt heavy. To make matters worse, Nari was perched on his lap. He lifted her and set her down on the bed. Relaxed in sleep, her fur felt as soft as the children’s cheeks.

He’d had a nostalgic dream. Though he’d longed to see them before, they hadn’t appeared even in his dreams until recently. And though he’d never confessed it, Woomin had been Jin’s first love.

The dreams started recurring, likely after meeting Han Naeyung. Her calm demeanor and occasional small smile reminded him of Woomin.

Jin shook off the fatigue with a cold shower. Afterward, as he looked into the mirror, he thought about how much he had changed. His build had filled out during adolescence, and the once-pretty face had matured into that of a man. Woomin must have changed a lot too. If they passed each other on the street, they might not even recognize one another.

Jin wiped the mirror with his wet hand. As he towel-dried his hair and stepped out, Nari, now awake, darted around the living room like a hyperactive child. He snatched a tissue box from her mouth and searched for his phone.

Even after finding it, he hesitated for a long time before pressing the call button. Han Naeyung’s words not to contact her until he was ready echoed in his mind. Still, a phone call should be fine, right? Jin finally pressed the button.

“Doctor Han, answer,” he muttered to himself as the line rang.

“I really want to hear your voice right now, Doctor Han.”

There was a small click, right after Jin’s words.

— …Yes.

Jin pressed the phone close to his ear and sank into the sofa. Even though it was just one word, hearing Han Naeyung’s voice felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Were you sleeping?”

— No.

“It’s only six. Are you up already?”

— …Yes.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

— I slept a little.

“Still, it’s nice hearing your voice, Doctor Han.”

— Prosecutor… your voice is…

“Ah, it’s a bit rough, isn’t it? I just woke up.”

Though you’re so close, why is it so hard to see you? Even if I find Woomin, what excuse would I have to meet him?

Jin pressed the phone against his cheek, as though it were Han Naeyung himself. The warmth of the device felt real.

“Can I come see you today?”

— I’ll call you.

“I have something to confess.”

— …

“The bottle of pills that fell on the sofa—I took it. It’d be a problem if it went missing, wouldn’t it? Have you looked for it?”

— I knew… you had it.

“So, you were just organizing the meds?”

— …Yes.

Not being able to see his face, Jin couldn’t tell whether it was the truth or a lie. Even as unease prickled his fingertips, he chose to trust Han Naeyung.

“I have to get to work now. I’ll call you again later.”

Han Naeyung quietly responded, “Take care.” Jin ended the call, pressing the edge of the phone to his forehead. After a few moments, he finally connected a call to Seon Wookjae.

— Prosecutor, is something wrong?

Knowing it was just before work hours, Seon Wookjae sounded concerned.

“I have a personal favor to ask.”

— Of course. Whatever you need.

“I need someone to keep an eye on someone for a while.”

— Since it’s a personal matter, should I ask Detective Jo?

Detective Jo was a private investigator Seon Wookjae often hired.

“Yes, I’ll send you the address in a text.”

— I’ll wait for it then.

“And I’ll be late to work today. There’s somewhere I need to go.”

— …Should I come with you?

“No, I’ll go alone.”

It seemed Seon Wookjae already had an idea of where Jin was heading. His destination was in an email sent by Chief Jo early that morning: Cheongram Children’s Center, a small shelter on the outskirts of the city.

As Jin dressed, he attached the address in a text to Seon Wookjae. The name of the person to be monitored: Han Naeyung.

* * *

Han Sungwon sat on the terrace, sipping coffee. The lawn in the garden looked lush and green, as though it had forgotten yesterday’s chill. Papers on the table fluttered in the breeze, and he pressed them down with his wrinkled hand.

His wife approached with a tray of freshly baked bread, fanning the aroma toward him teasingly.

“Honey, don’t you have something to confess?”

Her tone made it clear: no confession, no bread. Han Sungwon placed his newspaper atop the documents.

“I confessed 31 years ago, didn’t I?”

“I’m not talking about your proposal!”

She sat down across from him.

“You saw Naeyung recently, didn’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t know? I’ve been waiting to see when you’d bring it up, but it seems you weren’t planning to.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

When Han Sungwon reached for the bread, she slapped his hand away.

“I saw the card charge—right near Naeyung’s hospital, no less.”

“Ah, I see the notification came through.”

Han Sungwon nodded reluctantly.

“Just like you guessed, I saw Naeyung and then had a coffee alone afterward.”

“Why are you like this? You glare at me like a goblin if I even suggest coming along, but it’s fine for you to go alone? What’s so bad about letting me see our son? Why are you so cold?”

Han Sungwon simply smiled softly. Ignorance is bliss. He intended to keep Han Naeyung’s past a secret from his wife until his dying day. It was the best for everyone.

“What are you smiling about? You’re lucky I still tolerate you. If you’re going to stay home, why don’t you open a law office or something?”

“It’s not the right time yet.”

“There’s a right time for work now?”

“There is.”

He took another sip of his coffee.

“I’d rather just relax until the day I die.”

“How can someone who used to be so obsessed with work change this much? I don’t know, go ahead and live as an old bum to your heart’s content.”

She took the tray, leaving behind only a single lemon scone. Han Sungwon picked up the warm scone and split it in half. Only after hearing the front door close did he set aside the newspaper.

It was a report he received every three months, even as a retired chief judge. Han Sungwon kept tabs on the whereabouts and updates of everyone involved in a case from 20 years ago. However, one person remained elusive: Jang Seongjun, one of the primary offenders.

Jang Seongjun had served time for a prostitution case, followed by five years for attempted murder. Since then, he seemed to have been drifting from place to place.

“Lee Kyungchul is dead… and so is Song Iljae.”

Han Sungwon adjusted his magnifying glasses. The attempted murder charge Jang Seongjun served was heavily influenced by claims of self-defense.

The victim, stabbed by Jang Seongjun, was a mid-level gang leader. The gang had targeted Jang as an example when he tried to leave their organization. In retaliation, Jang killed the leader during their confrontation. He had also lost a finger in that incident.

“Jang Seongjun…”

Han Sungwon wrote the name on a sheet of paper where he had meticulously organized details of the case.

Tongues cut from corpses, murders committed with euthanasia drugs… This wasn’t merely gang-on-gang violence. Han Sungwon was weaving all the threads together, and they converged on one point: Han Naeyung.

He dropped the pen. A part of him desperately hoped it wasn’t true—that it was a mere coincidence, and his son, Han Naeyung, had nothing to do with it.

Han Sungwon prayed he wouldn’t have to return to the frontlines. If Han Naeyung had sought revenge, his sole duty would be to defend the life he had failed to protect that day: Jung Woomin.

Though he had once found the preferential treatment of retired judges distasteful, he now saw it as a blessing. Life was full of contradictions. He would use every means necessary, no matter how dirty, to ensure salvation.

To kill someone who deserved it and still be punished—such justice was far too cruel. Setting aside his judge’s impartiality, Han Sungwon had become a simple parent. No matter what, he would protect his child.

* * *

Tidying up was both the beginning and the end.

Han Naeyung hung his winter coat and sweater neatly in the closet, pulling down his mask. The warmth of sunlight streaming through the window and the gentle air signaled the arrival of spring.

A season of beginnings—and perhaps, the last season he would witness from here. He approached the window.

When he was very young, on days like this, he would roll around the orphanage yard with Jaemin, while Hyung watched them fondly. They needed no one else; just the three of them were enough for happiness.

Not wanting parents who would tear them apart, he had nodded when Jaemin suggested they run away. At just nine years old, he couldn’t have understood the consequences.

Impulsively, they climbed the orphanage wall, only to find themselves in a living hell. After being locked in a cage, Jaemin asked,

“What do you think happened to Hyung? Do you think he ended up here too?”

Woomin had clamped a hand over Jaemin’s mouth.

“Never say anything. If they find out we were with Hyung, they’ll drag him here too.”

The thought terrified them. To mention Hyung was to risk him being taken as well.

One day, a fleeting thought crossed Naeyung’s mind: If Hyung were here with us, would it have been better? Maybe Jaemin and I would have had someone to lean on.

Even as a child, he knew how shameful that thought was. So he resolved to forget. Thinking about it only brought tears and more sorrow.

He repeated to himself, Forget, forget. Eventually, he even forgot Hyung’s face. All that remained was the memory of his kind smile and the sweet scent of candy.

Standing by the window, Han Naeyung lowered his head against the glare of the sunlight.

There was one pill bottle left on the table. Jin had taken one, but Han Naeyung wasn’t afraid of being caught. In the end, Jin might guide him, just as everything came to a close. Before stepping onto the scales of Dike’s justice…

Han Naeyung clutched his phone tightly. Jin had loved him as they did—letting him freely savor the warmth of another’s skin, a comfort he could never fully reach in life. Recalling Jin’s warmth made his eyes burn. His uncontrollable hand moved toward Jin’s voice.

Don’t answer, he silently pleaded.

— You answered.

Jin’s voice, slightly rough, came through the line.

— I was just thinking about how I wanted to hear Doctor Han’s voice, and you called. What a surprise.

A car horn blared loudly.

“Are you in the car?”

— Yes, I’m on my way back from somewhere.

“Then let’s talk later.”

— Don’t hang up. You must have called for a reason.

There was no reason. He had just wanted to hear Jin’s voice.

“I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

He could sense Jin’s flustered reaction. Jin cleared his throat and asked,

— Did you stay in all day again?

“Yes.”

— At home all day, not even opening the clinic?

“I’m on vacation.”

A very long vacation.

— You’ll see me before your vacation ends, won’t you?

“…”

Han Naeyung stared at the pill bottle and said,

“I’ll call you again.”

He ended the call and gripped the phone with both hands before collapsing onto the bed.

Chronic insomnia had kept him awake last night. He hadn’t even gone to get a prescription for sleeping pills, simply staring with hollow eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

When he first fell asleep in his arms, he thought it was because of the alcohol. But by the second time, he realized: his warmth could erase even insomnia.

He knew better than anyone why he suffered from insomnia. It was because he was afraid to sleep alone. His heavy eyelids gradually sank as he struggled to stay awake.

As if waiting for the moment, memories from the past began to creep up his body. The stench of terrifying people, a moldy room, a thin blade, Jaemin’s screams… Han Naeyung—and Jung Woomin—curled up tightly.

Tonight, he desperately wished for no dreams at all, or if he did dream, for them to be the kind that would fade into oblivion upon waking, rather than dreadful nightmares.

* * *

“We don’t normally share this kind of information, but since you even brought a warrant, I’ll make an exception just this once.”

Jin, fabricating a non-existent case, managed to access adoption records at the children’s center. Everything had been anonymized, and with great effort, he could only obtain the address of the adoption location at the time.

It was a high-end residential complex he had heard of many times before. Jin headed straight to the apartment, only to find that the current resident was a tenant. The wary tenant finally provided some information after Jin flashed his prosecutor’s badge.

The property owner had rented it out years ago and moved to the outskirts of the city. Jin obtained the new address and returned to work, where his phone had been ringing non-stop. He arrived late, only to endure an hour-long scolding from his senior prosecutor.

He intended to visit after work, but between the workload and his nerves, he hesitated. What face could he possibly show Woomin now? If he was living well, that was all Jin could hope for. Even if he had been adopted into a wealthy family, it wouldn’t erase the pain Woomin had endured.

By the time Jin left the prosecutor’s office, it was already 1 a.m. Almost out of habit, he drove toward Han Naeyung’s veterinary clinic. As he slowed near the clinic and glanced up at the second floor, the lights were off again, as usual.

From 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., he had someone keeping an eye on Han Naeyung’s whereabouts. The report always ended with the same conclusion: he never stepped outside.

Jin extinguished his cigarette and rolled down the window. Even the night air felt suffocating, thick with fine dust. Despite the warming weather, traces of winter lingered in the early morning chill.

Just as he was about to roll the window back up, he frowned. Someone up ahead was staggering barefoot, dressed in just a shirt and trousers. Drunk, perhaps? Given the time, it wouldn’t be surprising. Yet something about it unsettled him.

Jin pulled his car closer, keeping pace with the staggering figure. Upon recognizing the face, he leaped out of the car.

“Doctor Han!”

The blaring of a horn behind him drowned out his shout. Jin sprinted toward Han Naeyung, who didn’t even turn around, and grabbed his arm. Something slipped from Naeyung’s pocket as Jin caught his hand. A sharp, silver object clattered to the ground.

This… This was something Han Naeyung shouldn’t have. Not at this hour, not in his condition. Jin hurriedly pocketed the scalpel, then stopped Han Naeyung, who was dazedly trying to walk past him.

“Dr. Han.”

Han Naeyung’s unfocused gaze drooped. Jin cupped Naeyung’s icy face, gently but firmly.

“Look at me, Doctor Han.”

Blood trickled from Han Naeyung’s foot, likely cut by glass shards. Jin’s brow furrowed deeply. He turned Naeyung’s face toward his own, forcing their eyes to meet. Slowly, the haze cleared from Naeyung’s dazed eyes.

“Jin… Prosecutor?” Naeyung murmured in confusion.

Then, his legs buckled, and he collapsed.

* * *

How is he so light? I’m not even sure if all his organs are intact.

Jin thought as he adjusted Han Naeyung on his back. He entered the apartment after punching in the passcode, greeted by Nari panting and circling the entrance.

When Nari noticed Han Naeyung slung over Jin’s back, her eyes widened like never before. Her already slit-like pupils stretched into something almost grotesque. Jin carefully laid Han Naeyung on the bed, then fetched a damp towel and a first aid kit, seating himself at the edge of the mattress.

Glass shards had lodged in Naeyung’s soles, likely from walking barefoot after stepping on broken glass. Jin glanced at Naeyung’s unconscious form before using tweezers to remove the dull fragments. As he cleaned the wound with antiseptic, a faint groan emerged—not from Naeyung, but from Nari.

Jin patted Nari’s head and applied ointment to Naeyung’s feet, then wrapped them in bandages. Only after finishing the makeshift treatment did he let out a long sigh.

Sleepwalking, maybe? His gaze wandered to Naeyung’s coat pocket, recalling the scalpel. Sleepwalking or not, carrying such an object around at this hour was alarming. Jin looked at Han Naeyung’s worn-out face.

“…What’s going on with you? Why are you like this?”

He muttered while brushing Naeyung’s dark hair away from his forehead. Nestled in the blanket, Naeyung slowly opened his eyes.

“Awake?” Jin asked.

Naeyung curled up slightly, murmuring faintly, “My back… hurts.”

His eyes were still glazed with drowsiness. Jin slipped a hand under the blanket and gently rubbed Naeyung’s back. Naeyung blinked up at him, then smiled lazily, almost playfully.

“You smell nice…”

It was the kind of endearing smile Jin had seen before—one that could drive him to the brink of madness with its sweetness. His hand trembled slightly as he smoothed Naeyung’s back. Unable to resist, he leaned his forehead against Naeyung’s, closing his eyes.

He wanted to shake him awake and demand an explanation for the scalpel—what it was for, and whether he intended to harm anyone. No, he wanted to hear it was nothing, just his imagination running wild.

The simplest answer is often the correct one.

Why was that phrase suddenly in his mind? It was a basic principle of criminal investigation he’d heard repeatedly since his training days. Every time his intuition flared, it was invariably followed by a case.

He had dismissed the alarm bells he felt around Han Naeyung as mere infatuation. But the tide of certainty now rising within him felt like a tsunami, reminiscent of the late Yoo Jihyung case.

Jin pulled back to study Han Naeyung’s face. His long lashes were damp. Jin gently traced a finger along Naeyung’s tear-streaked cheek before getting up. He retrieved the scalpel from the coat pocket and locked it in an empty drawer of the desk. Then he reached for his phone and began typing a message.