BITM Ch22

“I… I came here because…”

Jin began to speak, but then fell silent.

One of the many empty links was now connecting to the truth. The judge presiding over the prostitution case, Han Sungwon, was Woomin’s adoptive father. The deep waters that hid Woomin were Han Sungwon.

Han Sungwon’s smile froze at the sight of Jin’s stiff face. It was because of the Jin situation he had overlooked. In hindsight, this young man wasn’t someone who would come to greet him. Moreover, seeing Jin slowly becoming more rigid, Han Sungwon instinctively sensed that something was wrong.

“So, where are you working now?”

Jin, in turn, sensed Han Sungwon’s unease.

“I’m working at the Southern District Prosecutor’s Office.”

At Jin’s answer, Han Sungwon’s mind stumbled. That was the jurisdiction for the Lee Kyungchul and Song Iljae murder cases. Their eyes met, feigning indifference, but neither side was willing to back down first.

“Didn’t you say earlier that your son is friends with our son? But our son…”

“You stay inside.”

Han Sungwon quickly cut off his wife’s words.

“Why?”

“I said stay inside!”

His wife was startled by his loud command. He had never raised his voice like that before. She clutched her blouse, bewildered. Normally, she would have snapped back at him for raising his voice, but his jaw was trembling uncontrollably.

“Please… please just stay inside.”

Her husband’s pleading made her reluctantly agree.

“Alright, then tell me later.”

Not understanding the reason, she gave him a worried glance as she went inside. As soon as she entered, Han Sungwon turned and looked at Jin with piercing eyes.

Han Sungwon, Woomin’s adoptive father and former Chief Judge of the Seoul High Court. He was a person with more power than many wealthy figures, someone who could bury an entire case with a word. Still, Jin wasn’t sure.

“Prosecutor Jin.”

“Judge, please tell me I’m not thinking what I’m thinking.”

Jin tried to regain his composure, dispelling the confusion.

“How would I know what you’re thinking?”

“I’m handling the Ogeori and mountain corpse cases. Do you know what the common thread is between the victims?”

A crack appeared on Han Sungwon’s face.

“Are you here to ask for advice?”

But the change in his expression was instant. He was a person who had lived by reason, not emotion, for decades. The seasoned former judge showed a stern face.

“Coming here suddenly and speaking nonsense like this, I didn’t know I was dealing with such an arrogant person.”

Han Sungwon, standing firm, was clearly hiding something behind him.

That is…

“I need to meet your son.”

“Are you here with an arrest warrant or something?”

Jin was even more certain of his suspicions from Han Sungwon’s firm attitude.

“I need to see Woomin.”

Han Sungwon’s mask began to crack.

“Who exactly is that?”

“I’m talking about your adopted son, Jung Woomin.”

The anger in Han Sungwon’s face was evident as his mouth tightened.

“Prosecutor Jin, you foolish man. Aren’t you afraid of the backlash?”

Jin had found Woomin despite breaking investigation protocols. If Han Sungwon spoke, the backlash could be severe. But Jin didn’t back down.

The judge of the prostitution case, Han Sungwon, his hidden witness and victim—his adopted son, the deaths of the perpetrators related to the case, and the father trying to cover it all up… Finally, the line had been drawn.

“You think that kid is the criminal?”

Deep lines formed on Han Sungwon’s lips.

“There’s a separate criminal. The outline of the suspect is already clear. So, please retract your pressure.”

“You’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Is this about guilt? You sentenced only 12 years for Hyung, didn’t you? Is that why you brought Woomin here?”

Smack! Han Sungwon slapped Jin’s cheek so hard it echoed. Jin slowly straightened his head, his eyes still calm. But Han Sungwon’s eyes were red and bloodshot.

“If you really care about Woomin, you must not doubt him.”

Then, don’t doubt either. You don’t have the right to. You lost them, it was you. Jin’s inner thoughts stirred.

“Who do you think you are to teach me!”

“I know I have no right to teach you. I lost them. I lost those two, and everything went to ruin. So…”

A sharp breath escaped from Han Sungwon’s mouth. The two of them…

“I need to meet Woomin. I need to apologize to him. Please, let me do that…”

Han Sungwon took a step back.

This wasn’t the performance of a prosecutor investigating a case. Even when he was an intern prosecutor, he had displayed abilities equal to veteran prosecutors. His emotional plea was unfamiliar. Han Sungwon looked into Jin’s red eyes and spoke.

“You… What are you…”

“Please let me meet Jung Woomin.”

Jin bowed his waist and begged. Han Sungwon’s vision darkened.

“No, my son is not Jung Woomin! Prosecutor Jin, you’ve misunderstood.”

Han Sungwon staggered, clutching his chest, and his wife rushed out behind him.

“Honey!”

She supported her husband and glared at Jin with a terrifying gaze.

“What on earth is going on? Why is this person acting like this?”

“Go inside. Go inside… stay there.”

Han Sungwon’s voice was thick with tension. He pushed his wife, but she refused to budge. She only glared at Jin, sensing the danger he posed. Yet Jin couldn’t back down.

“There is something I need to settle with the judge.”

Jin stood firm, even under the intense gaze of his wife.

“Didn’t you say earlier that you know our son? So why are you doing this? Who is this Jung Woomin?”

Jin looked at her, bewildered. Her reaction of not knowing Woomin, her adopted son, wasn’t a lie.

Han Sungwon desperately shook his head at Jin. He hadn’t told his wife about Woomin’s suffering. For both their sakes. That was one of the reasons he had kept Woomin hidden.

“I’ve never heard Naeyung mention a friend named Prosecutor. Are you really friends with our son?”

In that moment, her sharp words struck Jin like a blow. It felt as if the ground beneath him shifted.

“…What?”

A metallic sound escaped Jin’s throat.

“What did you say?”

A ringing noise filled his ears. A sharp needle seemed to prick his fingertips, and hundreds of nails scratched against metal. The horrifying noise made every nerve in his body tense.

“You said you were our son’s friend.”

“…Your son’s name…”

Han Sungwon.

His son, Han Naeyung.

No, this wasn’t right. Jin shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the words spilling out.

“Han Naeyung…”

“What’s the problem?”

Jin smiled as if to scold her, assuring himself that it couldn’t be true. Or he tried to smile, but his face twisted uncontrollably.

“You asked if he was abused. He wasn’t by his parents. But the reason I have a phobia of people, that’s the reason.”

“Prosecutor… do you trust me?”

“There must be a God. He just isn’t on my side.”

Through the ringing in his ears, Han Naeyung’s voice seemed to echo.

Han Naeyung… His name lingered in Jin’s mind. The moment he understood all the facts, it felt as though time had stopped. The air froze, and the world seemed to come to a halt.

“The twin animal hospital. Now that I think about it, that animal hospital has quite a unique name…”

Jin, racking his memory, felt a suffocating pain and a gut-wrenching sensation. Yes, from the moment he met Han Naeyung, his senses had been shouting at him. His instincts had known, but he had failed to realize it himself.

“Why… why is this happening?”

Jin looked up at Han Sungwon with eyes full of disbelief.

“I didn’t know. Even with him so close.”

How could this be? No, how could he not have realized that Jung Woomin and Han Naeyung were the same person?

“Even after losing them, I still didn’t know. I… I didn’t know.”

Jin, in a panic, took out his phone. It slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. He quickly pressed the power button, trying to wake it up. The phone wouldn’t turn on, so he pressed the button harshly, repeatedly. Then, a memory flashed through his mind, and his thoughts froze.

The pentobarbital sodium and the scalpel with Han Naeyung were pointing him in the wrong direction.

“Don’t go anywhere. Just like we promised, I’ll come by. And if things go well… let’s take Nari for a walk tonight.”

He had to go back right now. He needed to feel Han Naeyung’s warmth with Nari. The person he needed to apologize to was in his house, and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time here. He couldn’t lose Woomin again and drop another envelope of pills.

“This time… I won’t be late.”

Muttering to no one in particular, Jin started running. His desperation left the couple speechless. Han Sungwon pulled his wife into his arms, sensing her unease.

Gyo Jin, Gyo Jin…

As Han Sungwon repeated the name, he remembered. On the day he first took Han Naeyung to the counselor, the boy had said this:

“Gyo Jin Hyung must be living well, right? Judge, Gyo Jin Hyung wasn’t really there, was he?”

“Yeah, that kid didn’t exist.”

“That’s a relief.”

The boy had smiled faintly at him before falling asleep, exhausted from crying. How could he have forgotten how his heart had broken from that first smile? Han Sungwon’s eyes filled with regret.

* * *

“Answer. Please pick up!”

Jin gasped for breath, his phone already ringing dozens of times.

Both the phone he had handed over and Han Naeyung’s had only lasted 30 seconds before disconnecting. He slammed the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator, pushing it down fiercely. He had been told Han Naeyung hadn’t moved outside.

Despite this, when he still didn’t answer the phone, Jin ordered Detective Jo to go directly to his house, and after that, hell began. The only trace left by Han Naeyung was a single piece of paper.

Han Naeyung left a message like this and then disappeared, breaking the promise he made with Jin.

I always regret after losing. No, this time I will definitely not be late. If I lose you this time too, I…

Jin immediately headed to Han Naeyung’s animal hospital. Even though it only took 20 minutes to get there, his body was drenched in sweat, as if he had just run a long distance. He rang the bell, but there was no answer.

Jin climbed the stairs to the second floor. He should have forced his way in from the start. When a secret is being kept, he should have made it spit it out forcibly. The act of waiting, thinking he was showing consideration for Han Naeyung, had turned into poison.

Jin rolled his coat in his hand and broke the glass window leading to the stairs. As he climbed through the window, his forearm scraped against the shards, and blood started to flow down.

Looking around the darkened house of Han Naeyung, Jin felt a dizzying vertigo. Was this really a place where someone lived? In the living room, there was only a single armchair. The door facing the chair was firmly shut.

Jin took out his phone again and called Han Naeyung. After still not receiving an answer, he contacted Seon Wookjae.

“Have you tracked the phone’s location?”

Jin pressed the phone against his shoulder as he turned the doorknob. It only made clicking sounds, but the door wouldn’t open.

— It’s currently stopped on an outer road. It seems like the phone was turned off around that area.

“Keep updating and keep looking for it.”

— Yes.

As Jin looked around, he picked up one of Jinyeo’s unique ceramic pieces and flipped it over. A key fell with a clink. Jin opened the door, praying that Han Naeyung would be inside.

The room, surrounded by brand new wallpaper and flooring, had only a large cabinet standing. Jin repeatedly kicked the cabinet until a gap appeared, then reached in and pried it open.

Woomin… Jung Woomin…

At that moment, Jin bit his lip as he stared at the overturned bottle. He tried to reassure himself that it couldn’t be, but the truth he had been denying was right in front of him.

Lee Kyungchul, Jang Seongjun, Song Iljae, Lee Chulwoo.

Jin recalled the names written in the court records, one by one. The only living ones were Jang Seongjun and Lee Chulwoo. And the main culprit was Jang Seongjun.

The tongue fragments floating in formalin spoke for the secrets and intentions that Han Naeyung had been hiding all this time.

“Do you have anything hidden in your house?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to conduct a home search.”

“If you bring a warrant.”

Han Naeyung’s words contained the answer to everything, but Jin, foolishly, hadn’t realized it. Overcome with self-loathing and despair, Jin no longer had the luxury of regretting the past.

He immediately threw the formalin bottle to the floor. With a crash, the tongue fragments rolled across the floor. Jin grabbed them with his bare hands.

Do you even know what you need to do now?

Jin asked himself again.

Even if he had to hand over his Prosecutor badge, he couldn’t leave Han Naeyung alone. Jin wrapped the pitiful fragments in a piece of tissue and shoved them into his pocket. He found some plastic, collected all the glass shards, and cleaned up the wet floor. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

He left the house and immediately picked up his phone again.

“Chief, please send me the exact address where the phone was last located.”

— I’ll attach it now. Also, we’re tracking a suspect in the Ogeori case. This guy is the main perpetrator in the prostitution case, and he’s been using an alias.

Jin paused when he heard this.

“What did you just say?”

— What? You told me to check after work hours.

“No, not that. You said the suspect in the Ogeori murder case is the main culprit in the prostitution case?”

— Yes, it’s Jang Seongjun. He’s using the alias Jang Joontae now. From the looks of things, they probably had a confrontation with Jin. I showed the animal shelter staff a picture of Jang Seongjun. They said he was doing volunteer work under the name Jang Joontae. He was wearing a mask in the CCTV footage, but if not, I would have recognized him right away. Oh, and I’ve just sent the address of the last location.

“Once you locate Jang Seongjun, let me know immediately. Right away.”

— Of course.

Jin hung up the phone and checked the text that had arrived. He got into the driver’s seat, punched the address into the GPS, and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists as his hands trembled. Setting the destination, he opened the glove compartment and unfolded a case file.

“Think. If you were Jung Woomin, where would you have gone?”

Jin focused on the documents.

He alternated between looking at the address of the outer road and the location where Jung Jaemin had fallen to his death. Both places were on the same road. Jin clung to his last hope. If it wasn’t here, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

His fingertips clicked as he put on the leather gloves he always kept in the car. Jin trusted his instincts. He believed Han Naeyung would be there. And the suspect in the Ogeori case was also the target of Han Naeyung.

Jin reset the GPS and sped ahead, overtaking other cars as he raced toward the building. The numbers on the speedometer shot up wildly. Ignoring the traffic lights, the land seemed endless, like someone drowning in water.

Please, please. His hands shook with anxiety as he gripped the wheel so tightly that blisters formed. After quickly leaving the outer road, he soon reached the abandoned building.

The low houses in the area resembled haunted buildings, giving off a sinister vibe. The closer Jin got to his destination, the darker it became. As soon as he saw the abandoned building, he slammed the car to a stop.

There was not a single light on, and darkness seemed to wrap the entire building. He turned on his phone’s flashlight and shone it inside. The sight of piles of garbage made it clear just how long this place had been neglected.

Crisp, the glass shattered underfoot carelessly as Jin climbed the stairs. His destination was the 6th floor.

Please let him be there. Jin ran up the stairs without stopping. He couldn’t afford to stop, not this time. He wouldn’t be late again. He silently prayed to a god he had never believed in.

Even though his heart seemed ready to burst, and a parching dryness clawed at his throat, he didn’t stop. Jin took out his phone to light the way. The building, a former office that had been demolished and rebuilt, now stood with only pillars in place, making the space feel like an open lot.

A cold wind wrapped around him and vanished. Jin ran toward the direction of the wind and soon saw two figures in the large window where the glass had fallen away. He had found them! It wasn’t too late.

Even without turning around, Jin knew Han Naeyung was there. His frail body looked like a burnt-up piece of wood. Jin shouted hoarsely, his throat dry.

“Doctor Han!”

Han Naeyung, who had his back to Jin, flinched.

But he pretended not to hear, grabbing the man and dragging him towards the window. The motion was sluggish, and Jin squinted. The wind suddenly grew stronger.

“Woomin…!”

At Jin’s shout, Han Naeyung froze, as though struck by lightning. Jin called out again, desperately hoping Han Naeyung would turn around this time.

“Jung Woomin!”

Finally, Han Naeyung slowly turned. His face, devoured by the darkness, was hard to make out. But Jin confessed, even though he had never believed in it before—his name that held Jung Woomin’s memory.

“It’s me… Gyo Jin.”

Han Naeyung, holding onto the man, swayed heavily.

* * *

Han Naeyung slowly opened his eyes. He had heard the sound of the front door closing after Jin left. He got up, and Nari, sensing something, whimpered.

Han Naeyung petted Nari’s head and limped out of the bedroom. He noticed a sandwich on the table—probably left by Jin during his busy day. Han Naeyung pulled out a chair and sat down. Nari, like a child who had lost its mother, climbed onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?”

He patted Nari, who was whining in a tone similar to crying. Han Naeyung broke off a piece of the bread, but Nari didn’t eat it. Han Naeyung ate the sandwich, chewing through the dry discomfort in his throat, forcing it down.

Han Naeyung looked down at his bandaged foot. He couldn’t remember how he had met Jin or how he had gotten here. Perhaps he had reached his limit.

After a slow meal, Han Naeyung wiped the plate and cleaned the mug in the sink, putting it away. Nari stayed close to him, following him like a guard dog. He took Nari to its food bowl, and the dog chewed on the kibble, still keeping its eyes on Han Naeyung.

“You’re a good dog. Eating on your own.”

Han Naeyung smiled and praised Nari. Jin had said that while Nari was usually well-behaved, it would make a mess if left alone. Han Naeyung wondered if that were true.

Squatting down, Han Naeyung noticed a tissue box with some tissues sticking out. Maybe it wasn’t a lie after all. He mumbled as he stood up and grabbed a note from the table.

He sat for a moment, holding the pen. If he disappeared without a word, someone would surely come looking for him.

“I’ll go back. Thank you.” He wrote, crumpled the paper, and then took another sheet.

“Don’t look for me or wait until I contact you.”

He pressed his eyes with his hand as he gripped the pen. He had to love in an ordinary way, like any normal person. He had no reason to hold onto a broken version of himself. He had already received more love from his parents and Jin than he deserved. But his heart was too small to discard the hatred within, and he was too weak to confront the past.

His therapist had said he would be more at peace if he tried to erase the parts of him that were broken. But he couldn’t forget Jaemin. Everyone told him to forget, but if he did, all the happy days they had would vanish.

Sometimes, even in a cage, there were moments of happiness. When they hugged and slept together, the moldy walls and cold air didn’t matter. The hippocampus that stored his memories still held all of his memories with Jaemin.

“Hyung, there’s a hippocampus in your brain. Does that mean there are seals and polar bears in your head too? Knock, knock, Hyung, can the polar bear come out now?”

Jaemin’s innocent voice echoed in his memory. Han Naeyung curled up and buried his face in his knees.

The truth was, he wanted to be happy with Jin too. He wanted to sleep peacefully, breathing in Jin’s scent, the one who loved him. But as long as that man was alive, nothing would be solved. If—if—his hands became stained, and he could meet Jin again, would he be able to smile with the secret locked away? If it were possible, he would not fall, like Nemesis beside the Fates. The endurance needed after that would be something he would have to bear alone.

Han Naeyung got up. He took the phone Jin had given him and retrieved slippers from the shoe rack. The bandage on his foot made it fit snugly into one slipper. Standing in the hallway, Han Naeyung glanced around his home. The dog, Nari, grabbed the hem of his pants with its mouth.

Han Naeyung petted Nari’s head.

“Sorry.”

He removed Nari from him and glanced around his home.

And then…

“Sorry.”

For lying.

The door closed, and Nari’s crying echoed in the hallway. It was as if Nari would never see Han Naeyung again, the dog’s sorrowful wail filling the space.

* * *

Han Naeyung injected himself with a sedative. That should be enough to last half a day. He couldn’t find the scalpel he had used earlier, so he opened a new one. He then prepared anesthetic and muscle relaxants, putting on gloves. He locked the door to the clinic.

The front door on the second floor, however, was left ajar. It seemed he had left it open when he left. Han Naeyung slipped off his slippers and entered the house. Everything was in its place, and there were no signs of intrusion.

Han Naeyung changed into something lighter and was about to grab his car keys when Jin’s phone in his pocket vibrated. He sat on the couch, took a deep breath, and answered the call.

“Did you wake up?”

“Yes.”

— Have you eaten?

“I had a sandwich.”

— I’m on my way to the office after lunch. If you’re still hungry, there’s fruit and frozen food in the fridge, so feel free to heat it up.

“Don’t worry.”

He heard someone calling out “Prosecutor” in the background.

— I’ll have to go in now. Nari’s been playing. I’ll call again.

“Okay.”

Han Naeyung ended the call and put Jin’s phone back in his pocket. He had to keep up the illusion that he was still at his house whenever Jin called. After checking the locks on both the first and second floors, Han Naeyung headed to the rear of the building.

He wiped the dust off the car’s windshield, grabbed the steering wheel, and started the engine. Wednesday and Thursday were the days Jang Joontae spent at Sarangwon. By Thursday afternoon, he would be at church until the weekend.

The car’s clock showed 2 PM. Han Naeyung waited for the engine to heat up. Could he really do this? He had failed once before when dealing with Lee Kyungchul.

This would be his last chance. If he missed Jang Joontae now, the man would escape somewhere else, and he would have to start over in his search for him.