BITM Ch26
by soapa“What’s the schedule for today?”
“If we exclude the Ogori case from the off-duty hours, we just have a few minor things.”
“Then let’s wrap up as quickly as possible and head out.”
As Jin lowered the stack of documents, his gaze fell on a passage at the bottom of the page.
The parents request leniency. Despite being born into a wealthy family, the defendant committed theft due to parental neglect, and the victim also desires a settlement.
It was a simple criminal case. As Jin was about to turn the page, one sentence particularly caught his eye.
Born into a wealthy family.
It felt like witnessing a killer whale leaping to the surface. The dark ocean had been concealing the whale as it swam peacefully. But the impact of the whale hitting the surface created a fierce wave, threatening to overturn the boat.
The ocean that had been hiding the whale…
Jin twirled his pen, speculating about the hidden power. The wealthy adoptive parents of Jung Woomin were the kind of people who wouldn’t sell their high-end apartment in Gangnam but would rather lease it out.
No, that couldn’t be. This was a leap. The killer of Lee Kyungchul was definitely Song Il-jae, wasn’t it?
Then what about Song Il-jae? If the suspect caught on the shelter’s CCTV didn’t kill Song Il-jae…
Jin clenched his fist. Two people involved in the prostitution case had died. It felt as if his hands were burning. He needed to meet Woomin. He believed it couldn’t be true but wanted to confirm that Woomin had no connection to the case. But even if Woomin were involved, what could he say? Woomin had every right to punish them.
His phone vibrated, and Jin reached for it. The caller was Detective Cho.
Did not go out. Still at home.
Reading the text, Jin felt a sense of relief.
***
It was a neatly kept house with a well-manicured lawn. In the center of the garden was a swing seat for two, and an orange light illuminated a nearby bench.
Jin fiddled with his phone while sitting in the driver’s seat. Before departing, Detective Cho had reported no movement. Han Naeyung was still at his house.
…Woomin.
Jin muttered quietly as he gazed at the luxurious house through the car window. It had been 30 minutes since he arrived, but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside.
He dialed on his personal phone. He wanted to hear Han Naeyung’s voice. Just as he was about to contact Detective Cho after nearly a minute of ringing, the call was answered.
“Yes.”
Han Naeyung’s voice calmed Jin’s anxious heart.
“What are you doing?”
“Just… staying in.”
The voice was somber. It must be boring to be at home all day.
“I’ll come over right after I finish work.”
“Take your time.”
“Don’t go anywhere. As we promised, wait until I get there. If everything goes well, let’s take Nari for a walk tonight.”
Jin said, looking at the mansion.
“Okay.”
Han Naeyung replied softly as always. Right, nothing unusual. Han Naeyung must be with Nari now. Jin just needed to apologize to Woomin, mourn for Jaemin, and then return to Han Naeyung.
Jin finally steeled himself and got out of the car. He saw a few shadows flickering in the curtained living room. Woomin must be in there.
Could he meet Woomin, who had become a member of a new family, after all these years? It had been 20 years. Maybe this case had nothing to do with Woomin, and he was misinterpreting the situation. His appearance might bring up painful past memories that Woomin didn’t want to remember.
He was torn between meeting him and not. Woomin would have every right to resent him. If he hadn’t lost Woomin and Jaemin, the tragedy wouldn’t have happened.
He had to accept any resentment thrown at him. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He rang the bell, and a melody played. Jin took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Who is it?”
An elderly woman’s voice came through.
“I am…”
Jin swallowed and continued.
“My name is Gyo Jin.”
It was a name he hadn’t said in a long time.
“Excuse me? Gyo Jin? Hold on a moment. Honey, do you know someone named Gyo Jin?”
The woman raised her voice, asking her husband.
“My husband says he doesn’t know anyone by that name. Are you sure you have the right house?”
“I’m an acquaintance of your son.”
“Oh, our son? Please wait a moment.”
The door clicked open immediately. Jin straightened his hair, tousled by the wind, and walked along the stone path to the entrance, shaking off his remaining hesitation.
With each step, it felt like he was being pricked by hundreds of needles. Eventually, the wife and her husband appeared at the entrance.
Jin, who had his head bowed, soon looked at them. He searched for Woomin behind them but couldn’t see him. Was it fortunate or unfortunate not to face him immediately? Jin sighed deeply and looked back at Woomin’s parents.
“And who might you be?”
The man, who appeared to be the father, widened his eyes. Jin’s gaze remained fixed on the man approaching him, as if nailed in place. A scraping noise, like metal against metal, echoed in Jin’s ears. He finally parted his hesitant lips.
“Judge Han Sungwon?”
“Yes, what brings you here?” Han Sungwon responded, equally surprised.
“Honey, do you know this person? You said earlier you didn’t.”
“You said your name was Gyo Jin. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“That’s strange. He definitely said so…” The woman spoke, looking to Jin for agreement.
Orca.
The word floated in his mind, flashing like a red signal.
“When I was still on the front line, this man was an assistant prosecutor for Prosecutor Jang. You know Prosecutor Jang from the Seoul High Court, don’t you?” Han Sungwon directed his gaze at his wife. Still looking puzzled, she nodded slightly, indicating she knew who he was talking about.
“So what brings Prosecutor Jin all the way out here?”
It was unusual for Prosecutor Jin, who worked at the Seoul District Prosecutors’ Office, to come to such a suburban area.
“The reason I am here is…” Jin started to speak but then fell silent.
One of the many empty links in the chain was connecting to the right answer. Judge Han Sungwon, who presided over the prostitution case trial, was the adoptive father of Jung Woomin. Han Sungwon was the deep ocean hiding Jung Woomin.
Han Sungwon’s face, which had been smiling, hardened as he looked at Jin’s stern expression. The truth he had overlooked came to mind. In retrospect, this young man wasn’t close enough to visit him for a social call. Moreover, seeing Jin’s increasingly serious demeanor, Han Sungwon sensed something was wrong.
“Where are you currently working, Prosecutor Jin?” Han Sungwon asked, trying to maintain composure.
“I’m with the Southern District Prosecutors’ Office.”
Han Sungwon felt dizzy at Jin’s reply. This was the jurisdiction handling the murder cases of Lee Kyungchul and Song Il-jae. Jin and Han Sungwon’s eyes met. Both masked their emotions, but neither backed down.
“That person said they were friends with our son. But our son…” the woman began.
“Go inside,” Han Sungwon cut her off quickly.
“Why?” she asked, startled.
“Just go inside!” he shouted.
His wife was taken aback by his sudden outburst. Her husband had never raised his voice, even when angry. She clutched her blouse, shocked. Normally, she would have retorted, asking how he dared to raise his voice at her. But seeing his trembling chin, she relented.
“Please, just go inside,” he pleaded.
“Alright, but explain to me later,” she replied, still worried, as she stepped back inside.
Once his wife had gone, Han Sungwon immediately turned his piercing gaze to Jin.
Han Sungwon, former Chief Judge of the Seoul High Court and adoptive father of Jung Woomin, was more than just a wealthy man; he had enough influence to bury a case. Still, Jin was unsure.
“Prosecutor Jin,” Han Sungwon began.
“Judge, please tell me it’s not what I’m thinking,” Jin said, trying to stay composed.
“How would I know what you’re thinking?” Han Sungwon retorted.
“I’m in charge of the Ogori and the unidentified body in the hills cases. Do you know what the victims have in common?” Jin asked.
A crack appeared on Han Sungwon’s face.
“You didn’t come here for advice, I presume.”
His expression changed instantly. Decades of prioritizing logic over emotion had made him a seasoned judge who could easily feign sternness.
“Coming here and spouting such nonsense—this is the most insolent visit I’ve ever experienced,” he said, standing firm, clearly hiding something.
“Sir, I need to see your son,” Jin insisted.
“Do you have an arrest warrant or something?” Han Sungwon’s aggressive stance only confirmed Jin’s suspicions.
“I need to meet Woomin,” Jin repeated.
A slight flinch cracked Han Sungwon’s stern façade.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Your adoptive son, Jung Woomin,” Jin clarified.
Han Sungwon’s face hardened with rage.
“Prosecutor Jin, you fool. Are you not afraid of backlash?”
Despite risking breaking investigative protocol, Jin had tracked down Woomin. Han Sungwon could cause considerable backlash just by opening his mouth. But Jin didn’t waver.
“You think he’s the perpetrator?” Han Sungwon’s voice trembled with anger.
“There’s another suspect. We’ve outlined a profile. Please, stop exerting pressure,” Jin pleaded.
“You’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Is it out of guilt? You sentenced him to only 12 years, didn’t you? Is that why you took Woomin in?”
Smack! Han Sungwon slapped Jin hard across the face. Jin slowly straightened his head, his eyes still sharp. It was Han Sungwon’s eyes that were bloodshot with rage.
“If you truly care about Woomin, you shouldn’t doubt him,” Jin said.
“Therefore, you too, don’t doubt. You have no right. You were the one who lost them, weren’t you?” Jin’s inner voice whispered.
“Who are you to lecture me?”
“I know I have no right. I lost them. I lost those two and everything fell apart because of it. So please…”
Han Sungwon let out a breath. “Those two…” he muttered.
“I want to meet Woomin. I need to apologize. Please, let me apologize.”
Han Sungwon stumbled backward.
This wasn’t an act of a prosecutor investigating a case. Jin had shown abilities rivaling veteran prosecutors even as a rookie. Seeing him appeal with such emotion was strange. Han Sungwon, looking into Jin’s tearful eyes, spoke.
“You, just what…?”
“Please let me meet Jung Woomin.”
Jin bowed deeply. Han Sungwon’s vision darkened.
“No, my son isn’t Jung Woomin! Prosecutor Jin, you’ve got it wrong.”
As Han Sungwon clutched his chest and staggered, his wife ran out.
“Honey!”
She supported her husband and glared at Jin with fear.
“What’s going on? Why is he like this?”
“Go inside. Go inside…”
Han Sungwon’s voice was thick. He pushed his wife, but she didn’t budge. She only eyed Jin warily, the man who had caused this to her husband. Yet Jin couldn’t back down.
“There’s something I need to resolve with Judge Han.”
Jin stood firm even under her fierce gaze.
“You said you knew our son earlier? Why are you talking about someone else? Who is Jung Woomin?”
Jin looked at her puzzled. Her reaction, not knowing about Woomin, wasn’t a lie.
Han Sungwon shook his head desperately at Jin. He hadn’t told his wife about Woomin’s pain, for both their sakes. It was one reason he had hidden Woomin.
“I’ve never heard my son mention having a prosecutor friend. Are you really his friend?”
It was then. Her sharp words struck Jin like an earthquake.
“…Just now.”
A metallic sound escaped Jin’s throat.
“What did you say?”
His ears rang. Sharp needles pricked his fingertips, and hundreds of nails scraped against a grater. The dreadful noise set his nerves on edge.
“You said you’re our son’s friend.”
“…Your son’s name…”
Han Sungwon.
His son Han Naeyung.
No, it couldn’t be. Jin shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his lips.
“Han Naeyung…”
“Is there a problem?”
Jin tried to laugh it off, but his face twisted involuntarily.
“You asked if I was abused. It wasn’t my parents. But that’s why I have a phobia of people.”
“Prosecutor, do you believe me?”
“There must be a God. Just not on my side.”
Han Naeyung’s voice mixed with the ringing in his ears. He repeated the name. As the truth dawned on him, time seemed to freeze. The air, the world, everything seemed to stop.
“Twin Animal Hospital. What an unusual name…”
Retracing his memories, Jin felt suffocated and his guts twisted in pain. From the moment he met Han Naeyung, his instincts had been alerting him, but he hadn’t realized it.
“Why are you acting like this?”
Jin looked up at Han Sungwon with disbelief.
“I didn’t know. Even with him beside me.”
How could this be? How had he not known that Jung Woomin and Han Naeyung were the same person?
“Even after losing them, I didn’t realize it this time either. I, I…”
Jin frantically pulled out his phone. He dropped it, and it turned off from the impact. Desperately, he pressed the power button. It wouldn’t turn on, so he kept pressing it harshly. Then, a chilling memory flashed in his mind. The pentobarbital sodium and scalpel with Han Naeyung pointed to a dire conclusion.
“Don’t go anywhere. Wait for me like you promised. And if everything goes well… Let’s take Nari for a walk tonight.”
He had to return immediately. He needed to feel Han Naeyung’s warmth with Nari. The person he needed to apologize to was in his own home. He couldn’t waste any more time here. Losing Woomin and dropping the medicine bag must not happen again.
“This time… I won’t be late.”
Muttering to himself, Jin started running. The couple, seeing his desperate demeanor, couldn’t say a word. Han Sungwon embraced his worried wife.
“Gyo Jin, Gyo Jin…”
Repeating the name, Han Sungwon finally remembered. The first day he took Han Naeyung to a counselor, Han Naeyung had said this before falling asleep, exhausted from crying.
“Gyo Jin hyung must be doing well, right? Judge, Gyo Jin hyung really wasn’t there, right?”
“Yes, there was no such child.”
“That’s a relief.”
The child had smiled at him for the first time and then closed his eyes peacefully as if fainting. Why had he forgotten how much that first smile had torn at his heart? Regret spread across Han Sungwon’s eyes.
***
Answer. Please, answer!
Jin connected the call, gasping for breath. He had already tried dozens of times.
Both his phone and Han Naeyung’s only rang for 30 seconds before the calls were cut off. Jin slammed the handle and floored the accelerator. There were no signs that Han Naeyung had gone outside.
But since he wasn’t answering, Jin instructed Detective Cho to go up to the house directly, and from then on, it was hell. The only trace Han Naeyung left was a single piece of paper.
Wait and don’t look for me until I contact you.
After leaving a note that seemed like a final message, Han Naeyung disappeared. He broke his promise and vanished.
I always regret it after losing something. No, this time, I won’t be late. If I lose you again this time, I…
Jin headed straight to Han Naeyung’s animal hospital. He arrived in just 20 minutes, but his whole body was drenched in sweat like someone who had run a marathon. He rang the bell, but there was no response.
Jin climbed the stairs to the second floor. He should have forced his way in from the start. He should have made him spit out the secret by force when he was keeping it. The actions he took, thinking he was being considerate of Han Naeyung, ended up being poison.
Jin wrapped his coat around his hand and broke the glass window connected to the stairs. As he climbed through the window, glass shards scratched his forearm, drawing blood.
Jin looked around the dark house of Han Naeyung, feeling dizzy as if he had vertigo. Was this really a place where someone lived? In the living room, there was only a single chair. The door facing the chair was tightly closed.
Jin took out his phone again and called Han Naeyung. After ending the still unanswered call, he contacted Seon Wook-jae.
“Has my phone’s location been tracked?”
Holding the phone with his shoulder, Jin turned the doorknob. It just clicked without opening.
“It’s currently stopped on an outer road. It seems he turned off the phone around there.”
“Keep tracking it and let me know immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jin looked around and picked up the only ceramic piece on display. With a rattling sound, a key fell out. Jin hoped that Han Naeyung was inside as he unlocked the door.
The room, covered with new wallpaper and flooring, had only a large cabinet standing in it. Jin repeatedly kicked the cabinet until it cracked. Once a gap appeared in the locked seam, he reached in and pried it open.
Woomin… Jung Woomin…
At that moment, Jin bit his lip as he saw the overturned bottle. The truth he had been denying was right before his eyes.
Lee Kyungchul, Jang Sungjun, Song Il-jae, Lee Chul-woo.
Jin recalled the names listed in the trial records in order. The ones still alive were Jang Sungjun and Lee Chul-woo. The main culprit was Jang Sungjun.
The tongue pieces floating in formalin revealed the secret and purpose Han Naeyung had been hiding.
“Is there something hidden at home?”
“Yes.”
“We need to search the house.”
“Get a warrant.”
Han Naeyung’s words had contained all the answers, but Jin hadn’t realized it foolishly. Despite his self-reproach and despair, there was no time to dwell on the past.
Jin threw the formalin jar to the floor. The sound of shattering glass was accompanied by the tongue pieces rolling on the ground. He picked them up with his bare hands.
Do you even know what you need to do now?
Jin asked himself.
Even if it meant giving up his prosecutor badge, he couldn’t leave Han Naeyung alone. Jin wrapped the crude pieces in a tissue and stuffed them into his pocket. He found a plastic bag and collected all the glass shards, cleaning the soaked floor. As if nothing had happened.
He exited the house and picked up his phone again.
“Chief, please send me the exact address where the phone stopped on the outskirts.”
“I’ll attach it now. Also, we’re tracking the suspect in the intersection murder case. He’s the main culprit in the prostitution case but has been using a different name.”
Jin, who was opening his car door, paused.
“What did you just say?”
“Yes? You asked me to look into it during my off-duty hours.”
“No, not that. Did you say the suspect in the intersection murder case is the main culprit in the prostitution case?”
“Yes. He’s called Jang Sungjun but is using the alias Jang Jun-tae. Judging by the connections, it seems they were involved in a messy fight. I showed his picture to the animal shelter staff, and they said he comes there to volunteer under the name Jang Jun-tae. If he hadn’t been wearing a mask on the CCTV, I would have recognized him immediately. I’ve just sent the last tracked address.”
“Let me know immediately if you find Jang Sungjun’s location. Right away.”
“Of course, sir.”
Jin hung up the phone and checked the message he had received. He got into the driver’s seat and input the address into the navigation system. His hand trembled a few times, and he clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly. After setting the destination, Jin opened the glove compartment and spread out the case file.
“Think. If you were Jung Woomin, where would you go?”
Jin focused on the documents. He alternated between looking at the address on the outskirts of town and the address of the site where Jung Jaemin had fallen to his death. Both places were only reachable via this road. Jin pinned his last hope on this. If it wasn’t here, he couldn’t think of any other place to go.
With fingers tapping nervously, he put on the leather gloves he always kept in the car. Jin trusted his instincts. He believed Han Naeyung would be there. The suspect in the five-way intersection case was also likely to be there. The mastermind behind the prostitution ring was Han Naeyung’s target.
Jin readjusted the navigation system and sped toward the building, overtaking the cars ahead. The speedometer numbers skyrocketed. Ignoring the traffic signals, he felt as if the shore was endlessly far away, like a drowning man struggling in the water.
“Please, please,” he muttered. His hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly, trembled with anxiety. He swiftly exited the road on the outskirts and headed directly for the abandoned building.
The low-walled houses had an eerie, haunted look. The closer he got to his destination, the darker it seemed to grow. Jin stopped the car as soon as he saw the abandoned building through the window.
No lights were on; the building was enveloped in darkness. He turned on his phone’s flashlight and shone it into the building. Seeing the trash piled up here and there, he realized how long this place had been abandoned.
Crunch, the sound of broken glass underfoot echoed as he stepped inside. Jin began to climb the stairs, aiming for the sixth floor.
“Please be there,” he whispered. He ran up the stairs without stopping. He couldn’t afford to pause. This time, he wouldn’t be too late. For once, Jin prayed to a god he had never believed in.
Even with his heart pounding and his throat dry as if it were tearing, he didn’t stop. Jin illuminated his path with his phone. The building, once an office, now had only pillars standing here and there in an open space.
A cold wind wrapped around him and vanished. Jin ran toward the direction the wind came from. There, at a large window with the glass shattered, he saw two figures. Found them! It’s not too late yet.
Without needing to look back, Jin knew Han Naeyung was there. His thin body looked pitiable, like a burned-out log. Jin shouted with his parched throat.
“Dr. Han!”
Han Naeyung’s body flinched.
However, he pretended not to hear and continued dragging the limp man toward the broken window. His movements looked labored, and Jin’s vision blurred. The wind blew fiercely this time.
“Woomin!” Jin called out desperately, hoping Han Naeyung would turn around this time.
“Jung Woomin!”
Finally, Han Naeyung slowly turned. His face, eaten away by the darkness, was barely visible. But Jin confessed to Han Naeyung, revealing his true name, the name that remembered Jung Woomin.
“It’s me… Gyo Jin.”
Han Naeyung’s body staggered dramatically as he held onto the man.
***
Han Naeyung calmly opened his eyes. He heard the sound of Jin leaving through the front door. When he got up, Nari whimpered as if asking if he was okay.
Han Naeyung petted Nari’s head and limped out of the bedroom. He found a sandwich on the dining table. Jin must have prepared it for him despite being busy. Han Naeyung pulled out a chair and sat down. Nari jumped onto his lap like a child who had lost its mother.
“What’s wrong?”
He patted Nari, who whimpered like she was crying. Although Han Naeyung uncharacteristically gave her a piece of the sandwich, Nari didn’t eat it. Han Naeyung chewed the sandwich thoroughly and swallowed. His throat felt tight as if a candy was stuck in it, but he forced it down.
Han Naeyung looked at the bandage on his foot. He couldn’t remember how he met Jin and got here, or how he went outside. Maybe he really was at his limit.
After nearly an hour of slow eating, Han Naeyung washed the dishes. He also cleaned the mug in the sink and put it in the cupboard. Nari followed closely like a guard dog. When Han Naeyung led her to the food bowl, Nari started eating her food, still keeping her eyes fixed on him.
“Good girl. Eating on your own.”
Han Naeyung smiled and praised Nari. He wondered if Jin’s claim that Nari would make a mess if left alone was true.
Kneeling, Han Naeyung noticed a tissue box with half-torn tissues sticking out. Maybe it wasn’t a lie after all, he muttered, standing up. He tore a sheet from the notepad on the table.
He held the pen for a long time. Jin would surely come looking for him if he disappeared without a word.
He began to write, “I’ll come back. Thank you for everything.” But then crumpled the paper. He tore out a new sheet and started writing again.
“Don’t look for me until I contact you.”
Han Naeyung pressed his eyes with his hand holding the pen. He needed to love and be loved by someone normal. Jin had no reason to embrace his broken self. Han Naeyung had received more than enough affection from his parents and Jin. But his own vessel was too small to let go of hatred and too weak to shake off the past.
His counselor had said that trying to erase half of himself would make him feel better. So he didn’t forget Jaemin even more. Everyone told him to erase him, but if he did, all the happy days they had would disappear too.
Sometimes, even in a cage, they were happy. When they fell asleep in each other’s arms, the moldy walls and cold air didn’t scare them. His hippocampus stored the memories with Jaemin intact.
“Hyung, they say there’s a hippocampus in your brain. Does that mean there’s also a sea lion and a polar bear? Knock, knock, Mr. Polar Bear in Hyung’s head, please come out.”
Jaemin’s pure voice was vivid. Han Naeyung curled up and buried his face in his knees.
The truth is, I also want to be happy with you. I want to breathe in your scent and sleep peacefully, knowing you love me and I love you. But nothing can be resolved while he’s alive. If, by any chance, I can get my hands dirty and still meet you again, then maybe I can smile while keeping the secret locked away. If possible, I won’t be separated from you like Nemesis beside Dike. The subsequent endurance would be entirely his to bear.
