“I told you not to come to our house. Why do you keep coming here and bothering people who are trying to live quietly! Bother! And you, Woman, why are you out here! Get inside quickly! What will your husband say if he comes home and sees you!”
The woman, her face a mask of fury, glared at Jung Rok and Jung Yoon, her voice rising to a shrill crescendo as she shouted towards the half-opened door of her house.
Her cheeks were reddened, blotchy with anger and exertion, her chest heaving with each indignant breath.
Her hands trembled violently, mirroring the slight tremor in her thighs.
Strands of hair, plastered to her cheeks and forehead with sweat, framed a terrified demeanor that somehow seemed eerily out of place amidst her aggressive outburst.
The combination was unsettling, almost disquieting.
“We came to speak with you about your grandson’s investigation. Please calm down.”
Jung Yoon’s voice, though firm, was measured, an attempt to de-escalate the volatile situation.
He knew that any direct confrontation would only exacerbate her agitation.
“Grandson…?”
The woman’s voice, though still tinged with anger, held a flicker of confusion.
As they instinctively moved a little distance from the house, allowing for a semblance of respectful space, the woman’s head became slightly visible, pacing restlessly in the yard inside a low, weathered stone wall.
Jung Yoon kept his gaze fixed on her, observing her movements, her subtle reactions, as he continued, his voice clear and deliberate.
“Jung Yong-baek.”
The moment he spoke the name, the woman’s shoulders shot up, stiffening abruptly, a visible jolt running through her frame.
Then, a long, drawn-out sigh escaped her, deep and profound.
After that, her shoulders slowly lowered back into place, the tension visibly easing.
Was that sigh, Jung Yoon wondered, a sigh of relief?
His eyes, always sharp, narrowed imperceptibly, a keen analytical glint appearing within their depths. The subtle shift in her posture, the release of tension, spoke volumes.
“…Y-Yong-baek. What about Yong-baek?”
Her voice was still shaky, but the raw anger had been replaced by a hesitant, almost fearful curiosity.
In stark contrast, Go Ok-nam, who was the grandmother of both Yong-baek and Yong-jun, turned not just white, but positively blue, her face draining of all color, leaving her complexion an ashen, sickly hue.
“Why are you harassing a boy who’s doing well at his company! Why!”
Go Ok-nam trembled as if she would faint at any moment, screaming angrily, her voice reaching a pitch that bordered on frantic.
The wildly different reactions of the two women, one a flicker of relief, the other outright panic and denial, immediately made Jung Rok and Jung Yoon’s faces turn cold, a shared sense of premonition flashing through their minds.
They had stumbled upon something significant, a deeper layer to the mystery.
And it was just as they were about to speak again, to press further, that a sudden vibration interrupted them.
Buzz—.
Jung Yoon’s pocket vibrated, a persistent hum against his thigh.
Deep, persistent gazes, heavy with unspoken questions and renewed urgency, collectively turned to Jung Yoon, their attention instantly diverted from the agitated women.
“Oh, what’s up?”
Jung Yoon answered, his voice betraying a hint of impatience, as if anticipating another obstacle.
“[Officer Woo. It’s me. Jung Yong-baek didn’t show up for work.]”
The voice on the other end belonged to Han-gyeol, his tone crisp and professional, delivering the unsettling news.
“What?”
Jung Yoon’s immediate response was sharp, laced with surprise and a growing sense of dread.
The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to shift, forming a more alarming picture.
“[I came to the company as soon as the warrant was issued, but he didn’t come to work. They said he didn’t even contact them. They said this is the first time this has happened. He’s not answering his phone either. I asked the landlord of his residence to check, but it seems he’s not home either.]”
Han-gyeol’s words painted a clear picture of a sudden, unexplained disappearance.
Jung Yoon listened to Han-gyeol’s words without answering, his mind already racing, processing the implications.
He moved instinctively, turning and leaning against the opposite wall, creating a momentary barrier between himself and the two agitated women.
As he turned his back, Jung Rok naturally blocked his front, a silent, protective gesture, his presence a reassuring warmth behind Jung Yoon.
Jung Yoon only opened his mouth after feeling the steady, supportive warmth behind his back, a silent acknowledgment of their partnership.
“Jung Yong-jun secured?” he asked, his voice low and urgent, prioritizing the other crucial element of their plan.
“[Lieutenant Ki is meeting with his primary physician right now. He said he’d take him straight to Deokdong Police Station, so it won’t take long.]”
Han-gyeol confirmed, offering a sliver of good news amidst the developing complications.
“Understood for now. You investigate the people around him and his PC records there. Like search history. And also pull up his used annual leave records.”
Jung Yoon rattled off the instructions, his mind already shifting into investigative overdrive, thinking several steps ahead.
“[Understood. And about the lighter printing that was sent to the forensics team this morning. They restored it and sent it. The last character is definitely rak, and the preceding characters are ra-il-rak, da-il-lak, ra-ip-rak. But what else could it be? It has to be lilac. I checked, and it’s gone now, but at that time, there was only one teahouse in that village. The name of that teahouse was ‘Lilac’.]”
Han-gyeol’s report, though technical, offered a crucial breakthrough.
The recovered characters on the lighter, the unique teahouse name, it all connected.
Jung Yoon, turning to finish the call, patted Jung Rok’s shoulder, a silent signal of the information he had just received.
Jung Rok, who had been standing as if confronting Go Ok-nam, his posture firm and unyielding, immediately stepped back, creating a clear space.
Then, he made immediate eye contact with Go Ok-nam, who was leaning against the wall, her eyes still wide with a mix of fear and confusion.
“[What’s interesting is the owner of that Lilac teahouse.]”
Han-gyeol’s voice continued, a hint of intrigue in his tone.
“[Her name is Na Yeon-joo. Currently, according to South Korean law, she’s missing, and by their accounts, she ran away in the middle of the night. Anyway, her whereabouts are unknown. And there’s another unusual detail.]”
“Unusual details?”
Jung Yoon prompted, his interest piqued, sensing another crucial piece falling into place.
“[That… Na Yeon-joo is Jung Yong-gil’s ex-wife.]”
The revelation hung in the air, a silent bomb dropping in the quiet village.
The pieces were no longer just shifting; they were rapidly clicking into place, forming a disturbing pattern.
The connection between the missing teahouse owner, the ex-wife of a key figure, and the recovered lighter print was too significant to ignore.
***
Deokdong Police Station.
“Where’s Jung Yong-jun?”
The two, having returned to the station, their faces etched with a mixture of urgency and fatigue, headed straight for the makeshift cold case team office.
Han-gyeol, who was on the phone, spotted them and raised his hand high, a beacon of information.
He held up a piece of paper with “Investigation Room” scribbled on it in bold, hurried strokes, and flapped it impatiently, guiding them.
Jung Yoon and Jung Rok went straight to the investigation room at the end of the corridor, their footsteps echoing with purpose.
When they opened the door, they were met with a scene of hushed intensity: detectives gathered closely in the small, dimly lit space, their faces grim, their attention fixed on the transparent glass partition.
Hyun-cheol, who was sitting in a chair in the back, stretched out his neck and beckoned as if telling them to come closer, his gesture indicating the seriousness of the situation.
Jung Rok took the first step, his gaze immediately drawn to the figures visible through the glass.
“What’s that?”
Jung Rok muttered, his eyes narrowing, trying to decipher the scene.
“A lawyer,” Hyun-cheol answered curtly.
“Not the badge,” Jung Rok clarified, his attention on another figure within the room.
“A doctor.”
The moment Hyun-cheol spoke, Jung Yoon’s eyebrows and forehead furrowed, a deep crease appearing between his brows, a clear sign of his immediate displeasure.
“Why a doctor?” he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.
“He’s sick, isn’t he?”
Hyun-cheol retorted, a hint of exasperation in his tone, as if stating the obvious.
“No…”
Jung Yoon began, already anticipating the complications this presented.
“They said he needs it for psychological stability. They said it wouldn’t interfere with the investigation.”
Hyun-cheol pressed his forehead, looking troubled, clearly indicating his own frustration with the situation.
He clicked his tongue at the end of his words and let out a heavy sigh, a sound of weary resignation.
Jung Yoon couldn’t hide his dumbfounded expression, his face a picture of disbelief.
“It will certainly interfere. You know that this doctor wrote all of Jung Yong-jun’s admissions, discharges, and even his outings, right?”
Jung Yoon’s voice rose, a mix of anger and disbelief.
The blatant conflict of interest was galling.
“That was all done at the guardian’s request, and they submitted a statement of reasons saying it was within the scope of no issues for treatment.” Hyun-cheol recited the official line, clearly indicating that the department was adhering to all legal protocols, however frustrating they might be.
“…No issues?”
As Jung Yoon tried to argue, his eyes widening in incredulity, Hyun-cheol just closed his eyes, a silent plea for him to drop the argument.
“No, did we call him here to hear about that bastard’s health condition?”
Jung Rok interjected, his own patience wearing thin, his voice laced with a raw edge of frustration.
“Don’t you know about the articles that came out the other day, calling us violent police? Shut your mouth and sit down, you too.”
Hyun-cheol snapped back, his voice low but firm, reminding them of the external pressures and the need for extreme caution.
Jung Rok stopped Jung Yoon, his hand pressing down on Jung Yoon’s frustrated shoulder, a silent command for restraint.
He shook his head, a subtle warning.
Jung Yoon spun around abruptly, his anger barely contained.
Since the cold case team was formed, there had been a continuous stream of news articles, their headlines often sensational, highlighting the perceived failings of the police.
A recent program that featured this as a special topic had particularly focused on individuals who were unfairly accused as criminals due to coercive police investigations and later released, leading to a surge in public criticism against the police of the past.
The department was under immense scrutiny, and any misstep could ignite a public outcry.
It wasn’t hard to understand why the department had ordered caution in investigations.
Jung Yoon couldn’t add more to the argument, knowing that if Yong-jun was indeed truly ill, just having him there was a fortunate situation.
If they gave him any more leeway here, if they pushed too hard or appeared to violate his rights, they might not even be able to call Yong-jun as a reference witness again.
They were walking a tightrope.
But he was in a hurry.
Time was of the essence, and this situation, with a lawyer and a seemingly biased doctor present, dramatically increased the chance that even if Yong-jun had seen or knew something crucial, he wouldn’t be able to speak freely.
Jung Yoon slammed his forehead against the wall in frustration, a guttural sound echoing in the small, crowded space, unable to contain his mounting anxiety.
Hyun-cheol clicked his tongue at Jung Yoon’s actions and shook his head with a disgusted look, clearly disapproving of the display of emotion.
“Jung Yong-jun is a reference witness right now. Not a suspect. And we barely got him to sit down on the condition that the doctor accompanies him. What can we do when the lawyer is pushing his mental health history and saying the reference statement isn’t valid even before we start? Ah, we have to at least hear him out, don’t we?”
Hyun-cheol’s voice was laced with a weary resignation, articulating the difficult tightrope they were walking.
He was explaining the harsh realities of their current predicament, the legal constraints that shackled their investigative fervor.
Suddenly, something hot and surging rose in his throat, a bitter taste of frustration and powerlessness.
Jung Yoon clutched his forehead, his knuckles white, and muttered in a low voice, almost to himself, the words heavy with sarcasm,
“With a lawyer and a doctor, he’ll surely open his mouth.”
“Or what are you going to do if he absolutely won’t come? Huh? Whether he opens it or not, we need to have a chance. Should we not hear a single word, not even get a warrant? If you don’t want to listen, you can leave. Whether it’s for show or whatever, I think this is better.”
Hyun-cheol didn’t back down either, his own frustration mirroring Jung Yoon, though he expressed it with a more pragmatic, weary edge.
However, his expression didn’t look relieved; he was merely stating the unfortunate facts of their situation.
Jung Rok, noticing this, stopped Jung Yoon, who was about to say something more, his hand reaching out, a silent plea for restraint.
He quietly watched Jung Yoon, his gaze steady and understanding, and then grabbed his arm, a firm, grounding touch.
The moment their eyes met, he shook his head, a silent instruction to calm down, to temper his anger.
Jung Yoon, his brows terribly furrowed, roughly pushed Jung Rok’s hand away, his frustration bubbling over, unable to fully contain his emotions.
“We could have just gotten a doctor’s note!” he hissed, his voice almost swallowed, as he forcibly tried to suppress his heavy breathing, the effort visible in the tautness of his jaw.
“It’s because they wouldn’t give it to us that we’re doing this, isn’t it? What, go grab him by the collar, beat him up, and get it?”
Hyun-cheol retorted, his voice sharp with a hint of exasperation, hitting at the core of Jung Yoon’s impractical idealism.
“That’s…!”
Jung Yoon began, sputtering, trying to formulate a counter-argument.
“If you’re not going to do it, then shut up.”
Hyun-cheol waved his hand, a dismissive gesture, indicating he didn’t want to hear any more of Jung Yoon’s arguments, effectively ending the debate.
Eventually, Jung Yoon, having nothing he could do, no practical solution to offer, closed his mouth, a grim line replacing his usual controlled expression.
Only then did silence finally settle in the small, cramped space, a heavy quiet that permeated the room.
Serious eyes were fixed on the cold, sterile space beyond the transparent glass, all attention now focused on the man inside.
Inside the rectangular space, Jung Yong-jun, the subject of their intense scrutiny, was constantly restless, his demeanor uneasy, almost frantic.
His pale complexion, almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights, suggested the immense fear he felt, a palpable tremor in his slight frame.
However, whether it was genuine or a carefully orchestrated act was something no one would definitively determine.
Jung Yoon, ever the astute observer, carefully observed his eyes, his lips, the subtle movements of his fingers, searching for any tell-tale sign of deception.
He was determined not to tolerate it if any part—his gaze, his expression, or his words—seemed inconsistent, if there was even the slightest deviation from what he perceived as genuine.
As the silence lengthened, stretching taut, a dry cough and a small grumbling voice broke the quiet, a subtle shift in the air.
At that moment, a new presence was felt inside the glass wall, a figure approaching.
The firmly closed door to the interrogation room opened with a soft click, and Ki Jun-hyuk appeared, his demeanor radiating a calm professionalism.
Ki Jun-hyuk walked in, embracing several files, a stack of documents cradled in his arm, and wearing a pleasant, almost charming smile.
He pulled out a chair with a practiced ease and nodded towards Jung Yong-jun, who was sitting opposite him, his eyes still wary, distrustful.
Jung Yong-jun merely stared at him with suspicious eyes, his gaze unwavering, betraying no particular reaction, no welcoming gesture.
The lawyer, instead, bowed his head, a deferential gesture.
He then added, his voice low and sympathetic, that Jung Yong-jun’s condition was very unstable, a subtle yet firm warning to those observing.
“Ah, yes. Well. It would be stranger if he were perfectly fine sitting here. I understand.”
Ki Jun-hyuk laughed brightly and heartily, a rich, resonant sound that filled the room, waving his hand dismissively as if to brush away any concerns.
He then subtly glanced towards the glass wall where the detectives were, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of his eyes, a calculated acknowledgement of their presence.
The sight of him cunningly saluting, not even knowing precisely who was there but saluting nonetheless, was exasperating, a clear sign of his manipulative nature.
“How long will it take?”
Jung Rok asked, his voice cutting through the forced pleasantries, his impatience growing.
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