Han-gyeol scurried off to the administrative office, his footsteps echoing in the surprisingly quiet lobby.
Jung Yoon calmly looked around the hospital’s interior, taking in the grand, almost opulent, surroundings.
It seemed the first floor was meticulously designed to prevent hospitalized patients from easily coming and going, likely under the guise of patient protection, although it felt more like a subtle form of confinement.
The heavy doors and the absence of casual foot traffic reinforced this impression.
Jung Yoon carefully read the prominently displayed notices and guidelines.
The hospital’s policies were surprisingly restrictive.
They said going outside was free, but perhaps not visitation?
The regulations seemed to contradict themselves, creating a sense of unease.
He noticed a small, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he absorbed the information.
As he raised his head, Jeong-rok pointed somewhere with his chin, a silent cue.
Following his gaze, Jung Yoon saw a familiar face, small, but clearly recognizable, placed directly below the chief director’s impressive portrait and accolades.
It was the face of the lawyer who had accompanied Jung Yong-joon during the interrogation.
“You said he wasn’t a relative,” Jung Yoon murmured, recalling Jeong-rok’s earlier assertion.
The memory of the lawyer’s composed demeanor still rankled him.
“Yes, and no academic ties either,” Jeong-rok confirmed, a frown creasing his brow as he considered the implications.
“He must have a really good connection with the hospital director… Isn’t that the Sunyang logo?”
Jung Yoon pointed, his finger tracing the small, distinct emblem.
At the very end of the section listing the faces and backgrounds of the hospital’s various doctors, a small Sunyang logo was clearly imprinted.
Below it was an introduction stating it was a law firm in cooperation with the hospital, and next to it, other affiliated companies were listed, all bearing the same corporate mark.
The omnipresence of Sunyang was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like calculated influence.
“It seems there are many places connected to Sunyang in Deokdong,” Jung Yoon observed, a new piece of the puzzle falling into place, connecting seemingly disparate entities.
“Maybe Sunyang needed to make connections in Deokdong,” Jeong-rok mused, considering the broader implications, his mind already formulating theories.
The corporate giant’s reach seemed to extend far beyond what was initially apparent.
“Team Leader!”
While Jung Yoon was taking a photo of the Sunyang logo and Jeong-rok was re-examining the donation list, Han-gyeol came running from a distance, his voice loud, breaking the hushed quiet of the lobby.
The quiet lobby grew noisy with Han-gyeol’s thumping footsteps, a stark contrast to the earlier silence.
“…He must have just gained weight from following Ki Jun-hyeok.”
Jeong-rok quipped dryly, a slight smirk playing on his lips, a rare moment of levity.
“Don’t be so harsh. He gets hurt easily.”
Jung Yoon chastised gently, though a small smile touched his own lips.
The two stood with their arms crossed in similar postures, looking worriedly at the approaching Han-gyeol.
Han-gyeol, having quickly run up to them, placed his hands on his knees and caught his breath, panting slightly, clearly having exerted himself.
“They say she’s not here.”
“What’s not here?”
Jeong-rok asked, his voice sharp with impatience, cutting straight to the point.
“The nurse.” Han-gyeol finally managed, still breathless, a hint of frustration in his tone.
“…Why?”
“She’s off. Today and tomorrow.”
The simple answer brought with it a fresh wave of disappointment.
In the end, they had to return from the hospital with no progress, their efforts yielding nothing.
Even though they had requested to speak with the nurse who had contacted Jung Yong-joon, even if it wasn’t the specific one they had called earlier, the hospital staunchly refused all requests, citing patient privacy and strict protocols.
They even tried to talk to nurses coming and going outside the hospital, attempting to glean any information, but everyone was busy avoiding them, wary of the stern head nurse, whose reputation seemed to precede her.
They used the convenient excuse of not having a warrant to show nothing, a frustrating bureaucratic barrier that effectively stonewalled their investigation.
Consequently, the three could not get any further information about Jung Yong-joon’s outing from the hospital.
Even when they only asked if it was truly his brother, or if anyone had heard him say “brother,” they clammed up, their faces tightening with professional discretion, refusing to betray any details.
With no other choice, the three returned to Damhong Village, their spirits deflated, the weight of their lack of progress pressing down on them.
However, the village, which had been noisy with the missing person report since morning, had become even more closed off than before, like a clam tightly shut, its inhabitants retreating further into themselves.
The grandmothers in Damhong Village, remembering Jeong-rok’s memorable face from previous visits, clicked their tongues and pretended not to know them, their gazes sliding away.
Since the two detectives had such distinctive faces, they couldn’t even pretend to be other people, their attempts at blending in futile, instantly recognized as outsiders.
Left with no options, the two had no choice but to visit the victim’s family.
For now, Yang Seon-hwa’s husband seemed to be the only person willing to cooperate with the police in catching the culprit, a solitary beacon of hope in a sea of suspicion and fear.
“Someone else disappeared, you say.”
Yang Seon-hwa’s husband, who had reportedly been staying home for a while, looked even gaunter than before, his face etched with deeper lines of grief and worry, reflecting the toll of his protracted sorrow.
Jung Yoon suggested they talk while eating, a common practice to encourage conversation and ease tension, but he shook his head, saying he had no appetite, the words hollow, devoid of life.
He just sat listlessly on the floor, staring at the distant sky, his gaze vacant, lost in his own world of pain.
“The villagers say that it’s like this again because the detectives are coming and going. They say if the detectives hadn’t come, our Seon-hwa wouldn’t have died. So, don’t tell them anything and send them away.”
The man’s words were a heavy accusation, reflecting the bitter sentiment of the community, a direct challenge to their presence.
“…I’m sorry,” Jung Yoon mumbled, feeling the weight of the blame, the collective anger of the villagers pressing down on him.
“Why? Is it really because of you detectives?” the man asked, his voice laced with a raw, painful sarcasm, a direct confrontation.
“No, that’s not…”
Jung Yoon stammered, unable to even properly look at the man’s slumped shoulders, lowering his head in shame, the words failing him.
“Then there’s nothing to be sorry about. And Detective, your face isn’t even thirty, so what does it have to do with the old case? It’s just… that such a person is still alive.”
The man sighed deeply and flicked the towel he was holding against his knee, a nervous habit, a small gesture of his profound unease.
“They’ve never experienced it, so they don’t understand how people like me feel. Please understand even if they’re cold. I might not have faced you detectives like this if Seon-hwa hadn’t ended up that way.”
His voice was tinged with a deep, personal sorrow that transcended anger.
“I understand,” Jung Yoon assured him, his voice soft with empathy, genuinely feeling the man’s pain.
“So… what else do you want to ask?”
The man finally inquired, a weary resignation in his tone, ready to cooperate despite his personal anguish.
Their unexpectedly composed demeanor, despite the underlying pain, prompted the three detectives to set aside their initial embarrassment and change their approach, adopting a more direct and respectful tone.
Jung Yoon was the first to hand him the photo he had, a stark image of the disposal site where the victims were found, a grim reminder of the tragedy.
Jung Yoon showed him the disposal site along with the map and asked if there were any unusual features, anything that might stand out, a specific detail perhaps.
In short, he was confirming if it was a place that any villager, or even an outsider, would commonly visit, seeking any anomalies in the landscape.
“No. Honestly, I didn’t know this place well either. When I asked, a few guys knew about it, but it seemed they only knew it as a shortcut. Most elders don’t know it; rather, the young people do.”
The man’s words offered a fresh perspective.
At the mention of “young people,” Han-gyeol tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.
He spread his hand wide, rolled his eyes upward, and began folding his fingers one by one, counting silently.
Then, seemingly finding something odd, he tilted his head again and again, his curiosity piqued.
Jung Yoon was the same.
If “young people” meant those in their 30s, the age range became questionable if it was the same perpetrator as the past case.
No matter how sturdy a child, it would be difficult for a child in his early teens to kill and bury middle-aged women like that, the sheer physicality of it being a major hurdle.
“If they’re young people here, would they be around my age?”
While Jung Yoon was deep in thought, Jeong-rok, perhaps sharing the same doubt, chimed into the conversation, voicing the question that was on both their minds.
The man glanced at Jeong-rok, who was pointing at himself, then chuckled heartily and waved his hand, dismissing the idea.
“No. In this rural town… if you call someone young, they can be forty, forty-two, even up to forty-three.”
This broadened the age range significantly, making the timeline for the cold case more plausible.
“Then, are there any people in the village of that age who might wear suits? Clothes that children might call ‘dad’s clothes’?”
Jung Yoon pressed, trying to connect the missing person’s last sighting with potential suspects.
The man pondered the continuous questions, then shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He massaged the deep lines on his brow with his hand, and after thinking several times with nothing coming to mind, he let out a deep sigh, a sound of frustration.
“In our village, if you wear something like that… you’d just be stepping in cow dung… Everyone here farms, so even the village youth association members dress similarly, in casual, practical clothes suitable for farm work.”
The man’s explanation further complicated their attempt to identify a suspect based on clothing.
“…I see.”
It was the answer he expected, but Jung Yoon couldn’t hide his disappointment at the lack of immediate progress.
Were they really going back empty-handed again?
The hearts of the three, turning to leave, felt heavy, weighed down by the stagnant investigation.
Yang Seon-hwa’s husband was just as disappointed.
More than anyone, he genuinely wanted to catch the bastard who killed his wife as soon as possible, so he was still deep in thought even as the three exited the gate, his mind still searching for answers.
Then, suddenly, a face flashed through his mind, a fleeting image that sparked a memory.
“Excuse me, Detectives!”
The three, who had bowed lightly and turned to leave, looked back at the man who was holding onto the gate, half-peeking out, his face now alert.
Though not a certainty, his face clearly showed something had come to mind, a potential lead.
Jung Yoon was the first to quickly approach him, hope rekindling in his chest.
“Ah, that… It just occurred to me. Well… he’s a village guy, but it’s a bit strange to say he lives in the village. Is that still okay…?”
The man hesitated, unsure if the information was relevant or if he was overstepping. Was he saying something unnecessary?
Seeing his indecision, Jeong-rok, who had approached by then, gently reassured him in a soft voice, his tone soothing.
“It’s fine. We’re just investigating for reference. Did someone come to mind?”
The man slowly swallowed hard at Jeong-rok’s words, then scanned the backs of the three before speaking in a low voice, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
“Well… Yong-baek and Chang-gyu. Jung Yong-baek. Park Chang-gyu. In our village, the only ones who occasionally come and go wearing suits are Yong-baek and Chang-gyu.”
The three, having heard the man’s story, quietly exchanged glances.
Jung Yong-baek was already a known person, so there was no need to dwell on him; it was expected.
But the newly mentioned name, Park Chang-gyu…
The expressions of the three, who secretly exchanged glances, grew serious.
Han-gyeol turned around and quickly sent a message to Jun-hyeok, requesting an investigation into Park Chang-gyu, the new name a potential breakthrough.
Meanwhile, Jung Yoon mulled over Park Chang-gyu’s name.
He felt uneasy, a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had heard the name somewhere before.
Where had he heard it?
It was definitely a familiar name, almost on the tip of his tongue.
Jung Yoon was lost in thought, rolling the name Chang-gyu around in his mind, trying to place it.
“He became a lawyer, and well, he doesn’t come often, but he does visit sometimes. Chang-gyu also handled that redevelopment project here.”
The man provided more context, explaining Park Chang-gyu’s connection to the village.
“They say he’s a changed man now, but back in the day, he caused a lot of trouble. Hanging around with delinquents from the next village. Getting into fights with kids… Back then, his parents spent quite a bit of money because of that incident. Well, they were wealthy people, so it was just a drop in the bucket…”
The man’s words painted a picture of a troubled past.
The car heading to Deokdong Police Station was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine.
Jung Yoon, whose car keys had been taken by Jeong-rok, sat in the passenger seat, recalling what Yang Seon-hwa’s husband had said, piecing together the fragmented information.
“But now, he’s pulled himself together and is doing very well. He even steps up, saying he’s sorry about back then, even though he has nothing to do with the village now. You know the saying, ‘a dragon comes out of a ditch,’ right? Chang-gyu is exactly that kind of guy. We thought he was a snake, but he turned out to be a dragon. Yong-baek too. That’s probably why they’re still close despite all that trouble.”
The man’s words offered a glimpse into the complex social dynamics of the village, and the unexpected connection between Yong-baek and Chang-gyu.
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