With Jung Yong-baek’s alibi confirmed, the investigation returned to square one, falling into a frustrating stalemate.
The initial surge of hope that had briefly ignited within the Cold Case Team had now been extinguished, leaving behind a heavy sense of defeat.
“He definitely wasn’t in Korea on the presumed date of the crime. We’ve checked immigration records and even all the airport CCTV footage,” Hyun-cheol declared, his voice tight with exasperation.
He had rushed out of a meeting, his expression grim, during the investigation report, and now clutched at his hair, groaning in sheer frustration.
The dead end was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Jung Yong-joon clearly said he heard his brother came to visit when he went out,” Han-gyeol insisted, his brow furrowed in thought.
He had personally taken the nurse’s statement at the time and was adamant that he remembered it perfectly, poking his temple with his finger as he spoke, as if to emphasize the certainty of his memory.
Jung Yoon also clearly remembered what Han-gyeol had relayed; the detail had stuck with him.
“So, does Jung Yong-joon have another brother, or what?”
Jun-hyeok muttered, pacing the room, his frustration mounting.
“If it came from Jung Yong-joon to the nurse, its credibility is low given his condition, and it’s not impossible he was mistaken,” Jeong-rok calmly interjected, offering a logical, albeit unhelpful, explanation.
His tone was detached, analytical, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil around him.
“Haa… If our first case ends up like this, we’ll be shut down quickly,” Hyun-cheol lamented, his voice dripping with despair.
“Do you want to get shut down now?”
A chilling whisper, impossibly close, startled Jun-hyeok.
Hyun-cheol, who seemed to materialize out of thin air, had snuck up behind him.
“Gah!”
Jun-hyeok, startled, slammed his forehead into the monitor with a sickening thud.
Hyun-cheol, looking down contemptuously at Jun-hyeok, who was writhing in pain, kicked the back of a chair and bellowed, “Why are you spacing out? Aren’t you going to investigate? Hey, Moon Jeong-rok, you said you’d make me fly like a spring or something when you dragged me down here. But what? He has an alibi? Come here. Come here, you!”
Hyun-cheol, who had rushed down after being briefed from upstairs and was now practically vibrating with rage, genuinely looked like he was about to physically assault Jeong-rok.
Jung Yoon, sensing the imminent explosion, quietly made way and stepped aside, creating a clear path for Hyun-cheol’s wrath.
Noticing this, Jeong-rok looked at Jung Yoon with a dumbfounded expression, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then fled towards the window as Hyun-cheol charged like an enraged ox.
“Ah, ah, just a moment. Wait, Chief. Calm down a bit. Breathe, hoo. Exhale slowly…” Jeong-rok pleaded, attempting to pacify his furious superior.
“Bullshit. You exhale slowly. I’ll pull out your very soul like noodles!” Hyun-cheol roared, advancing menacingly.
“Why are you saying such scary things?!” Jeong-rok yelped, trying to dodge.
“What’s scary is you, still here even with an alibi. Aren’t you leaving immediately? Go out and get evidence! Bring the culprit, you bastard!”
Hyun-cheol was genuinely frustrated, his anger fueled by the fear of their new unit being disbanded.
Han-gyeol barely managed to hold back Hyun-cheol, who was rushing at Jeong-rok as if he would slit his throat right then and there.
In the office, which had instantly turned into a chaotic scene of shouting and near-physical altercations, Jung Yoon alone turned his gaze to the monitor, attempting to make sense of the conflicting information and to try and match Jung Yong-joon’s statement about his brother’s visit with the actual time of the crime.
He sought logic amidst the madness.
However, Jung Yoon also couldn’t escape Hyun-cheol’s relentless pressure.
“Hey, you crazy Mr. So. Do you have time to bury your face in the monitor right now?”
Hyun-cheol demanded, his voice suddenly directed at Jung Yoon.
“…Yes?” Jung Yoon replied, surprised to be singled out.
“Do you have the leisure to just sit there idling?”
Hyun-cheol’s next target was clearly Jung Yoon.
Hyun-cheol, who had approached instantly, kicked Jung Yoon’s chair flatly, sending it skidding, and muttered eerily, his voice low and menacing.
Jung Yoon, who had been quietly observing the chaos and was suddenly hit, looked dumbfounded and covered his face with his hand, taken aback by the sudden aggression.
“…Me?”
“Then who else would be the door’s partner besides you? If the door goes out, the handle has to go with it. Why are you sitting there reading text? Get up!”
Hyun-cheol thundered, his voice laced with impatience. Jung Yoon, who had suddenly become the ‘door handle’ in Hyun-cheol’s bizarre metaphor, startled by the thunderous shout, sprang to his feet.
Jung Yoon hastily grabbed his car keys.
Hyun-cheol clapped his hands like a madman, a disturbing rhythm.
He even made up a strange song, singing it to hurry them along, and literally chased the two out of the office.
“If you come back empty-handed, know that you’ll become the main office’s front door, or its handle! I’m not kidding! I’m going to the hardware store right now! Huh?”
Even as Jung Yoon and Jeong-rok got into the elevator, Hyun-cheol’s desperate shouts echoed down the hallway like an echo from a mountaintop, a chilling promise of what awaited them if they failed.
After a bout of commotion, the office stabilized only after Hyun-cheol was called back to a meeting, his explosive energy temporarily redirected.
However, the hard-won stability of the office, as always, did not last long.
It was the moment Han-gyeol and Jun-hyeok, who had been starving all day, were about to open the lid of their cup noodles, now filled with hot water.
They had been so engrossed in working due to Jung Yong-baek’s sudden alibi that they hadn’t even realized they’d missed mealtime.
Now, with tired faces, they were just sitting at a corner table, patiently waiting for their ramen to cook, a small comfort in their exhausting day.
Just then, the phone rang loudly in the empty, silent office, its shrill sound cutting through the quiet.
Jun-hyeok’s face, which had been about to snap his chopsticks in two in anticipation of his meal, instantly darkened.
Han-gyeol, who had been salivating and was about to eagerly open the cup noodle lid, was in the same boat, his hunger put on hold.
Rrrrrr—.
He hoped it would stop, but seeing no sign of it ceasing, Han-gyeol finally got up from his seat, a sigh escaping his lips.
Han-gyeol trudged over to where the phone was, sighed deeply once more, and picked up the receiver.
“Yes. This is Seo Han-gyeol from the Cold Case Team,” he answered, his voice betraying a hint of weariness.
The moment Han-gyeol spoke, Jun-hyeok, like a madman driven by primal hunger, scooped up a large mouthful of ramen and stuffed it into his mouth, determined to get some food in before the inevitable new assignment.
Han-gyeol’s eyes, filled with betrayal at Jun-hyeok’s selfish act, fixed on Jun-hyeok’s mouth, which resembled a black hole sucking in the energy of the universe.
Jun-hyeok slurped down the ramen, not even noticing his palate was getting scraped from the speed.
He was practically drinking it, swallowing it without chewing, his desperate hunger overriding all sense of proper eating.
“[Yes. This is the 112 Command Center. A report just came in to 112 in Deokdong-gun. A wife hasn’t returned home after leaving a few days ago. They said it doesn’t seem like a simple missing person case, so they asked us to relay it to the department currently in charge.]”
“Deokdong?” Jun-hyeok’s chopsticks, which had been frantically slurping ramen, stopped in mid-air.
His expression instantly changed, the hunger forgotten, and he quickly returned to his seat, his detective instincts kicking in.
The report received from the 112 Command Center was a Code 11 (missing person) report that occurred near the crime scene of an unsolved murder case.
This proximity was significant. Therefore, the Cold Case Team, which was specifically investigating cases related to Deokdong, was ordered to dispatch to the scene immediately.
“Yes. Understood. We’ll dispatch immediately and contact you again.”
As Han-gyeol hung up the phone, Jun-hyeok picked up his own receiver.
He wanted to report the newly received call to Hyun-cheol first, knowing his chief would demand an immediate update.
Han-gyeol, seeing Jun-hyeok’s outgoing call, grabbed his phone and opened his call log.
He didn’t have to scroll down much before the name of the person he needed to call appeared. Han-gyeol pressed the call button without hesitation.
For some reason, Jeong-rok, who rarely handed over the wheel, made Jung Yoon his driver.
He claimed his neck hurt from where Hyun-cheol had grabbed it, a playful excuse for his rare capitulation.
Although he didn’t seem particularly hurt, Jung Yoon, who always felt apologetic about Jeong-rok doing all the driving, readily took the wheel, a small gesture of reciprocity.
The car sped down the road, leaving the bustling city behind, and soon passed the familiar signpost for Damhong Village.
Jung Yoon, resting his left arm on the car window and touching his lips in thought, looked at the vast rice paddies stretching out on either side, a tranquil landscape.
Between the now completely familiar green waves of rice shoots, the water in the paddies shimmered transparently in the late afternoon sunlight, reflecting the sky above.
If he hadn’t come for such a somber reason, it would have been merely a pleasant sight, a calming rural tableau.
But it was unfortunate that a moment was approaching where he couldn’t simply perceive it as beautiful; the beauty was tainted by the grim reality of their work.
Jung Yoon deliberately shifted his gaze from the rice paddies to the sky.
The sky was gradually changing color, a canvas of oranges and purples, as if the sun was about to set behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the land.
“What are you thinking about?”
Jeong-rok, who had been quiet all along, spoke, his voice cutting through the silence.
Perhaps he had read Jung Yoon’s complicated feelings from his pensive expression.
Jung Yoon, whose hand slipped slightly on the steering wheel from the unexpected question, answered in a low voice.
“Every time I come here, I feel like the village is so beautiful.”
“And yet, some crazy bastard is ruining such a beautiful village, and honestly, I still don’t understand why everyone is keeping quiet,” Jeong-rok remarked, a hint of genuine frustration in his tone.
He had reclined the passenger seat far back, but now he sat up and pulled the passenger seat forward, adjusting himself to face Jung Yoon more directly.
Jung Yoon briefly glanced at him, then looked straight ahead again and continued speaking.
“My beloved family and acquaintances could get hurt. Just believing it won’t happen…”
“That’s why, probably.”
“…That’s why?”
Jung Yoon asked, prompting him to elaborate.
“They don’t want to believe that their beloved family or acquaintances did it. It’s scarier for the trust they’ve built among themselves to crumble than for property prices to drop,” Jeong-rok explained, his voice analytical, dissecting human nature.
He rolled down the car window.
A warm breeze swept into the car, carrying the scent of earth and growing things.
“But shouldn’t they prioritize thinking about the people who can never see their loved ones again?”
Jung Yoon pressed, a hint of indignation in his voice.
“Perhaps they can do that because they can’t even imagine how painful it is. Because they’ve never experienced it,” Jeong-rok replied, his voice softer now, tinged with a subtle understanding.
He knew it was unnecessary to say, but perhaps because of his somber mood, Jung Yoon didn’t stop, even knowing he was saying useless things, voicing his own internal conflict.
Yet, Jung Yoon didn’t look to the side.
He stubbornly kept his gaze forward as he spoke, unable to meet Jeong-rok’s eyes.
When his heart was weak, facing Jeong-rok’s face was frightening; it felt like an insurmountable task, a mirror reflecting his own vulnerabilities.
Silence settled in the car for a moment, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the rush of the wind.
Jung Yoon thought it was fortunate that Jeong-rok remained silent and pressed harder on the accelerator, eager to reach their destination.
He expected Jeong-rok’s reaction to his weakness at that moment, so he preferred that Jeong-rok just keep quiet, allowing him to collect his thoughts.
“How painful is it?”
Jeong-rok finally asked, his voice low, a question that hung heavy in the air, forcing Jung Yoon to confront the very emotion he was trying to avoid.
1. Code 11: Cases requiring top-priority dispatch due to the following reasons:
a. Protection of life, body, and property from crime.
b. Removal and prevention of serious public danger.
c. Swift apprehension of criminals.