At the unexpected words, Jung Yoon and Jeong Rok’s expressions became subtle, a silent shift indicating a deeper, unspoken understanding or perhaps a shared moment of intrigue.
“We checked all the footage from the time of purchase and before and after, but Jeong Yong-baek isn’t seen getting on the bus. It looked like he stopped at a restroom in the middle, but he wasn’t caught on CCTV coming out. A crowd suddenly gathered, but we’re going through everything again now.”
Jun-hyeok sighed heavily, his face weary, the lines of exhaustion etched around his eyes.
He buried his face in Han-gyeol’s shoulder, pretending to cry, his voice muffled as he complained that his eyes felt like they’d fall out from being forced to watch the videos right after returning from the search, emphasizing the sheer volume of mundane footage they had to sift through.
The fatigue was palpable, a heavy cloak draped over the entire team.
“…They say Jeong Yong-jun remembers it. Actually, ever since Jeong Yong-jun started frequenting the hospital and then joined this company, he completely stopped going that way.”
This new piece of information hung in the air, a potential breakthrough or another misleading thread in their complex investigation.
Jeong Rok, leaning against the table with a thoughtful posture, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard covered with crime scene photos and cryptic notes, turned to Jung Yoon.
Jung Yoon, ever meticulous, flipped through some documents, then, having absorbed the relevant information, closed them with a decisive snap and crossed his arms, his posture signaling readiness for a deeper dive.
“But what’s the significance of it being found in the cattle shed? Jeong Yong-gil closed his business two years ago, and if he hated it that much, it’s puzzling why he’d go there now of all times, when he really had no reason to.”
Jung Yoon’s questions cut to the core of the mystery, highlighting the inconsistencies that plagued the case.
The location of the body was a crucial detail, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit the broader picture.
“What if it’s a separate case from the Deokdong incident?”
Jeong Rok posed, introducing the possibility of a parallel crime, a darker, more convoluted narrative unfolding alongside the one they were already investigating.
“I’m not ruling out that thought, but while the method seems different, it’s also subtly the same. When we found Jeong Yong-baek’s body earlier, I asked, and they said they couldn’t be sure until they analyzed it, but they couldn’t rule out the possibility that the murder weapon is the same.”
Jung Yoon meticulously laid out the facts, the subtle similarities in the method suggesting a connection, even if the larger picture remained elusive.
The forensic details, though preliminary, hinted at a recurring pattern, a signature that might link the seemingly disparate cases.
“I think it’s the same guy too,” Jun-hyeok, ever the one for gut feelings, added, his voice low but firm.
Jeong Rok, deep in thought, turned and raised an eyebrow, a silent invitation for Jun-hyeok to elaborate.
Sensing his reaction, Jun-hyeok changed his posture, leaning forward and putting his index finger to the bridge of his nose, his customary gesture when he was about to deliver a pronouncement based on intuition.
“I just get it,” he stated with conviction, as if his instincts were a wellspring of undeniable truth.
“Bullshit. Then why don’t you go catch all those guys in the cabinet with your ‘gut feeling’?”
The sharp retort came from Jeong Rok, his sarcasm cutting through the tense atmosphere, momentarily breaking the serious mood.
Jun-hyeok mumbled meaningfully, staring at the whiteboard, perhaps plotting his next move or simply enjoying the verbal sparring.
Jung Yoon, deflated by the unexpected remark that punctured the gravity of the moment, shook his head in resignation.
Just then, a cold draft swept through the office from behind him, and sarcastic remarks loudly echoed through the office, signaling Hyeon-cheol’s arrival and his penchant for disruptive commentary.
“Ah… Section Chief! My gut feeling really isn’t a joke!”
Jun-hyeok protested, attempting to defend his unconventional approach.
“Go sell your ‘gut feelings,’ then. You’d be perfect for fertilizing eyes with your shit, you bastard.”
Hyeon-cheol, who had, without a moment’s hesitation, snatched Jeong Rok’s chair for himself, scoffed, his words laced with derision.
His presence immediately shifted the dynamic, injecting a dose of chaotic energy into the room.
“…Wow,” Han-gyeol murmured, covering his nose with his fingers and biting his lip, a silent plea to the universe to spare him from the impending explosion.
He knew what was coming.
He’s going to get hit…
Just as Jung Yoon’s sympathetic gaze, sensing misfortune, reached Han-gyeol, a large hand, swift and precise, chopped the back of Han-gyeol’s neck.
“Wanna die?”
The question hung in the air, a rhetorical challenge rather than a genuine inquiry.
“Ah, seriously! Isn’t this workplace harassment?”
Han-gyeol cried out, rubbing his neck, his voice a mixture of genuine pain and theatrical outrage.
“Want me to show you what real harassment is?”
The threat, delivered with a menacing grin, was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine.
“Why don’t you try it for once? These bastards, really.”
The table became a cacophony of voices, a familiar symphony of bickering and playful jabs.
Jung Yoon, smiling faintly as he watched the three bickering, suddenly looked at the quiet Jeong Rok.
He was lost in thought, focused as if he were in a world of his own with the whiteboard, the chaos of the office a distant hum.
After a moment of being concerned about Jeong Rok’s unusual silence, Jung Yoon ultimately stood up and approached him.
Only when he sensed a presence did Jeong Rok’s eyes move, a slight flicker acknowledging Jung Yoon’s approach.
“According to Ms. Go Ok-nam, Jeong Yong-baek hated the cattle shed, and only close friends would know that. He probably didn’t show it outside because it made money. In fact, when Jeong Yong-gil called, he’d often go and help. If the culprit assigned some meaning to killing Jeong Yong-baek, then I think there’s a reason why they chose the cattle shed as the disposal site for the body.”
Jung Yoon presented his theory, connecting the victim’s known dislikes to the crime scene, suggesting a deeper, more personal motive for the location.
“I also think it’s highly likely to be the same culprit, but unlike what Gi Jun-hyeok said, there was no body mutilation, which is usually the highest point of pleasure.”
Jeong Rok offered a nuanced perspective, acknowledging the similarities while also pointing out a significant difference in the modus operandi.
The absence of mutilation, a hallmark of the previous crimes, was a detail that couldn’t be overlooked.
“Did he choose not to, or couldn’t he?”
Jeong Rok’s lips, silent for a moment, parted, the question hanging in the air, weighted with implications.
His voice was heavy, burdened by the unsettling possibilities.
Jung Yoon’s gaze naturally shifted to the whiteboard, his eyes scanning the faces of past victims and the bodies of recently discovered victims.
His gaze, systematically moving across the whiteboard covered with crime scenes and details, stopped at Jeong Yong-baek’s face, which had just been added, a new addition to the grim gallery.
“That fucking bastard didn’t do it.”
He was seriously pondering Jeong Rok’s soliloquy, the quiet, almost profound moment of shared thought.
But then, an absurdly explicit curse suddenly came from right beside him, shattering the solemnity.
It was bewildering, a sudden shift in tone that was jarring and unexpected.
His face, which was about to darken with serious contemplation, became cold again, a mask of annoyance replacing the earlier gravity.
When Jung Yoon spun around, Jeong Rok, with a thuggish expression as if he had never been serious, met Jung Yoon’s eyes, his grin wide and unapologetic.
“If we just find Jeong Yong-baek’s confession letter here, it’d be perfect, damn bastard. As if I can’t catch him just because of this.”
Jeong Rok’s words were a mix of frustration and unwavering determination, his vulgarity a coping mechanism for the pressure of the case.
“Team Leader,” Jung Yoon interjected, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“It doesn’t seem like Jeong Yong-jun, does it?”
Jeong Rok continued, ignoring the interjection, his mind already moving to the next suspect.
Even Count Asura wouldn’t be like this, Jung Yoon thought, looking at Jeong Rok absurdly for arbitrarily changing his tone and mood.
He nodded, thinking it was fine as long as his mind seemed to be in order, even if his methods were… unorthodox.
“Actually, if Jeong Yong-jun were the culprit, I thought there would definitely be an accomplice… I was also considering the possibility of Jeong Yong-baek. Jeong Yong-jun’s trust and dependence on Jeong Yong-baek are considerable. I think he would do whatever he was told.”
Jung Yoon calmly stated his thoughts, his voice steady and rational, outlining the potential complicity of Jeong Yong-baek based on the known dynamics between the two.
It was the conclusion he reached when they recovered Jeong Yong-baek at the scene, a hypothesis solidified by further investigation.
“Unless Jeong Yong-baek asked to be killed, it seems difficult.”
Jeong Rok mused, considering the intricate web of possibilities.
“Even if he asked to be killed and was killed in the same way, it would be difficult to stick to the same disposal method without Jeong Yong-baek’s handling. It was cleanly handled without leaving a single fingerprint or other trace. I think the possibility is low unless Jeong Yong-jun is faking an intellectual disability.”
Jung Yoon calmly elaborated, adding layers of logical reasoning to his assessment.
Furthermore, the relationship between the two, as heard from Go Ok-nam, was stronger than expected, adding weight to his analysis.
In addition, Jeong Yong-jun didn’t know Na Yoon-joo, Jeong Yong-gil’s ex-wife, at all.
He didn’t even seem to know that Jeong Yong-baek was his half-brother.
Of course, Na Yoon-joo is missing, so it was difficult to link her to the current case.
But could she really be completely unrelated?
The question lingered, a subtle hint of doubt in his otherwise firm conclusion.
“Even if it’s not other victims, at least he definitely knew Jeong Yong-baek.”
Jung Yoon stated with conviction, solidifying one crucial link in the chain of events.
“That’s probably why the handling method with Kang Sang-ho was different too.”
Jeong Rok responded to Jung Yoon’s confident voice, his thoughts aligning with Jung Yoon’s conclusion.
Jeong Rok had been thinking something similar, a shared understanding of the killer’s likely motivation.
He might have known other victims, but the relationship wasn’t strong enough for emotions to hinder the murder.
However, there was a high probability that Jeong Yong-baek alone had an emotional exchange that could trigger something in the culprit, a deeper, more personal connection that distinguished his murder from the others.
Jeong Rok looked at Jung Yoon with satisfaction, a rare expression of approval, as Jung Yoon uttered exactly what he wanted to hear without being prompted.
Jung Yoon’s intuitive grasp of the case, his ability to articulate the unspoken theories, was a quality Jeong Rok deeply valued.
“What is it?”
Jung Yoon asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and suspicion, as Jeong Rok’s demeanor shifted once more.
Of course, Jeong Rok hadn’t considered how he’d look in Jung Yoon’s eyes, his actions often driven by impulse rather than calculated impression.
He opened his eyes cunningly, a mischievous glint in their depths, and smirked, the corners of his mouth turning up in a knowing grin.
“Sexy,” he purred, his voice low and teasing.
“I’m seriously going to sue you,” Jung Yoon retorted, his voice chillingly calm, a clear warning.
He gave a chilling smile towards Jeong Rok, who couldn’t hold back his nonsense, especially after they had just been getting along so well, a testament to their unpredictable dynamic.
“Oh my, what a mess. One guy harassing his junior, the other beating and bullying the youngest. Wow, the cold case team is quite the household, isn’t it? Huh?”
Hyeon-cheol interjected, his booming voice filling the office.
He had been keeping a close eye on the two, observing their volatile yet effective partnership.
He was satisfied that things were going well, but then suddenly yelled as their conversation took a strange turn and stopped abruptly at the edge of a cliff, unable to resist commenting on their antics.
Jung Yoon, feeling awkward at being called out, quickly returned to his seat, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
Hyeon-cheol glared at both Jeong Rok and Jung Yoon equally, without discrimination, a stern, disapproving gaze that managed to silence even the most boisterous of them.
“Seo Han-gyeol, pulled up Jeong Yong-baek’s recent call records, figuring out who he talked to. Mark any unusual numbers separately.”
As soon as Jung Yoon sat down, Jeong Rok turned back to business, placing his chin on the table, his earlier playful demeanor replaced by sharp focus.
He seemed to have reached a conclusion, as he immediately gave instructions to Han-gyeol, his voice crisp and authoritative.
“Yes, understood,” Han-gyeol replied, already moving to comply.
“Gi Jun-hyeok, you go out there and check his movements—where he went and when he arrived in Deokdong, as much as possible. Check the tollgate CCTVs for entries into Deokdong. If he got in somehow, it has to be by his own car now.”
Jeong Rok continued, his instructions clear and concise, leaving no room for ambiguity.
Jun-hyeok simply nodded half-heartedly, scribbling something on a piece of paper, already mentally mapping out his next steps.
After giving instructions, Jeong Rok looked around the office, then picked up his car keys with a decisive motion.
Jung Yoon, who had been sitting quietly, waiting for his turn, suddenly jumped up, his instincts kicking in, and blocked Jeong Rok’s path.
“What about me?”
Jung Yoon demanded, his voice reflecting his eagerness to be involved. “You’re coming with me. What are you asking for?”
Jeong Rok replied, a smirk playing on his lips, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Jeong Rok dangled the car keys in front of Jung Yoon’s face, which had turned cold with irritation.
Jung Yoon smirked, just with his mouth, a silent acknowledgment of the impending annoyance, then snatched the car keys from Jeong Rok’s grasp, muttering under his breath, “Han-gyeol, if I ever get handcuffed, I’d want you to be the one to do it,” a morbid joke that only someone in their line of work could appreciate.
“Huh? Suddenly?”
Han-gyeol asked, genuinely surprised, his eyes wide.
Jung Yoon picked up his phone from the table.
Han-gyeol gasped, covering his mouth with his hand, a silent plea for Jung Yoon to reconsider.
“No, why would you let that bastard do it? That good thing. I’ll do it.”
Just then, Jeong Rok, without a hint of tact, leaned his face close to Jung Yoon’s, pleading with an almost childish earnestness.
“Please, let me do it.”
His eyes, brimming with anticipation, sparkled under the office lights, reflecting his peculiar sense of humor.
“Well, I wish, but I don’t think it’ll be possible,” Jung Yoon replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Oh, why!”
Jeong Rok stomped his feet, oblivious to his own size, his frustration evident.
Jung Yoon, feeling sorry for the detectives who would be downstairs at this hour and might overhear their strange conversation, added: “If I ever get handcuffed, it means I’ll have finally killed the team leader.”
“Oh…”
Jeong Rok exclaimed with admiration, a peculiar look of appreciation on his face.
“Wow, I’m cheering for you! I’ll write you an amazing petition!”
Jun-hyeok, who had somehow gotten up and moved towards the door, held up both thumbs and shook them, joining in the strange camaraderie.
“Me too, me too.”
Jeong Rok chimed in, his excitement growing.
He even raised his hand in excitement, which Jung Yoon couldn’t tolerate, so he grabbed Jeong Rok by the collar, a final gesture of playful exasperation.
“Let’s go. Let’s go.”