“What the hell?”
The exclamation, though not explicitly stated, hung in the air, a silent question from the narrator to the audience, witnessing the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Of course, the narrator, in their detached observation, didn’t consider how it would look in Jung Yoon’s eyes, a testament to the chaotic, often oblivious nature of Jeong Rok.
Jeong Rok opened his eyes slyly, a mischievous glint dancing within them, and grinned, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slow, deliberate smirk.
“Sexy,” he drawled, the single word dripping with a provocative charm that was entirely Jeong Rok’s own.
His nonchalant confidence was both infuriating and undeniably captivating.
“I’m seriously going to sue you,” Jung Yoon countered, his voice a chilling whisper that carried far more weight than a shout.
This wasn’t an empty threat; it was a promise, delivered with a smile that offered no warmth, only a stark warning.
Jung Yoon gave a chilling smile towards Jeong Rok, who, unable to resist the opportunity for further mischief, couldn’t stand it and started spouting nonsense, especially after they’d just been getting along well.
Their dynamic was a volatile blend of professional respect and personal antagonism, a constant push and pull that defined their interactions.
“Oh, for crying out loud, look at them go. One harassing a junior, the other beating up and bullying the youngest. Wow, the cold case team was quite a family, huh?”
Hyeon-cheol’s booming voice cut through the air, a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration.
He had been closely observing the two, their unorthodox methods and chaotic energy a constant source of both frustration and amusement for him.
He was satisfied that things were going well, as the investigation was indeed progressing despite their antics, but then suddenly yelled, his patience reaching its limit, as their conversation, which had been flowing so well, suddenly took an odd turn and stopped abruptly at the edge of a cliff.
He couldn’t resist injecting himself into their bickering.
Jung Yoon, feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment at being caught in the act, quickly returned to his seat, a subtle shift in his posture indicating his discomfort.
Hyeon-cheol glared at both Jeong Rok and Jung Yoon equally, without discrimination, a testament to his impartial annoyance.
“Seo Han-gyeol, get Jeong Yong-baek’s recent call records, figuring out who he talked to. Mark any unusual numbers separately.”
As soon as Jung Yoon settled back into his seat, Jeong Rok pivoted, his attention immediately snapping back to the case.
He leaned forward, placing his chin on the table, a clear sign of deep concentration.
He seemed to have reached a conclusion, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to align in his mind, as he immediately gave instructions to Han-gyeol, his voice sharp and decisive.
“Yes, understood,” Han-gyeol affirmed, already reaching for his equipment.
“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’s directives were precise, leaving no room for error or misinterpretation.
Jun-hyeok simply nodded half-heartedly, a gesture of casual agreement, while he scribbled something on a piece of paper, his mind already processing the information and planning his approach.
After giving instructions, Jeong Rok surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over the team, before his eyes landed on his car keys.
He picked them up with a practiced ease, ready to move. Jung Yoon, who had been sitting quietly, patiently waiting for his turn, suddenly jumped up, his instincts propelling him forward, and blocked Jeong Rok’s path, anticipating his next move.
“What about me?”
Jung Yoon demanded, his tone betraying a suppressed eagerness, a desire to be directly involved in the action.
“You’re coming with me. What are you asking for?”
Jeong Rok countered, a playful smirk twisting his lips, as if Jung Yoon’s question was utterly redundant.
Jeong Rok dangled the car keys in front of Jung Yoon’s face, the metallic glint catching the office lights.
Jung Yoon’s expression had turned cold with irritation, a familiar mask when dealing with Jeong Rok’s antics.
Jung Yoon smirked, a brief, humorless twist of his mouth, then snatched the car keys with a decisive motion, his movements swift and practiced.
He mumbled self-deprecatingly under his breath, “Han-gyeol, if I ever get handcuffed, I’d want you to be the one to do it.”
It was a dark joke, a morbid wish uttered with a weary acceptance of the risks they faced daily.
“Huh? Suddenly?”
Han-gyeol gasped, genuinely taken aback by the unexpected request.
Jung Yoon picked up his phone from the table, his movements precise.
Han-gyeol covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement.
“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, his plea earnest and almost childlike.
“Please, let me do it.”
His eyes, brimming with anticipation, sparkled under the office lights, reflecting his peculiar delight in such morbid humor.
“Well, I wish, but I don’t think it’ll be possible,” Jung Yoon replied, a faint smile playing on his lips, hinting at a deeper, unstated reason.
“Oh, why!”
Jeong Rok stomped his feet, a sound like a large child throwing a tantrum, oblivious to his own imposing size.
Jung Yoon, feeling a pang of sympathy for the detectives who would undoubtedly 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.”
The bluntness of the statement was designed to be both shocking and, for those who knew their dynamic, darkly humorous.
“Oh….” Jeong Rok exclaimed, a genuine sense of admiration in his voice, his eyes widening slightly.
“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, his interest piqued by the morbid turn of the conversation, held up both thumbs and shook them enthusiastically. “Me too, me too.”
Jeong Rok chimed in, his excitement evident.
He even raised his hand in excitement, which Jung Yoon couldn’t tolerate, their playful banter reaching its peak, so he grabbed Jeong Rok by the collar, a final, exasperated gesture.
“Let’s go. Let’s go.”
Jung Yoon pulled out and turned on his zoom light, its beam cutting through the gloom.
The interior of the cattle shed, which had been thoroughly messed up during the morning search, was starkly illuminated, appearing ominously, each disturbed straw and overturned bucket telling a silent story of forensic examination.
“It’s like this here, and where Seo Jun-shim was found… it’d be hard unless you know this area well.”
Jung Yoon mused aloud, his voice low and contemplative, recognizing a pattern in the remote, difficult-to-access locations.
“Since he knew that CCTV was installed there, he’s someone who’s been coming and going from the village recently,” Jeong Rok added, his analytical mind already sifting through the implications.
The knowledge of the CCTV’s existence was a crucial detail, pointing to a local connection.
“When did they say the CCTV was installed?”
Jung Yoon inquired, seeking to establish a timeline.
“They said it was when contractors started coming and going because of the redevelopment issue here, so it’s probably been about two years.”
The information painted a picture of a murderer who was not only familiar with the area but also with recent developments.
Jung Yoon, having concluded there was nothing more to see inside the cattle shed, turned and headed outside, the stale air of the interior giving way to the crisp night.
Dry, twisted branches crunched under his feet, the brittle sound echoing in the stillness.
Jeong Rok moved, following the sound, his movements mirroring Jung Yoon’s quiet determination.
The two headed towards the plastic greenhouse next to the cattle shed, a nondescript structure that offered little in the way of immediate clues.
Beside the greenhouse was a steep uphill path directly connected to the mountain, a challenging terrain that spoke to the killer’s intimate knowledge of the land.
The area around the greenhouse, filled with dense trees and unmanaged weeds, also bore traces of being dug up by forensic teams, evidence of their thorough, yet thus far fruitless, search.
When they opened the door, the space inside the greenhouse was starkly divided as if by a line: to the left, unused hay was stacked high, creating a rustic, earthy scent that filled the air, and to the right, an empty, unused desk and chairs were haphazardly placed, creating a sense of abandoned purpose.
As Jeong Yong-gil had said, he hadn’t come here much after closing the business, so it wasn’t well-maintained, the dust and disarray speaking of neglect.
Jung Yoon instinctively covered his nose at the potent, earthy smell of hay, which seemed to breathe out from the piled stacks, a testament to its long undisturbed presence.
Jeong Rok surveyed the greenhouse extensively, his gaze sweeping over every detail, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
His gaze stopped at the top, drawn to something specific.
There were light bulbs.
Four in a row.
He looked around again, his attention now fixed on the details of the interior.
The desk, discarded equipment, a tangled water hose, and even the sacks were all covered in thick, undisturbed dust, a visual record of their disuse.
Jeong Rok’s gaze went up again, his focus returning to the light bulbs.
Jung Yoon, whose vision was obscured by the pervasive darkness, clicked on his zoom light, its beam cutting through the gloom.
But then, there was a sudden pop sound, a faint, almost imperceptible noise, and the inside of the greenhouse lit up brightly, a shocking burst of illumination in the dark expanse.
“…What is it?”
Jung Yoon murmured, startled.
His vision, which had suddenly brightened, made him look up without thinking, and then he quickly turned his head away from the piercing light, his eyes unaccustomed to the sudden brilliance.
Jeong Rok glanced at Jung Yoon, a knowing look on his face, then flicked the switch down with a thunk, and the light disappeared, plunging the greenhouse back into immediate darkness.
Jung Yoon turned off the zoom light he had turned on and put it in his pocket, the click of the switch a small punctuation in the quiet.
A rustling sound was heard as Jung Yoon stepped on the hay, the dry stalks crunching under his weight.
Jeong Rok flipped the light switch up again. With a thunk, the interior brightened once more, confirming their discovery.
“Did you confirm the light works?”
Jeong Rok asked, his voice low and precise.
“I’ll confirm with the forensic chief,” Jung Yoon replied, already planning his next steps.
“Can we narrow down the days electricity was used here? Only the days power was consumed.”
Jeong Rok pressed, recognizing the significance of this detail.
“I’ll find out,” Jung Yoon confirmed, already formulating his plan.
Jung Yoon, his back to Jeong Rok, sent a message to Han-gyeol with the request, his fingers flying across the screen.
Putting his phone in his pocket, Jung Yoon took out gloves and showed them to Jeong Rok, a silent invitation to continue the search.
Jeong Rok, who had been continuously observing the light bulbs, came over, took the gloves from Jung Yoon, and then examined the surroundings, his keen eyes missing nothing.
“The light bulbs don’t seem old,” he observed, his voice thoughtful.
“That means someone changed them.” Jung Yoon replied, stating the obvious implication.
“Jeong Yong-gil said he hasn’t been here in quite a while, so he’s not the owner of the cattle shed… If electricity was used, there would be bills, right? How could he not know?”
Jeong Rok pondered, the inconsistencies nagging at him.
“I’ll look into the name on the account, payment history, and payer,” Jung Yoon confirmed, already on top of the administrative details.
***
From then on, Jung Yoon and Jeong Rok actively began searching the greenhouse again, their movements more purposeful.
They decided their positions with rock-paper-scissors; Jung Yoon, who won, took the right side, a small smirk on his face, and Jeong Rok, who lost, took the left side with the hay pile, a slight frown marring his features.
“Are you really going to do it, Team Leader?”
Jung Yoon couldn’t resist asking, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“The world of competition is cold. Do I look like such a petty bastard?”
Jeong Rok retorted, though his expression suggested he might indeed be a little petty.
“Sure, then.”
Jung Yoon conceded, allowing himself a small, private laugh.
Jeong Rok then made a very sly and unsettling expression, a mischievous glint in his eyes that promised trouble.
Jung Yoon took out a mask, threw it to him, and immediately turned around, already donning his own.
Jung Yoon also put on a mask, the white fabric a stark contrast to his dark hair.
Jeong Rok, covering his face with the mask he’d received, let out a small, inappropriate “Tsk,” a sound of mock displeasure, and also turned his back.
The diligent work of these two, precisely divided and with their backs to each other, a silent agreement to their unspoken roles, continued until the late hours of the morning, their figures moving tirelessly in the dim light of the greenhouse.
“Ah, shit. This is so hard.”
Jeong Rok groaned, collapsing into a corner of the greenhouse, his body finally giving way to exhaustion.
His hair was drenched in sweat, plastered to his forehead.
Annoyed, he pushed his hair back completely from his forehead, then slid to the side, seeking a more comfortable position.
“Ah, seriously,” Jung Yoon muttered, his own voice tinged with fatigue.
Jung Yoon was equally hot, the humid air of the greenhouse clinging to his skin.
He took off the sweatshirt he was wearing over his short-sleeved shirt, revealing his bare arms, and quickly approached Jeong Rok, sliding his foot under Jeong Rok’s head, offering an impromptu pillow.
“This is helping, right?”
Jeong Rok asked, his voice muffled.
“It’s probably cleaner than the ground,” Jung Yoon replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“If possible, hands or knees would be better,” Jeong Rok suggested, pushing his luck.
“As if those would be clean…”
Jung Yoon retorted, his voice trailing off as he contemplated the absurdity of the request.
Jung Yoon extended his hands and body towards Jeong Rok, who was lying on his side looking up at him, and pulled off his gloves, the damp rubber clinging to his skin.
Pop, pop! went the sound of the rubber detaching from the gloves, stuck to his sweaty hands, a small, oddly satisfying sound.
He had come with a glimmer of hope, a faint expectation of finding something, but the reality of finding nothing left him feeling empty, a familiar sensation in their line of work.
Jung Yoon gently lifted Jeong Rok’s head with his foot, then quickly sat down beside him, resting his butt on the ground, a familiar comfort in their shared fatigue.
Jeong Rok, who had briefly moved up from the recoil of Jung Yoon’s foot, settled back down and leaned his head on Jung Yoon’s shoulder, a casual gesture of reliance.
Jung Yoon, who didn’t push him away, a silent acceptance of the gesture, wiped the bridge of his nose with his sleeve, the fabric damp with sweat, and looked at the thoroughly ransacked greenhouse, its disarray a testament to their exhaustive search.
“He definitely came here,” Jung Yoon stated, his voice firm, his intuition unwavering despite the lack of physical evidence.
The cattle shed was located in a secluded corner of the village, a quiet place that had been untouched by anyone for a long time.
The density of the road network was almost non-existent, making it an ideal place for concealment.
It was a difficult place to find immediately without a good sense of direction.
It was a place the police wouldn’t have known about if they hadn’t found clues about the weapon, its obscurity adding to the challenge of the investigation.
It had to be someone who knew the area well and also knew of this place’s existence.
Furthermore, they possessed the cleverness to use their knowledge of the geography to choose a body disposal site where the chances of discovery were low, a chilling testament to the killer’s cunning.
Someone who would even replace light bulbs in a place abandoned by its owner.
Jung Yoon’s gaze, fixed on the piercing light of the bulbs, sharpened, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes.
“You said there’s a high probability that the weapon used in the previous case and this one is the same, right?”
Jung Yoon prompted, seeking clarification.
“I said the stab wounds were similar. There’s no guarantee that the same weapon was used then,” Jeong Rok replied, his voice measured, highlighting the distinction.
“Regardless, that means he’s someone who knows what that weapon is, doesn’t it?”
Jung Yoon pressed, his logic unwavering.
“That doesn’t mean it’s the same culprit. It’s hard to rule out the possibility of an imitator.”
Jeong Rok countered, presenting an alternative theory.
Jung Yoon glared briefly at Jeong Rok, who wasn’t agreeing with him even once, his frustration evident in the subtle tightening of his jaw, and rubbed his furrowed brow with his hand, a gesture of exasperation.
“Detailed information about the weapon was never covered by the media. Among those investigating, only relevant personnel know about it. So, that means there’s an imitator among them, or at least someone who leaked information. Do you really think so?”
Jung Yoon, with downcast eyes, spoke rapidly, his words a precise articulation of his logical deduction.
The words coming from his mouth treated Jeong Rok as a trashy colleague or someone he suspected, a cold, clinical assessment that showed no hesitation in such remarks.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Jeong Rok challenged, his gaze unwavering.
However, Jeong Rok wasn’t offended or unjustly accused by Jung Yoon’s gaze.
He had, in fact, somewhat considered that possibility, a testament to his own cynical worldview.
While Jung Yoon would suspect everyone within a possible range and delve into it if there was a suspicious point, Jeong Rok tended to suspect most people outside of himself, regardless of whether there was a suspicious point or not, a characteristic of his deeply ingrained skepticism.
“You say unsettling things so casually,” Jung Yoon remarked, a hint of weariness in his voice.
“Do you think I’m famous for no reason? This level of fame doesn’t just stick to anyone.”
Jeong Rok countered, a note of arrogance in his tone.
“Good for you,” Jung Yoon deadpanned.
“Right? So stick close to me and get a lot out of it.”
Jeong Rok, who had casually tossed out a remark that was neither a joke nor serious, his words delivered with a carefree nonchalance, leaned his back against the hay pile and slumped down, lying flat, a sigh escaping his lips.
The musty smell quickly tickled his nose, a pungent reminder of their surroundings.
Jung Yoon clicked his tongue at Jeong Rok, who was sniffing and focusing on the surrounding smells, a silent gesture of annoyance, and began looking around him, his attention still on the task at hand.
Jeong Rok’s eyes, which had been leisurely sitting, fixed on Jung Yoon’s busy back as he worked alone, a silent appreciation for his partner’s diligence.
Why is it that when he works so hard, I don’t want to leave him alone?
The rhetorical question hung in the air, a fleeting thought in Jeong Rok’s mind.
Indeed, Woo Jung Yoon has a knack for provoking Jeong Rok’s sadism and interest, a peculiar fascination that went beyond professional curiosity.
Whether his eyes were open or not, he would somehow get on Jeong Rok’s nerves and eventually make him focus on him, a constant, low-level hum of irritation and fascination.
Suddenly, Jung Yoon seemed unforgivable, a whimsical shift in Jeong Rok’s mood. Jeong Rok, overlaying slyness onto his face, which had somehow turned cold, a mischievous glint in his eyes, slipped his arm into the hay pile.
Then, he rummaged around to grab a suitable handful to throw, a childish impulse taking over.
Because of this, the hay above his head shook slightly, a subtle vibration that went unnoticed by Jeong Rok.
However, focused on Jung Yoon, he didn’t have time to check, his attention entirely consumed by his intended target.
Thanks to that, Jung Yoon was the first to notice the precariousness of the hay pile, his keen senses picking up on the subtle shift.
Jung Yoon turned his gaze and, upon seeing a swaying shadow above the greenhouse, a large, ominous shape, turned his head in surprise.
Then he saw Jeong Rok with his arm inside the hay pile, realizing the immediate danger.
Caught by Jung Yoon, Jeong Rok gave an awkward smile, a sheepish grin that was entirely unconvincing, and spread his fingers wide inside the hay pile, trying to grab more, oblivious to the impending collapse.
That’s when it happened.
Something thumped against Jeong Rok’s fingertips, a solid, unexpected contact.