At the sudden mention of longevity, Jung Yoon looked at him.
“There’s no order to go. Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Oh, come on, that won’t do.”
“If you’re going to say something strange again, why don’t you try finding what you found earlier?”
“OLDFEL”
As he was pushed back, letting out a small moan, Jeong Rok looked back again.
“Sorry. Are you hurt?”
His eyes were full of concern, but somehow, the corners of his eyes curved down in a way that felt annoyingly smug.
“…It’s fine.”
“No, let me see. Where and how…”
“Shut up and just get out what you found.”
Jung Yoon finally blurted out harsh words to Jeong Rok, who had stopped what he was doing and was reaching out to him, knowing it was insubordination.
He was already dying of embarrassment, and this guy didn’t even think it was strange to be acting like this?
Jung Rok pouted his lips regretfully and turned back around as Jung Yoon glared at him with cold eyes.
The air between them, already thick with unspoken tension, seemed to crackle with Jung Yoon’s barely contained fury.
He adjusted his stance, feeling the lingering ache from Jeong Rok’s unexpected shove, and mentally cursed the situation that had brought them to this bizarre and utterly humiliating moment.
His cheeks burned, a deep flush spreading across his face that had nothing to do with the stuffy air of the cattle shed and everything to do with Jeong Rok’s utterly infuriating antics.
“Oh, I found it.”
Jeong Rok, who had been focused on finding the item, soon pulled something out with a flourish.
Jung Yoon propped up his upper body with his knee, preventing him from falling over from the recoil.
The object held in Jeong Rok’s shaking hand also trembled.
The dust motes danced in the sparse shafts of light filtering through the grimy windows, illuminating the absurdity of the scene.
Jeong Rok’s triumph was palpable, a wide, almost childish grin plastered across his face as he held up his ‘discovery’.
Jung Yoon’s gaze narrowed, his earlier anger giving way to a morbid curiosity, a sense of dread slowly coiling in his gut.
He knew, with an unwelcome certainty, that whatever Jeong Rok had found, it wouldn’t be anything good.
Jeong Rok’s expression hardened instantly as he held the object up above his head with his pincers-like grip.
Jung Yoon, who had been squinting and craning his head forward, also stopped moving.
A hush fell over them, the only sounds were the rustling of the straw beneath their feet and the frantic beat of Jung Yoon’s own heart.
The object, silhouetted against the dim light, seemed to pulse with an ominous significance.
It wasn’t just its peculiar shape or the dried residue; it was the way Jeong Rok’s face had transformed, mirroring Jung Yoon’s growing apprehension.
The playful smugness had vanished, replaced by a grim realization that settled over them like a shroud.
At first, it looked like plastic.
It was thicker than a finger, and too oddly shaped to be a balloon.
The opaque object had traces of milky white liquid dried onto it.
Jung Yoon felt a cold dread creep up his spine.
His mind, usually so sharp and analytical, struggled to process the implications of what they were seeing.
Every fiber of his being screamed for it to be something, anything, other than what his instincts were screaming it was.
The smell of the cattle shed, previously merely an unpleasant background, now seemed to intensify, making his stomach churn.
“I need someone to tell me this isn’t what I’m thinking.”
“If you’re thinking the same thing as me, then I think it is.”
No sooner had Jung Yoon spoken than Jeong Rok squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth.
He deliberately made his gripping hand tremble, shuddering.
Jung Yoon frantically pulled out a Ziploc bag from his back pocket and unfolded it.
The sudden shift in Jeong Rok’s demeanor, from gleeful discovery to abject disgust, confirmed Jung Yoon’s worst fears.
A wave of nausea washed over him, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to focus.
This was evidence, no matter how revolting.
His training kicked in, overriding his personal revulsion.
He had to secure it, analyze it, understand its role in this twisted puzzle they were trying to solve.
The plastic bag, a mundane object, suddenly felt like a vital tool in containing a potent and disturbing truth.
His fingers fumbled slightly with the zipper, the urgency of the moment making him clumsy.
“Just a moment, don’t drop it.”
“Oh, please, I feel like my fingers are rotting.”
“Your fingers won’t rot from holding a condom. Here.”
As Jung Yoon held out the opened bag, Jeong Rok spread his fingers.
The solidified condom fell vertically into the plastic bag. Jung Yoon quickly and carefully sealed it, then persistently stared over Jeong Rok’s shoulder.
The exchange was clipped, efficient, betraying the underlying tension and revulsion both men felt.
Jeong Rok’s theatrics, while irritating, served to underscore the sheer unpleasantness of the discovery.
Jung Yoon, ever the pragmatist, was already thinking steps ahead, visualizing the lab tests, the potential leads, the faces of potential suspects.
This single, vile object held the key to unlocking something significant, a thread that could unravel the entire knot of this investigation.
The thought, while grim, brought a flicker of grim satisfaction.
“There might be more.”
“If you’re going to store semen, you should do it properly to the very end. How could someone be worse than a dog…”
“I’ll find it. Move aside.”
“Is he crazy?”
Just as Jung Yoon was about to reach out, Jeong Rok pushed him away.
Jung Yoon looked at him, bewildered, having been pushed so suddenly. Jeong Rok, who had been making such a fuss about how dirty it was just moments ago, began digging through the pile of straw as if nothing had happened.
The blatant contradiction in Jeong Rok’s behavior was astounding.
One moment, he was recoiling in exaggerated disgust, the next, he was plunging his hands into the very filth he claimed to abhor.
Jung Yoon watched, a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration warring within him.
Jeong Rok was unpredictable, infuriatingly so, but he was also undeniably effective.
His unconventional methods, however bizarre, often yielded results.
The straw, once a mere bed for livestock, now seemed to hold a sinister secret, a repository of hidden depravity.
After a moment, Jeong Rok began cursing, “You f***ing this, you f***ing that,” pulling out one used condom after another.
Then, suddenly, he let out a shriek of rage, “Argh!,” and raised both his outstretched hands above his head.
The air filled with Jeong Rok’s escalating expletives, a strange symphony of frustration and disgust.
Each discovery, another condom, another testament to someone’s grotesque actions, seemed to fuel his outrage.
Jung Yoon, despite his own revulsion, couldn’t help but feel a chilling sense of dread.
The sheer volume of these objects suggested a pattern, a disturbing habit, rather than an isolated incident.
The implications were horrifying, pointing to a perpetrator with a deeply unsettling disregard for human dignity.
The search intensified, each rustle of straw a potential harbinger of another grim find.
The small, enclosed space of the shed seemed to shrink around them, amplifying the oppressive atmosphere.
His face, filled with joy like a wild ginseng digger who had just unearthed a treasure, was covered in broken straw.
And in his hands, held high above his head, was a red-lidded, book-sized metal storage box. Its lid was open.
The sudden shift in Jeong Rok’s demeanor, from furious disgust to elated triumph, was jarring.
His grimy face, adorned with bits of straw, was alight with an almost manic glee.
The sight was undeniably absurd, yet the object he held, a seemingly innocuous Christmas-themed tin, immediately grabbed Jung Yoon’s attention.
The open lid, a gaping maw, promised further, perhaps even more unsettling, revelations.
A tremor of anticipation, mixed with an equal measure of apprehension, ran through Jung Yoon.
This wasn’t just a random find; this was a deliberate concealment, suggesting a level of planning and intent that elevated the stakes of their investigation considerably.
The storage box looked like a Christmas gift box, with trees, Santa, Rudolph, and snowflakes drawn all over its four sides.
Inside, two unused condoms were wedged between the corners, stuck to the bottom, and above them was a separate, inserted box that seemed to divide the space.
The festive exterior of the box created a grotesque contrast with its disturbing contents.
The innocent imagery of Christmas, of warmth and joy, was utterly defiled by the presence of the condoms, both used and unused.
Jung Yoon felt a chill that had nothing to do with the dampness of the shed.
This wasn’t just a random discard; it was a deliberate, almost ritualistic, act of concealment.
The internal division of the box suggested a perverse sense of order, a macabre organization of someone’s darkest secrets.
Both men’s faces hardened instantly as they leaned their heads together to examine the inside of the box.
The space, which looked like it had been divided by cutting a box and inserting it, had milky white liquid dried in patches, visible at a glance.
In addition, one nearly empty used condom was wedged between the metal storage box and the inserted box.
The proximity of their heads, the shared, grim discovery, forged a silent, unspoken understanding between them.
The sight within the box was even more disturbing than the initial find.
The dried liquid, the nearly empty condom, all pointed to a continuous, deliberate use of the box for illicit purposes.
It was a cache, a storage unit for a perpetrator’s dark activities, a chilling testament to their depravity.
The festive outer shell now seemed to mock them, a cruel joke played by a twisted mind.
“…What the f*** is all this?”
Jeong Rok snarled, his face twisted in a fierce grimace, and muttered in a low voice.
His eyes moved to the condoms he had picked up.
In no way did they look like anything other than items that had fallen out when this box was opened.
His voice, usually so flippant, was now laced with a raw, guttural anger that Jung Yoon rarely heard.
The question, while rhetorical, echoed the unspoken horror they both felt.
The implications of this discovery were immense, far-reaching.
It wasn’t just a single piece of evidence; it was a collection, a pattern of behavior laid bare.
The discarded condoms, once simply trash, now took on a terrifying significance, direct links to the unknown perpetrator.
“What do you mean? It’s DNA.”
Jung Yoon, who had also looked quite shocked, quickly regained his composure.
Perhaps it was because the smell of the straw pile from the cattle shed had permeated his body and saturated his nose, making him half-crazy.
He forced himself to be pragmatic, to focus on the objective reality of the situation.
The revulsion was still there, a knot in his stomach, but his professional instincts demanded clarity, analysis.
This wasn’t just “sperm” to him; it was DNA, irrefutable evidence that could lead them directly to the person responsible.
The technical term helped to distance him from the visceral disgust, allowing him to see the strategic value of their find.
The evidence he found in that moment was, for Jung Yoon, like a sliver of light at the end of a dark tunnel, or like finding a forgotten 50,000 won bill in his pocket.
He didn’t know if the owner of one, three, or perhaps even more DNA samples would be the culprit, but it was clear that his sharp intuition had touched his primal instincts.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, a powerful mixture of hope and determination.
This was the break they had been waiting for, the tangible link that could transform their nebulous suspicions into concrete action.
The grim reality of the situation was still present, but this discovery offered a path forward, a chance to bring a perpetrator to justice.
The weight of the investigation, which had felt so heavy moments before, now seemed to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose.
“You don’t think there’ll be anything else?”
Jung Yoon, who had no choice but to carefully pick up what he could hold, stood up.
He awkwardly looked around at the unintentionally messed-up surroundings, and Jeong Rok, who had followed suit, suddenly held out his palm.
The question hung in the air, a tacit acknowledgement of the potential for more disturbing finds.
The shed, once a place of mundane farm activity, now felt like a crime scene, every corner a potential hiding place for more secrets.
Jung Yoon’s movements were precise, his hands careful as he gathered the evidence, each piece a silent testament to the darkness they were uncovering.
He surveyed the chaotic scene, the overturned straw, the scattered debris, and felt a strange mix of accomplishment and unease.
“Give it to me.”
“What?”
“That.”
“This? Why?”
Jung Yoon, though finding it strange, obediently handed the metal storage box to Jeong Rok.
After all, they came in the same car, and neither of them had anything to put it in…
The request was unexpected, yet Jung Yoon complied without much thought.
In the chaos of the moment, logistics often dictated actions.
They were a team, and securing the evidence was paramount, regardless of who physically held it.
The casualness of the exchange belied the gravity of the object being transferred, a small but significant detail in the larger unfolding narrative.
“Things like this are for the team leader to handle.”
“…Ah.”
Jeong Rok, who had easily picked up the not-so-large storage box with just his thumb and forefinger, turned and took a picture.
A faint smile touched Jung Yoon’s lips as he quietly watched Jeong Rok, who was covered in straw but had become serious.
The revelation of Jeong Rok’s underlying motive, the seemingly arbitrary act of taking possession of the evidence, was surprisingly endearing.
It was a glimpse into the complexities of Jeong Rok’s character, a subtle acknowledgment of his professional pride and perhaps, a touch of his desire for credit.
Jung Yoon, usually so guarded, found himself mildly amused, a flicker of warmth cutting through the grimness of the situation.
It was a familiar dynamic, one he had encountered before in their work, but somehow, with Jeong Rok, it felt different, less about ego and more about a strange, quirky sense of duty.
Was he thinking he found it himself, or was it the mentality of a team leader needing to take credit?
Having experienced this occasionally since starting this work, it wasn’t new, but it felt remarkably fresh coming from Moon Jeong Rok, of all people.
The subtle nuances of Jeong Rok’s actions, the unexpected earnestness beneath his usual bluster, continued to surprise Jung Yoon.
It wasn’t a blatant power grab, but a quiet, almost shy assertion of his role.
Jung Yoon found himself observing Jeong Rok with a renewed interest, a curious detachment from his usual frustrations.
The dynamics of their partnership, while often contentious, were undeniably effective, and in these moments, he felt a strange sense of camaraderie.
The problem was that Jung Yoon didn’t feel bad about it at all.
Jeong Rok seemed embarrassed himself, actively taking photos of the scene, which surprisingly made Jung Yoon think he looked cute.
This unexpected softening of Jung Yoon’s usual irritation was a testament to the strange chemistry between them.
Jeong Rok’s awkward attempts at professional decorum, coupled with his genuine disgust at the evidence, painted a complex and oddly appealing picture.
Jung Yoon found himself caught off guard by his own reaction, a flicker of amusement and even affection replacing his usual exasperation.
It was a subtle shift, but a significant one in their evolving relationship.
“Your expression is still… bothered.”
Jeong Rok, who had been bustling about, urging them to finish up quickly, suddenly stopped and looked at Jung Yoon.
Jung Yoon was still intently watching Jeong Rok.
The abrupt halt in Jeong Rok’s movements, his direct gaze, broke Jung Yoon’s reverie.
He realized he had been staring, lost in his thoughts, and felt a familiar prickle of annoyance at being caught.
Jeong Rok’s observation, while accurate, was delivered with a hint of his characteristic smugness, immediately bringing Jung Yoon back to their usual banter.
“Don’t give me those pathetic looks; you’re not getting it.”
“When did I ever look pathetic…? I was just watching because it’s funny how you’re so intent on taking that.”
It was absurd.
Who was feeling sorry for whom?
Jung Yoon shook his head in disbelief, brushed off the remaining straw, and turned away.
The familiar dance of their personalities, the playful jabs and feigned indignity, resumed.
Jung Yoon knew Jeong Rok was attempting to provoke him, but he also recognized the underlying camaraderie.
He brushed off the straw, a physical act of shaking off the discomfort and regaining his composure.
The situation, while grim, had its moments of unexpected levity, mostly courtesy of Jeong Rok’s bizarre charm.
“This?”
“Yes. That.”
“So you’d have another man’s sperm carried by you?”
There he goes again.
Jung Yoon gritted his teeth, thinking about how many times he’d heard the word “sperm” since they found the evidence.
He knew it was a joke, but after hearing it so many times, he seriously started to doubt Jeong Rok’s sanity.
The deliberate repetition of the crude term was clearly designed to annoy him, and it was working.
Jung Yoon felt a vein throb in his temple. He understood Jeong Rok’s twisted sense of humor, but there were limits.
The constant references to “sperm” and “dirty work” felt like a direct assault on his professional detachment, an unwelcome reminder of the repulsive nature of the evidence.
“When it’s dirty work like this, the superior should do it so they don’t get cursed at.”
Jeong Rok’s brazen reply continued even as Jung Yoon glared at him.
Jung Yoon had to look up at the light, then squeeze his eyes shut to suppress his annoyance.
The sheer audacity of Jeong Rok’s statement was breathtaking.
It was a twisted logic, a thinly veiled attempt to justify his own aversion to the unpleasant task while simultaneously asserting his leadership.
Jung Yoon inhaled deeply, trying to count to ten, to find some semblance of calm in the face of such profound absurdity.
He knew engaging would only fuel Jeong Rok’s antics, but the urge to retort, to verbally dismantle Jeong Rok’s ridiculous argument, was almost overwhelming.
He knew Moon Jeong Rok was eccentric, but he couldn’t fathom what he had in his brain to say such things.
Was it because he hadn’t slept?
Jung Yoon sighed softly, forcing down his anger.
The question of Jeong Rok’s sanity, while rhetorical, was one that Jung Yoon frequently pondered.
His colleague was a puzzle, a perplexing mix of sharp intelligence and utter idiocy.
The weariness of the investigation, the late nights, the constant pressure, all contributed to a frayed temper, but Jeong Rok’s particular brand of infuriating humor seemed designed to push him over the edge.
“That’s evidence. Who in the world would consider that ‘sperm’ and ‘dirty’?”
“I’ll do it.”
Should I just kill him, seriously?
Jung Yoon’s gaze shifted to the evidence they had secured.
Jeong Rok called it “sperm,” but for Jung Yoon, it was just evidence.
The distinction was crucial, a testament to Jung Yoon’s unwavering professionalism.
He was a detective, not a participant in Jeong Rok’s crude jokes.
The condom, the box, the dried liquid – these were not personal affronts, but pieces of a puzzle, clues to a crime.
His internal monologue, a mixture of exasperation and murderous intent, was a familiar companion whenever he worked with Jeong Rok.
Clear DNA evidence that could pressure a suspect and lead to an arrest.
That was all the condom, the garbage, was.
He didn’t want to understand Jeong Rok, who was spouting nonsense about “another man’s sperm” and “dirty work.”
The tangible reality of the evidence, its potential to bring justice, was what mattered.
Jeong Rok’s crude attempts at humor, his deliberate emphasis on the unsavory aspects, only served to highlight Jung Yoon’s own detachment and professional focus.
He actively resisted the urge to succumb to Jeong Rok’s vulgarity, to maintain his own mental and emotional integrity in the face of such a grim discovery.
Should someone like this even be a team leader?
Jung Yoon fell into self-doubt about the setting and roles of this novel, which he couldn’t understand how it was unfolding.
The question, a recurring one in his mind, was never truly answered.
Jeong Rok’s leadership was often baffling, his methods unorthodox, yet he often delivered results.
The irony was not lost on Jung Yoon.
He was a detective, a man of logic and order, yet he found himself constantly navigating the unpredictable chaos that was Moon Jeong Rok.
“Can I swear?”
“You can. But you’ll regret it if you do.”
“I think I’ll regret it even if I don’t, so I’ll just…”
He was clearly toying with him.
Jung Yoon was fuming, his eyes smiling as he was about to unleash the curses that filled his mind.
Suddenly, Jeong Rok moved right in front of him, putting his index finger to Jung Yoon’s lips.
The moment stretched, thick with unspoken words and frustrated intent.
Jung Yoon’s glare intensified, his jaw tight, a silent challenge in his eyes.
Jeong Rok’s seemingly innocent gesture, the finger to the lips, was a clear provocation, yet it also held an undeniable intimacy, a strange, electric tension that Jung Yoon couldn’t quite place.
He said he could, but now that he was actually going to, was he trying to stop him?
Jung Yoon turned his head, and Jeong Rok, who was so close their noses almost touched, whispered “Shh” like a breath.
Immediately holding his breath at Jeong Rok’s command, Jung Yoon opened his ears and keenly surveyed their surroundings.
The sudden shift in Jeong Rok’s demeanor, the abrupt cessation of his playful taunts, immediately alerted Jung Yoon.
The proximity, the whispered command, sent a jolt through him, a primal instinct to obey.
He held his breath, his senses sharpening, the earlier frustrations momentarily forgotten, replaced by a heightened awareness of their environment.
The silence settled around them, and just after he closed his mouth, the faint sound of footsteps on the ground outside the space, where only their breathing could be heard, became audible.
The sudden stillness, the abrupt cessation of their banter, allowed the faint sounds to penetrate their awareness.
The soft shuffle of footsteps, barely perceptible at first, grew clearer, signaling an unexpected presence.
The tension in the air, already thick with the gravity of their discovery, now intensified, a new layer of danger added to the mix.
He moved only his eyes to glance at where the sound was coming from and caught a glimpse of something moving.
As they held their breath, a clear rustling sound, like clothes rubbing together, became distinctly audible.
Their sensitive gazes, sharpened by the clear presence, met in the air.
The shared moment, the silent communication, was powerful.
Their eyes, locked in a fleeting gaze, conveyed a mutual understanding: they were not alone.
The rustling, the faint movement, confirmed their suspicions, adding a layer of immediate threat to their already tense situation.
Someone was there.
Jeong Rok also nodded, thinking the same as Jung Yoon.
Jeong Rok took out a handkerchief, placed the storage box on it, and set it down beside them.
The unspoken acknowledgment of the unseen presence solidified their shared purpose.
Jeong Rok’s swift, deliberate action of placing the evidence on the handkerchief was a clear indicator of his focus and his understanding of the danger.
It was a practical, professional move, a sign that the playful facade had dropped, replaced by a steely determination.
Jung Yoon subtly shielded it and turned towards the door.
Soon, a small shadow could be seen moving outside the greenhouse.
The subtle movement, the glimpse of a shadow, confirmed their suspicions.
The air crackled with a new kind of tension, a silent readiness for whatever was about to unfold.
Jung Yoon’s protective stance, his gaze fixed on the door, was a testament to his instincts and his commitment to the evidence, to the truth they were desperately trying to uncover.
The investigation, which had seemed confined to the grim discoveries within the shed, had now spilled out into the broader, unknown world, bringing with it an immediate, unpredictable threat.
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