“Wow, this place is fancy.”
The words, laced with a mix of awe and mild disbelief, hung in the humid air.
Jeong Rok, ever the jester, craned his neck, taking in the towering facade of Seonyang Law Firm.
The late afternoon sun glinted off the polished windows, making the entire building shimmer like a mirage.
“I heard Park Chang-gyu’s father is the money man. My head’s already starting to ache,” he added, rubbing his temples with an exaggerated sigh.
Not expecting to be allowed to use the parking lot anyway, the four men – Jung Yoon, Jeong Rok, Junhyuk, and Hankyeol – parked their nondescript black sedan directly in front of the imposing building and stepped onto the street, the worn asphalt a stark contrast to the gleaming marble of the entrance.
“Whoa, what are they? Their size…”
Junhyuk, usually the quiet and observant one, let out a low whistle.
As expected, as if they already knew, the entrance to the first floor of Seonyang was neatly lined with men in black suits.
These weren’t your average security guards; they were built like brick walls, their shoulders broad, their stances rigid, radiating an aura of intimidation that even the seasoned detectives felt.
Each man was a formidable presence, their dark suits doing little to conceal the sheer bulk beneath.
Their gazes were fixed, unblinking, sweeping over the approaching detectives with an unnerving intensity.
It was clear these were not just bouncers; they were highly trained, disciplined individuals, perhaps ex-military or specialized security personnel, hand-picked for their imposing physiques and unwavering loyalty.
The very air around them seemed to crackle with a silent warning, a palpable tension that promised swift and decisive action should anyone dare to cross the line they so effectively demarcated.
“It’s okay. We have Jung Yoon, who’s good at fighting, don’t we?”
Jeong Rok, ever the opportunist, sidled up close behind Jung Yoon, clinging to him like a burr, his voice a playful whine.
Speechless, Jung Yoon stared at him, dumbfounded, scanning him up and down with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.
Jeong Rok, completely unperturbed by Jung Yoon’s glare, childishly pulled his lips into a wide, mischievous smile, pushing Jung Yoon forward with a surprisingly firm shove.
This bastard, seriously…
Jung Yoon shot a disdainful look at Jeong Rok, who was subtly fondling his shoulder and arm, his grin widening with each touch.
Indifferent to Jung Yoon’s blatant disapproval, Junhyuk, narrowing his eyes and grinning slyly, poked Jung Yoon’s arm from Jeong Rok’s opposite side.
“Oh, so Jung Yoon beat Team Leader Moon?”
Junhyuk’s voice was low, teasing, just loud enough to be heard by the others.
“Oh…” he added, a hint of mock admiration in his tone.
Then, Hankyeol, never one to be left out, also latched onto Jung Yoon’s other arm like a parasite, his grip surprisingly firm.
Unexpectedly burdened with three grown men hanging from his arms, Jung Yoon slowly closed his eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath, the weight of his colleagues a tangible and irritating presence.
The collective mass of them clinging to him felt like a literal drag, a testament to their playful harassment.
He could feel the stares of the unmoving men in black suits, surely finding this spectacle amusing, which only added to his growing irritation.
He longed for the simple, straightforward nature of a solitary stakeout, far from the madding crowd of his own team.
The sheer absurdity of the situation was almost comical, but Jung Yoon, ever the stoic, found little humor in it.
His mind, already preoccupied with the daunting task ahead, struggled to maintain its focus amidst this unexpected, childish assault.
“This isn’t some combined robot or something…”
His softly uttered words carried a hint of exasperation, a low grumble barely audible above the city’s hum.
Hankyeol, who at least had some modicum of sense when it truly mattered, quietly detached himself from Jung Yoon’s arm, sensing the precarious edge of his patience.
“Combined? What are you talking about?”
Jeong Rok, ever the instigator, blinked innocently, feigning ignorance, his lips twitching betrayingly.
Jung Yoon shot a fierce glare at Jeong Rok, who seemed utterly incapable of anything but joking to the very end, his patience now worn thin.
With a swift, decisive movement, he quickly shook off the arm Jeong Rok was still clinging to.
Unexpectedly dislodged from Jung Yoon’s arm, Jeong Rok stumbled backward, off balance, and bumped his back squarely into the chest of one of the large, unyielding men standing rigidly by the main entrance.
The impact was solid, like hitting a wall of muscle.
“Oops, sorry.”
Jeong Rok, ever the smooth talker, turned and, as if nothing had happened, casually brushed off the bumped man’s lapel, a gesture utterly useless given the man’s unyielding posture and stony expression.
“What do you want?” the burly guard rumbled, his voice a deep growl, his eyes fixed on Jeong Rok with an unwavering intensity that promised trouble.
Their suspicious appearance, their unannounced arrival, and now Jeong Rok’s clumsy stumble made them perfect targets for the burly men who stood like sentinels.
In the end, the four detectives were repeatedly and unequivocally denied entry, a clear message delivered by the impassive faces and formidable presence of the security detail.
“Ugh… I don’t want to fight.”
Jeong Rok, frustrated by the unexpected roadblock, groaned, his usual bravado momentarily deflated.
“Can’t we just arrest them for obstructing official duties?” he suggested, his annoyance pushing him towards an even more troublesome and potentially messy option.
So Jung Yoon, ever the pragmatist, offered a simpler, more sensible method to correct his colleague’s impulsive choice, his gaze unwavering on the unyielding security.
“Right. Did we inform them?”
Jung Yoon’s voice was calm, cutting through the rising tension.
Junhyuk, belatedly realizing their oversight, slapped his forehead with a resounding thwack, a sound of self-reproach.
“No, we haven’t, sir.”
The truth dawned on them: they couldn’t make an arrest if the men didn’t even know they were on official duty, a fundamental procedural misstep that had escaped their minds in the rush.
Junhyuk, swift in his realization, roughly elbowed Jung Yoon in the side, a clear signal.
Jung Yoon let out a grunt, bending his upper body slightly in response, then, understanding the unspoken intention, raised his elbow in return.
Jung Yoon then precisely struck Jeong Rok in the side, a well-aimed, albeit firm, blow.
“Ah! …You hit too hard.”
Jeong Rok, struck precisely in the ribs, clutched his side and hunched over, his face a mask of pain.
But he had no time to wallow in his momentary agony; his impatient team member, Junhyuk, his eyes alight with urgency, forced him to pull out the folded warrant from his back pocket, his voice a sharp, insistent whisper.
“Lawyer Park Chang-gyu is here now, right?”
Jeong Rok, still wincing, roughly unfolded the crinkled paper and thrust it toward the man who appeared to be the leader of the burly guards, his eyes still watering slightly from the unexpected impact.
“This is an arrest warrant for Mr. Park Chang-gyu.”
Jung Yoon spoke, his voice clear and authoritative, stepping in for the still-aching Jeong Rok, whose pain was clearly visible.
“Let’s not make a ridiculous scene inside the company. Please cooperate, everyone.”
His tone was firm, a quiet warning.
The burly guards exchanged glances, their stoic facades cracking just a fraction as they processed the unexpected turn of events.
The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the distant sounds of city traffic.
Finally, Hankyeol, seizing the moment, stepped forward and, with a subtle but firm push, parted the burly men who were still blocking their way.
The path to the entrance was now clear.
The other three detectives, moving with renewed purpose, followed the path Hankyeol had so effectively created.
But just then.
The moment they were about to step through the revolving entrance, a familiar face emerged from the gleaming glass and came outside, his expression unreadable.
“There’s no need for you to enter.”
The four men’s steps halted, forced to stop by the approaching figure, who seemed to materialize out of thin air, his voice calm yet utterly commanding.
“Don’t cause a disturbance in the company for no reason.”
Standing directly in front of the four detectives, blocking their way into the prestigious law firm, was none other than Park Chang-gyu himself.
He was impeccably dressed, his suit perfectly tailored, his composure unsettlingly serene.
Park Chang-gyu, with an impassive face that betrayed no emotion, gestured toward the parked police van, its official markings stark against the polished exterior of the building.
“I’ll cooperate fully with the investigation, so let’s go, detectives.”
His tone was devoid of any defensiveness or anger, almost as if he were granting them a favor.
***
Now, Park Chang-gyu, whose status had changed from a witness’s lawyer to a suspect, sat opposite Jung Yoon in the stark, sterile interrogation room.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the polished table between them.
There was absolutely no trace of the nervousness that Jung Yoon had become accustomed to seeing in others who sat in that suspect’s chair.
No trembling hands, no darting eyes, no fidgeting.
His impassive face even conveyed a sense of boredom, as if this was an inconvenience rather than a serious accusation.
His appearance was as immaculate as Jung Yoon had seen before; not a single hair was out of place, his suit still perfectly creased, his tie knotted with precision.
He exuded an almost unnerving calm, a self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance.
And yet, from the perspective of an investigator, with an almost primal intuition honed by years of interrogations, Jung Yoon felt compelled to dig deeper.
There was something about Park Chang-gyu that screamed for further scrutiny, a subtle disquiet beneath the polished exterior that gnawed at Jung Yoon’s professional instincts.
It was a feeling he trusted implicitly, a quiet alarm bell ringing in his mind that urged him to push harder, to look beyond the carefully constructed facade.
This wasn’t just a suspect; this was a puzzle, and Jung Yoon relished the challenge.
Jung Yoon calmly began the interrogation, his voice measured, his gaze steady.
As Park Chang-gyu was a lawyer himself, Jung Yoon knew he couldn’t show any weaknesses or gaps in the investigation process.
Every question had to be precise, every procedure followed meticulously, leaving no room for legal loopholes.
Jung Yoon stared at the monitor, its screen displaying the basic information of the case, with a more serious demeanor than usual, his brow furrowed in concentration.
A little later, Jeong Rok, having recovered from his rib-hitting incident, entered the interrogation room and quietly took his seat, preparing to record every word.
The remaining two detectives, Junhyuk and Hankyeol, watched the entire interrogation process from the monitoring room, their faces grim, their eyes fixed on the one-way glass, silently analyzing every nuance, every subtle shift in expression.
“Where were you on the day of Yang Seon-hwa’s incident?”
Jung Yoon’s voice was level, almost conversational.
“I was with Yongbaek.”
Park Chang-gyu’s reply was indifferent, delivered with a casual shrug, as if discussing mundane plans. Jung Yoon’s brow furrowed instinctively at the brazenness of the statement.
He glanced up, and Park Chang-gyu, meeting his gaze without flinching, smiled with a relaxed air, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.
It was a brazen expression, as if to say, ‘The person who could prove my alibi is dead, so there’s nothing you can do.’
Jung Yoon forced himself to maintain composure, refusing to let Park Chang-gyu’s insolence rattle him.
He spoke, his voice still calm, but with an underlying edge of steel.
“You must have been close with Jeong Yong-baek.”
It was a statement, not a question, designed to elicit a reaction.
Park Chang-gyu paused for a beat, his smile widening slightly, as if savoring the moment.
“I suppose so.”
His tone was leisurely, almost dismissive, confirming Jung Yoon’s suspicion that he was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game.
At Park Chang-gyu’s relaxed, almost mocking expression, Jung Yoon let out a subtle sigh of displeasure, barely audible, a testament to his rising irritation.
“Jeong Yong-baek is dead.”
Jung Yoon delivered the news without preamble, his gaze fixed on Park Chang-gyu, searching for any flicker of surprise, any crack in the facade.
Park Chang-gyu’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes still holding that faint, knowing amusement.
“Did you know?”
Jung Yoon pressed, his voice sharper now.
“No. I thought it was strange that I couldn’t reach him, but… he was dead, then.”
He feigned a look of profound regret, a theatrical performance devoid of any genuine emotion, despite showing no surprise whatsoever.
Jung Yoon’s fingers, which had been diligently drafting the interrogation report, stopped mid-sentence, his pen hovering above the digital pad.
A hollow, cynical laugh, barely more than a whisper, escaped his lips, a sound of pure disbelief.
“You said you were close. You couldn’t reach him, but it seems you weren’t worried.”
Jung Yoon’s voice was laced with sarcasm, highlighting the blatant inconsistency.
“Well, even if you’re close, you don’t contact each other every day.”
Park Chang-gyu’s answer was smooth, almost too smooth, delivered with an air of practiced nonchalance, a ready explanation for every perceived flaw in his narrative.
“Still, Mr. Jeong Yong-joon was questioned as a witness, and you were present for that, weren’t you? Didn’t you contact him after that?”
Jung Yoon pushed, attempting to poke holes in his carefully constructed alibi.
“Actually, Yongbaek was against attending the witness interview. I persuaded him to go, so he was upset. We had a bit of an argument… I just assumed his doctor would inform him, so I didn’t contact him.”
To every question, Park Chang-gyu responded immediately, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, a sign of his unwavering confidence.
It was as if he had prepared for this, meticulously rehearsing his answers, delivering them diligently within a safe range, always maintaining his composure, never once faltering under the pressure.
“You know Ms. Yang Seon-hwa, don’t you?”
Jung Yoon shifted gears, throwing another name into the ring, watching for any reaction.
“I think I saw her a few times in Damhong Village. I only really came to know her after her death. I learned her name when I heard about the incident.”
Park Chang-gyu’s denial was delivered with the same detached ease, a practiced indifference.
What a load of bullshit.
Jung Yoon thought, his jaw clenching.
Yang Seon-hwa’s husband knew Park Chang-gyu very well.
Of course, he had said that anyone from the village would know him.
—Chang-gyu is the pride of our village.
Jung Yoon saw the face of Yang Seon-hwa’s husband, which had been nothing but gentle, flickering before his eyes, a haunting image.
He would collapse utterly when he learned the truth about the culprit, when he realized that the very man he so naively trusted, the pride of their village, was responsible for his wife’s death.
To think that his wife had died at the hands of the very person he so innocently believed in, a cruel twist of fate that would surely shatter him.
The thought fueled Jung Yoon’s resolve.
“What were you doing on that day?”
Jung Yoon pressed, his voice unwavering, refusing to be swayed by Park Chang-gyu’s composed facade.
“If you’re asking about my alibi, you should ask Secretary Yoon Sang-ah outside. She manages all of my schedules.”
Park Chang-gyu’s response was immediate, a subtle deflection, pointing them towards a third party, a tactic to buy himself more time and maintain his distance from direct confrontation.
The shock will be immense for the husband, but he still had to be caught.
That was what justice demanded for the victim.
And for the sake of the grieving family, who so innocently believed this monster was a good person, they had to somehow put this bastard behind bars.
Jung Yoon immediately requested that Yoon Sang-ah be brought in to confirm the alibi, then, without missing a beat, continued the interrogation, his gaze never leaving Park Chang-gyu.
“By the way.”
Park Chang-gyu, who had not avoided a single one of Jung Yoon’s questions so far, calmly took a sip of his tea, his movements slow and deliberate, a theatrical pause.
Jung Yoon stared at Park Chang-gyu, who had unexpectedly spoken first, with a look of undisguised displeasure, his patience thinning.
The moment their eyes met, Park Chang-gyu set down his teacup with a soft clink and spoke in a smooth, almost taunting tone.
“Wouldn’t it be better to find one more piece of evidence instead of talking to me like this? I don’t have much to say.”
His words were a direct challenge, a subtle yet potent jab at Jung Yoon’s investigative efforts, an attempt to undermine his confidence.
Jung Yoon had expected it, but Park Chang-gyu was even more skilled at deception than he had imagined.
During this first interrogation, Park Chang-gyu hadn’t raised his voice once, nor had his face flushed with anger or embarrassment, not even for a moment.
He simply defended himself by denying everything calmly and dispassionately, his voice even and devoid of emotion, as if he were merely offering legal counsel, a detached observer in his own arrest.
He was a master manipulator, a chameleon blending seamlessly into the role of an innocent man.
***
After leaving the interrogation room, the heavy door closing with a soft thud behind him, Jung Yoon immediately sought out Hankyeol, who had gone to see Yoon Sang-ah, his face etched with a mix of urgency and concern, asking for the results.
[Park Chang-gyu was on a business trip on the day of the Yang Seon-hwa incident. Not towards Deokdong. The client he supposedly had dinner with has been confirmed.]
Hankyeol’s voice, relayed through the earpiece, was precise, delivering the information quickly.
“Did you check with the restaurant too?”
Jung Yoon pressed, his mind already racing ahead, seeking further corroboration.
[We’re on our way to the restaurant now to check the CCTV. It’ll take about an hour.]
Hankyeol responded, the faint sounds of traffic in the background indicating his location.
They had arrested him, but they were in a race against time, needing to request a detention warrant within 48 hours, so their anxiety grew with every passing minute.
The clock was ticking, and they needed irrefutable evidence.
“Has the DNA comparison been confirmed?”
Jung Yoon asked, his voice low, the crucial question hanging in the air.
“Tomorrow.”
The response was brief, confirming their limited timeframe.
“He just gave that up willingly?”
Hyuncheol, who had been watching the entire conversation between Park Chang-gyu and Jung Yoon through the interrogation room’s glass, returned to the office belatedly, his expression thoughtful, and asked, observing Jung Yoon’s serious demeanor.
He glanced at Jung Yoon, who was engrossed in reviewing the report, his eyes carefully examining every line of the interrogation record, every word meticulously noted.
“We haven’t mentioned the greenhouse yet. He didn’t seem to suspect at all that we have the storage box,” Hankyeol clarified, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“You intentionally didn’t mention the fingerprints, too?”
Hyuncheol inquired, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Yes.”
Jung Yoon confirmed, his voice firm, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
“Why?”
Hyuncheol prompted, already sensing the answer.
“I wanted to screw him over later.”
Jung Yoon’s response was delivered with a steely resolve, a glint of determination in his eyes.
He preferred to keep his most potent weapon hidden, to unleash it when it would cause the most damage, when Park Chang-gyu felt most secure in his lies.
It was a calculated risk, a strategic move to ensure their case was ironclad.
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