Chapter 21

Toward the end of April, Mu-yeong headed to Mangcheon alongside Choi Yook. Once again, Mu-yeong took the wheel while Choi Yook sat in the passenger seat. The only difference was that Choi Yook had brought along a sizable piece of luggage.

The item Choi Yook had tossed into the back seat was an enormous basket of fresh fruit. Tied with a lavish ribbon, it looked remarkably expensive. Catching sight of the basket reflected in the rearview mirror, Mu-yeong smiled.

“I never would have thought to bring something like that,” Mu-yeong admitted with a chuckle.

Choi Yook smirked faintly. “I’ve had a damn lot of visitations in my time. Guess you’ve never been on a visitation, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi.”

“I’ve been to nursing homes and the like,” Mu-yeong replied. “Only for work, though.”

They said there wasn’t a place on earth that didn’t serve as a workplace except wedding halls, and that held true. Infidelity knew neither gender, age, nor location.

Entering the heart of downtown Mangcheon, the van turned toward a five-story building. It was the nursing home housing Yoon Hee-sook.

Choi Yook was the one who had arranged the visitation. Under the facility’s rules, visits were capped at thirty minutes and restricted strictly to the visiting room, meaning they would have to make every minute count.

Having parked the vehicle, Mu-yeong lifted the fruit basket out of the car. It was surprisingly heavy, causing him to stagger for a brief second, when Choi Yook’s hand reached in with long strides and snatched the basket away. Mu-yeong didn’t refuse, offering a warm smile instead.

“Thank you,” Mu-yeong said with an appreciative grin. “You’re remarkably strong, Section Chief.”

Choi Yook gave a derisive snort. “You’re just pathetic and frail. Left to yourself, the whole damn thing would’ve rolled across the pavement, leaving you to share apples with the pigeons.”

Swinging the basket toward the pigeons waddling across the asphalt, Choi Yook scoffed. Naturally, seasoned urban birds that they were, the pigeons didn’t even pretend to budge. Choi Yook turned back to Mu-yeong.

“You two act alike, too,” Choi Yook muttered dryly. “Simple on the outside, but guts the size of a boulder.”

“Me? Come on, I’m hardly a pigeon. I’m…”

Mu-yeong caught himself and snapped his mouth shut. He had nearly blurted out an elephant. That was something he had only ever shared with Hyung. Striding briskly forward, Mu-yeong snatched the basket from Choi Yook’s hands.

“See, I can carry things like this too,” Mu-yeong said, shifting the weight. “Visiting hours will be over soon, so shouldn’t we hurry?”

Mu-yeong stepped into the nursing home first on his own. The lobby gave off a cozy ambiance, furnished in light wood veneers and crisp white wallpaper. An employee sat behind the front desk, clicking a mouse back and forth. He tapped lightly on the counter.

“Excuse me, I’m here for the four o’clock visit with Yoon Hee-sook in Room 302,” Mu-yeong said.

Despite Mu-yeong’s best effort to make his presence known, the staff member scowled deeply upon looking up at him. Letting out an overt sigh, the clerk drummed his pen against the desk in blatant irritation.

The clerk gestured dismissively. “Just so you know, Ms. Yoon Hee-sook can turn violent if she gets agitated. If there’s any trouble, hit the call button immediately.”

That detail had never surfaced during his investigation, nor had Choi Yook mentioned it. Back in the day, she might have chased people out of the reading room without mercy, but she had never been known to raise a hand against anyone.

“Is there anything specific I should watch out for?” Mu-yeong asked.

“For starters, don’t get too close, and under no circumstances do you touch her personal belongings without permission,” the clerk rattled off, tapping his pen. “Also, outside food isn’t allowed during visitations, so take whatever’s in your hand back out with you.”

Mu-yeong looked down at the fruit basket in his hands. He hesitated, shifting his grip. “Ah… I wasn’t aware. Could you let it slide just this once?”

“I said it’s against regulations,” the clerk scoffed, crossing his arms. “If getting rid of it is too troublesome, we can dispose of it for you. Besides, if you’re buying something like this in the first place, bringing some for the staff is basic tact and manners, you know? Just keep that in mind for next time.”

The clerk sneered, twirling his pen around his fingers. His obstinate hostility was unusually fierce, as if he harbored an intense, instinctive disgust. Had Mu-yeong bought the fruit himself, resolving the issue would have been simple enough. Just as Mu-yeong hesitated, a shadow fell abruptly over him from behind.

“What about outside food?” a flat voice cut in.

Choi Yook tilted his head toward the counter, his expression barren of warmth. Although his high shirt collar concealed his tattoos, nothing about his aura suggested a white-collar desk worker. He continued in a chilling monotone, “When I called, you said it was fine, so I took the trouble to buy it. Why are you trying to smear someone else’s money all over your own tongue?”

At the deadpan delivery, the employee dropped his gaze. The slipping pen tumbled across the surface of the desk.

“Well, ahem, you see, yesterday an elderly resident choked on some outside rice cakes all of a sudden,” the clerk stammered, flustered. “And usually, guardians bring snacks around for the staff too…”

Choi Yook cut in coldly, “I called today.” Leaning in closer still, his gaze swept over the name tag pinned to the uniform before locking dead into the clerk’s eyes.

“If this were meant for you to shovel down your throat, Lee Ji-hoon, I’d have grabbed a five-thousand-won tub of market strawberries,” Choi Yook said, pinning the man in place. “Do you really think I’d come here with mangoes, Shine Muscats, and a gilded ribbon tied on top?”

Lee Ji-hoon had no answer, ducking his head in silent apprehension.

“The visitation room,” Choi Yook demanded flatly.

The clerk shrank back. “…Ah, i-it’s on the fourth floor.”

The clerk averted his face, flushing crimson. Snatching the basket back from Mu-yeong, Choi Yook strode toward the elevator. Naturally, he didn’t miss the chance to give Mu-yeong a hard time as well.

“I realize every religion you subscribe to tells you to give alms to beggars,” Choi Yook muttered, casting a sideways glance, “but if you’re going to be generous with someone else’s maw, you should pay for it out of your own pocket.”

Feeling thoroughly wronged, Mu-yeong protested, “I never planned on giving it away.”

Choi Yook raised an eyebrow. “Then what were you going to do?”

“What do you mean? I was going to eat it all myself,” Mu-yeong answered plainly. “We could just finish it before going in.”

He answered as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. Waiting for the elevator, Choi Yook looked down at Mu-yeong and let out a scoffing laugh.

Choi Yook shook his head in amusement. “Keep your reckless bravado in check. That basket looks bigger than your stomach. Are you looking to rupture your gut and get wheeled out on a stretcher?”

“It’s only fruit,” Mu-yeong replied with a shrug. “Once you start eating, it all fits.”

“You’re entirely…” Choi Yook muttered, his voice trailing off.

Choi Yook started to say something, only to swallow his words. The faint trace of amusement vanished, his face returning to its usual dry, hardened stoicism. Naturally, Mu-yeong didn’t miss even that fleeting moment.

Mu-yeong offered a bright grin. “You look much more handsome when you smile, Section Chief.”

Before Choi Yook could respond, Mu-yeong slipped into the arriving elevator. Just the two of them occupied the narrow compartment.

Did I just move us into a much more convenient spot to get beaten up? Fortunately, Choi Yook stepped in after him and stood with his back turned completely to Mu-yeong. Right as the floor indicator ticked up for the first time, an offhand remark drifted back.

“You really don’t live up to your face, Seo Mu-yeong,” Choi Yook said casually.

It was the first time the man had offered a direct evaluation of his appearance. Was he returning the favor because Mu-yeong had complimented his looks? Mu-yeong’s ears perked up in genuine intrigue.

Mu-yeong leaned forward, unable to contain his curiosity. “What do I look like?”

A mirror hung on one wall of the elevator. Yet no matter how hard Mu-yeong peered into it, only a hazy, indistinct silhouette wavered back. Choi Yook, who had been standing in front of him, turned around and looked down at Mu-yeong.

Mu-yeong’s heart thumped against his ribs. Choi Yook was the single person alive who could answer the question Mu-yeong had wondered about his entire life yet never had any hope of resolving. As their eye contact stretched on, his mouth ran dry.

A piercing gaze swept down his face with deliberate precision, as if calculating a score. Mu-yeong waited with bated breath for the verdict.

“Pale,” Choi Yook said, his eyes narrowing as he weighed the coloring. “Looks like someone who’d scam people for a living…” he added slowly.

“Excuse me?” Mu-yeong blurted out.

“And you look stupid,” Choi Yook concluded bluntly.

Ding. With a cheerful chime, the elevator doors slid open. Mu-yeong’s mouth remained hanging open just like those doors.

To hear such a review from the only person in the world capable of giving him one. He desperately wanted to ask for details, but there was no time. Mu-yeong had no choice but to trail after Choi Yook toward the visitation lounge.

Several tables sat spaced widely apart inside the visitation room. Only one of them was occupied. An elderly woman with a stooped back sat leaning against a pale green plastic tabletop.

It took Mu-yeong a moment to recognize the old woman as Yoon Hee-sook. Unlike Kim Jeong-seon, who had looked virtually unchanged as though he had seen her only yesterday, Yoon Hee-sook had shriveled away like a deflated balloon.

Her bobbed hair, cut much shorter than before, had faded to a brittle white, and her clasped hands trembled incessantly. The breeze slipping through the cracked window caught and fluttered her thin striped blouse.

Choi Yook addressed her, “Ms. Yoon Hee-sook.”

Setting the basket down on the table, Choi Yook took the seat opposite Yoon Hee-sook. Leaning back, he draped one arm over the backrest of the adjacent chair—almost as if deliberately blocking Mu-yeong from taking it. Long, distinctively knuckled fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the plastic.

“We’re both busy and tired, so let’s keep this brief,” Choi Yook said, cutting straight to the point. “You remember when you worked at the Hoehwa-dong Small Library back then, don’t you?”

Yoon Hee-sook could not utter a word, trembling in fearful silence.

“It would be better for both of us if you did,” Choi Yook pressed softly. “Because I’m looking for someone right now.” A sudden tremor shuddered down Yoon Hee-sook’s spine as she stammered, “Wh-who…?”

Her once-sharp voice had turned raspy and cracked. Her gaze wandered helplessly across the tabletop, her fingernails clicking together in erratic agitation. Choi Yook watched her with a quiet, menacing composure.

“You know who,” Choi Yook said. “The eleven-year-old girl who lived at the shaman’s house next to the library.”

Yoon Hee-sook’s face drained into a mask of pure terror. Watching her, Choi Yook pulled a cigarette pack from his jacket, placed a cigarette between his lips with an impassive expression, and flicked his lighter. He seemed entirely indifferent to the fact that they were inside a nursing home. While thick tendrils of smoke drifted over the glossy fruit, he leveled another quiet, piercing stare at the old woman.

“She must have come to the library often while you were working there,” Choi Yook prompted. “You remember what she looked like.”

“I-I don’t know,” Yoon Hee-sook gasped out.

Far too terrified to call him out for smoking, Yoon Hee-sook shook her head violently from side to side.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t remember at all. I’ve forgotten everything, my head is completely gone…” she wept in panic.

From Yoon Hee-sook’s defensive panic, Mu-yeong could tell she hadn’t forgotten a single detail. He could also deduce that something far greater than what he knew had taken place that night. Cowering into herself, Yoon Hee-sook stole a fearful glance toward Choi Yook.