Chapter 40

It was the day after he had been summoned by Choi Yook to the izakaya. Seo Mu-yeong awoke with a clear, sober mind, free from the slightest trace of a hangover. After completing his usual morning routine, he headed to the errand center office.

Having arrived early, Lee Ho-joon was sitting alone at his desk. Mu-yeong greeted him warmly as he walked inside.

“Ho-joon-ah.”

“Ah, hyung. When did you get in?” Ho-joon asked, looking up from his computer.

Stretching his arms wide, Ho-joon offered a grin. Mu-yeong leaned in closer toward his desk. He leaned closer over the desk. “I have a favor to ask. You mentioned you knew a broker tied to the Office of Education, right?”

Ho-joon tilted his head. “Yeah, I do. Why, do you need one?”

Mu-yeong nodded. “Yeah, there’s something I need to look into through the Mangcheon City Office of Education.”

Having completed the initial screening for the ‘Finding Yeon-jae-hyung’ project, it was time to proceed to the next step. Mu-yeong sent a text message to Lee Ho-joon. It listed a specific year, the names of four middle schools, and the single name ‘Yeon-jae’ side by side.

“See if there was a student named ‘Yeon-jae’ who enrolled there that year. The more details the better, whether it’s a contact number or an address. I don’t know his surname, but he’s male.”

Checking the message, Ho-joon nodded in understanding. “Pretty name. But if it’s a guy, he can’t be the kid you’re supposed to find. A different case?”

Mu-yeong shook his head. “Not quite… but he’s connected to that case. He was the student who looked after the child.”

Ho-joon shrugged lightly. “Really? Well, I’ll ask around anyway.” He immediately began exchanging messages with his contact. Glancing down, Mu-yeong checked his watch.

Leaving the office, Mu-yeong walked toward the end of the hallway. Beyond the small hinged casement window lay only drab gray buildings and a cement courtyard. Pushing the window wide open, Mu-yeong retrieved his phone.

Drawing closer to Choi Yook remained Mu-yeong’s steadfast objective. Yet what should he do if the man refused to leave Choi Sijin’s side to the bitter end?

Winning him over to his side seemed impossible, nor was he the kind of man to be swayed by a bundle of cash. And since Choi Yook could see him plainly, ordinary tricks would never work.

Blinding him so he can’t see me might work, though. Pushing the thought aside, Mu-yeong tapped the call button. Choi Yook picked up without delay.

—“Where are you?”

It was a dry, impassive inquiry, as though nothing at all had transpired yesterday. Running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Mu-yeong put on a cheerful tone.

“I’m at the office. It’ll take a few days to figure out where Kang Shim-soo’s apprentices live, so I’m planning to work on other matters until then.”

—“Once you track them down, I’m going with you. Tell me the time and place, and be there on schedule.”

Surprised by the unexpected declaration, Mu-yeong’s eyes widened. Given how much Choi Yook despised shamans, he had assumed the man had dumped the entire investigation onto him to avoid dealing with them.

In any case, it worked in Mu-yeong’s favor. The more chances he had to cling to Choi Yook, the greater the advantage.

“Sounds good. But what do you think about what I said? My theory that Kang Shim-soo was trying to protect the little girl, I mean.”

—“Go ahead and babble that to the shamans. Let’s see how they react.”

Choi Yook tossed the words out flatly. Mu-yeong broke into a broad smile.

“Does that mean you’ve decided to believe me?”

—“There are plenty of people in this world whose sanity is completely shattered, just like yours, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi. My beloved mother went through all kinds of absurd nonsense just to keep Sijin alive, so I suppose Kang Shim-soo could have done the same from her perspective.”

“……”

—“I’m lacking in common sense when it comes to that realm, so I have no idea why she beat the child black and blue or dressed her in thin rags. But I’m sure there was some valid justification in her own twisted way.”

Choi Yook’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Mu-yeong hastily came to his grandmother’s defense.

“She didn’t beat the child black and blue; she used a switch. That’s discipline. Besides, they said she did wear an overcoat outside.”

—“Once blood is drawn, the tool hardly matters. I have no idea why you defend beating a child so vehemently, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi. Did they beat you into submission at the orphanage?”

“No, though other kids beat me up at school. Did you grow up getting hit, Section Chief?”

—“Fucking constantly.”

Looking at how Choi Yook had turned out, one might indeed conclude that beating a child was the wrong way to teach. Recalling his grandmother’s stern, unyielding strikes, Mu-yeong hunched his shoulders slightly.

“…I thought there were some things you could only learn by being beaten,” Mu-yeong murmured softly.

—“Is that a request?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I was a bit slow as a child, you see.”

Barely pausing to draw breath, Mu-yeong rushed to clarify before Choi Yook could misunderstand.

“I couldn’t correct bad habits right away, so I used to think a stinging slap might help me remember better.”

Believing that he was hit because he kept making mistakes, and that enduring the beatings would eventually set things right. Of course, as was always the case, Choi Yook showed not a shred of sympathy upon hearing such an explanation.

—“Seems to me you’re plenty slow even now.”

“……”

—“In any case, even assuming Kang Shim-soo struck that child with genuine goodwill, the whipping doesn’t prove how well she taught the kid or how much she loved her.”

“Then what does it prove?”

—“How impatient she was.”

“……”

—“I know because I’ve raised a kid myself. No matter how foolish someone is, there’s always a way to reason with them and guide them. But she couldn’t wait, so she just beat the kid black and blue.”

Choi Yook asserted with absolute conviction. Still, considering the kid he had raised was Choi Sijin, hadn’t that upbringing ended in complete failure?

Mu-yeong felt rather skeptical. Even so, his heart felt a fraction lighter.

No matter how painful the lashings were, Mu-yeong had endured them. He had believed that Grandmother struck him for his own sake, out of love. Even when he applied ointment to his wounds alone in the pitch-dark back room, he had thought there must be a reason for it all.

Yet Choi Yook insisted his grandmother had been wrong. If even Grandmother was not infallible, then the loneliness and sorrow Mu-yeong had felt were not wrongful after all.

“I think you might be right, Section Chief,” Mu-yeong conceded quietly.

After all, hyung had patiently taught him without ever raising a hand against him. It was no exaggeration to say that whatever patience Mu-yeong possessed had been nurtured entirely thanks to hyung.

“Perhaps I simply wanted to believe that,” Mu-yeong murmured softly. “And… if a problem can be solved by taking a beating, it’s actually simpler that way. Don’t you think? As long as I endure it, everything turns out fine.”

Mu-yeong drew in a deep breath and let it out. Perhaps because he had never spoken of such things in his entire life, an odd sense of relief settled into his chest, even though the view outside remained nothing but gray concrete and dreary cement. Choi Yook cut him off without a second thought.

—“There’s no such problem in this world, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi.”

Yielding with an easy nod, Mu-yeong replied, “Right. Living through it myself, I realized nothing is ever that simple.”

—“Though in my experience, there are definitely problems that get solved by beating the shit out of someone.”

With that chilling remark, the call clicked dead. Did he mean he would keep beating Mu-yeong in the future, or was he advising him to throw a few punches of his own in life? In all likelihood it was the former, but it made little difference if Mu-yeong chose to interpret it as the latter.

Mu-yeong moved to shut the window, then paused. Perhaps because summer was drawing near, the breeze felt surprisingly warm despite the early hour. Faint, golden sunlight drifted softly across the windowsill.

Basking in the gentle breeze against his back, Mu-yeong returned to the office. Though he deliberately made his footsteps loud, Lee Ho-joon did not notice him entering. Only when Mu-yeong poured individually wrapped snacks into the refreshment bin did Ho-joon swivel his chair around.

“Hyung, toss me one.”

Mu-yeong handed him a snack bag. Tearing open the plastic wrapper, Ho-joon looked up at him.

“They said it’ll take about three or four days,” Ho-joon said. “You can wire me the money later. I’ll let you know the estimate.”

Mu-yeong offered a grateful nod. “Got it. Thanks.” He spoke from the bottom of his heart. Ho-joon waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t mention it. But hyung, you’re digging into this case pretty hard. Last time, Uncle told you to do the bare minimum and drop it. Didn’t you say you’d do that back then? Or didn’t you? Am I right?”

While he clearly remembered Kim Sang-beom’s words, his recollection of Mu-yeong’s response seemed hazy. Popping a snack into his mouth, Mu-yeong nodded in agreement.

“I did. But it seems the boss is letting it slide now. I told him I have personal circumstances that keep me from quitting.”

Ho-joon blinked in surprise. “What kind of circumstances?” He leaned forward, utterly oblivious to the pastry crumbs fluttering from the half-torn wrapper in his hand.

“I have a grudge against them,” Mu-yeong said calmly.

Ho-joon gaped, his jaw dropping open and staying that way. “You do, hyung? How?” Recalling the course of his recent confessions, Mu-yeong continued in a calm voice,

“Roughly along the lines of school bullying.”

He had spoken while staring at the floor, but no reply came from Ho-joon. At the sudden crinkle of plastic, Mu-yeong lifted his gaze. The snack bag in Ho-joon’s fist was being mercilessly crushed.

Pulverized cookie crumbs cascaded onto the desk. Staring straight ahead with a hollow expression, Ho-joon remained frozen for several long seconds before breaking the silence.

“Hyung,” Ho-joon called out, his voice hollow.

“…Yeah?” Mu-yeong responded cautiously.

“Scum like that need their heads smashed open and dumped off somewhere like the Hannam Bridge.”

“……” Mu-yeong offered only a heavy silence.

“They’re the kind of bastards who shouldn’t be allowed to live happy, cozy lives together,” Ho-joon spat through clenched teeth.

Mu-yeong stared down at the torn snack bag. It felt as though he had just uncovered the true nature of the pressurized gas sealed inside the puffed-up wrapper. He was reminded of Kim Sang-beom’s grateful words thanking him for helping Ho-joon brighten up.

“Did things not work out well for you?” Mu-yeong asked softly.

“No, they did. Everything was settled. Whatever that human being called my father tried to ruin, Uncle stepped in and resolved it all. But…” Drawing in a ragged breath, Ho-joon admitted softly, “I’m still a little scared of going outside by myself, you know?”

“……” Mu-yeong listened quietly without cutting in.

Ho-joon continued in a trembling murmur, “Meeting other people besides Uncle and you, having conversations… It makes me anxious out of nowhere, like everything’s about to go wrong, and my heart starts pounding. It feels like everyone’s staring right at me. Do you know what that’s like, hyung?”

It was the complete opposite of what Mu-yeong experienced. Even so, he could understand what Ho-joon was feeling. Looking at Ho-joon, who holed himself up in the office for almost the entire day, Mu-yeong slowly nodded.

“Yeah. I know,” Mu-yeong murmured gently.

A brief silence settled between them. Mu-yeong pulled another snack bag from the refreshment bin. Brushing away the crumbs clinging to Ho-joon’s palm, he pressed the new bag into his hand instead.

“You have to clean this up so the boss doesn’t scold you.”

Ho-joon let out a faint chuckle. Tearing open the wrapper on the spot, he stuffed the whole cookie into his mouth. After slurping down the iced coffee on his desk through a straw, he turned his head toward Mu-yeong.

“Hyung, if there’s ever anything I can do to help, just say the word. If I can’t manage it on my own, I’ll ask Uncle too.” Fluttering the empty plastic wrapper playfully, he added, “Consider it payment for the cookies.”

His face had regained its usual mischief in no time. Mu-yeong smiled back at him.

“Don’t you dare forget that promise.”

Even saying this, Ho-joon might not accurately remember what he had offered. But that was fine.

Because Ho-joon’s desire to help him was genuine. Mu-yeong was glad simply to have heard those words.