Chapter 53

Summer unleashed its full force alongside an inundation of oppressive humidity. Days of rising temperatures and drizzling rain stretched on without pause. Whenever he washed a bundle of identical black short-sleeved T-shirts and hung them out to dry, a faint, lingering dampness hovered throughout the studio apartment all day long.

Mu-yeong didn’t fret over his own comfort. He spent much of his time basking in the air-conditioning inside his car or client buildings. However, on gloomy, overcast days, the ankle he had injured in an accident long ago would throb with aches, which worried him a little. They said overcast days would be frequent this summer.

Still, by evening, a brisk breeze blew in to temper the stifling air. Having wrapped up evidence collection on an unfaithful couple enjoying a night stroll, Seo Mu-yeong returned to his car and plugged in his earphones. The voice of Choi Sijin—which he had by now practically memorized—flowed into his ears.

—“When? …It’s enough if only you go, Mom. Why do I have to… I did well because I’m talented. Why is that thanks to you?” Choi Sijin complained pettily on the recording.

Mu-yeong had listened to this recording repeatedly over the past days. Yet he remained at a loss, still unable to pinpoint the date in question.

Of course, if all else failed, he could always comb through Choi Sijin’s schedule for free days and show up outside his house at three in the afternoon every time. But the truth was, he worried that Choi Yook might catch on to this new routine of his.

Even so, if it comes down to it, I’ll have no choice but to do just that. Lowering the volume, Seo Mu-yeong sent a text message to Choi Yook.

—“Section Chief, I identified the personal information for Kim Seo-gyeong and Yang Ui-ju. I also looked into the people around Kang Shim-soo’s daughter and son-in-law.”

The former was a concrete inquiry down to their resident registration numbers; the latter was a superficial probe conducted in a thoroughly slapdash manner. Before long, a reply came from Choi Yook.

—“Report in person. Forget the former, just the latter. Come to the underground parking garage of my office by ten.”

Choi Yook casually tossed aside the former, which Mu-yeong had desperately played up. Of course, that didn’t mean Seo Mu-yeong would ever dream of refusing his orders.

—“It’ll be nice to see you, Section Chief.”

—“In what way?”

Seo Mu-yeong hesitated, unable to give an immediate answer to his question. It was because what had happened at the hotel flashed through his mind.

—“Just because. It’s been a while, after all.”

Seo Mu-yeong glossed over his reply to wrap up the text exchange and pulled the car onto the road. Even so, he couldn’t stop a subtle heat from seeping along his spine.

Last time, he and Choi Yook had parted as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Perhaps because Choi Yook had grown busy after that, their conversations had shifted mostly to text messages rather than phone calls, yet they still exchanged messages regularly, just as before.

On the surface, it was an entirely tranquil relationship and routine. But unlike other matters that he had brushed off without a second thought, the memory of what had happened at the hotel would sharply spike up from time to time, seizing complete control of his thoughts. The reason for that was clear.

Seo Mu-yeong had never once imagined that he could become a sexual object to someone. That held equally true when it came to hyung. He had never daydreamed about anything beyond the moment he reunited with hyung.

It wasn’t for a lack of imagination. Mu-yeong had intentionally refrained from imagining it.

Because… he simply had no idea where or how to begin explaining those fourteen years to hyung. His past was a tale that even clergymen who believed in angels and demons would scoff at, whereas hyung would have lived an utterly normal, upright life.

Perhaps it might be better to say nothing at all. Yet even if he were to live an ordinary life someday, the person he would be then could never be the same as the one who had never suffered anything.

Could hyung truly understand someone like me? Hmm, feels like my mood is about to turn sour. Mu-yeong cut his thoughts short there and played a recitation of the Diamond Sutra on his phone. One should not give rise to a mind that abides in form; one should not give rise to a mind that abides in sound, smell, taste, touch, or dharmas; one should give rise to a mind that abides nowhere… Listening to the chants, his mind felt as though it were clearing somewhat. As expected, when it came to casting off worldly passions, this was far more effective than any Christian prayer.

Before long, the familiar outline of the office building loomed ahead. Seo Mu-yeong parked his car in the underground garage and waited for Choi Yook.

After some time had passed, Han Seo-yoon approached from a distance. Choi Yook was nowhere in sight.

Mu-yeong pushed the car door open with a click and stepped out. Then he cheerfully greeted Han Seo-yoon, who was looking around.

“Hello, Seo-yoon-ssi,” Mu-yeong called out warmly. “It’s been a while. Where is the Section Chief?”

Han Seo-yoon stopped dead in his tracks. He swept a suspicious gaze over the contour of Mu-yeong’s shoulders. He maintained a stiff posture. “Something came up, so he will be coming down a bit late. He instructed me to relay that to you, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi, and leave for the day.”

Mu-yeong tilted his head slightly. “I see. It’s nothing bad, right?”

“Whatever it may be, there is no reason for you to know, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi,” Han Seo-yoon cut him off curtly.

Han Seo-yoon spoke with razor-sharp firmness. Having received strict reminders from Choi Yook last time, he seemed to have resolved to remain thoroughly aloof toward Mu-yeong.

Yet Seo Mu-yeong couldn’t help stifling a chuckle. Today, as always, Han Seo-yoon was turning pale from the sheer strain of trying to discern Mu-yeong’s features. Mu-yeong inquired in a chipper voice.

Mu-yeong inquired in a teasing tone, “Why are you looking so hard at my face?”

Han Seo-yoon flinched. “Well, the Section Chief said… Never mind.”

A slightly dazed Han Seo-yoon had started to answer on impulse before abruptly biting his tongue. Mu-yeong closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, thoroughly intrigued by the subject of his aborted sentence.

“Why? What did the Section Chief say?” Mu-yeong pressed eagerly.

Han Seo-yoon clamped his jaw shut. “…He didn’t say anything.”

Mu-yeong coaxed, “I won’t tattle.”

Han Seo-yoon’s brow furrowed in stubborn resistance. “I’m not telling.”

Mu-yeong crossed his arms over his chest. Let’s see if you can really keep quiet. He chattered breezily, “Come on, my face isn’t some state secret. Why? Did the Section Chief say he loves my face that much? That he fell head over heels at first sight and couldn’t bring himself to say a word? Or that just looking at me makes rice go down smoothly even without side dishes? That it’s a loss to the national interest that I haven’t debuted like Sijin? That I’m—?”

“A strawberry!” Han Seo-yoon burst out, his patience snapping.

Driven to his wit’s end, Han Seo-yoon raised his voice. He rubbed a hand over his face as though instantly regretting the outburst born of irritation, then continued with the calmest expression he could muster.

Han Seo-yoon smoothed his voice into rigid composure. “He said you look like a strawberry. That is all.”

“Really?” Mu-yeong asked, his smile spreading. “I guess I have a refreshing look.”

Seo Mu-yeong broke into a radiant smile. A strawberry, huh? It was an adorably sweet comparison, quite unlike Choi Yook.

At any rate, it was definitely a compliment. Strawberries were sweet, fresh, and pretty fruits, after all. Thinking he could have just as easily been compared to a watermelon or a mango, he felt remarkably pleased. Han Seo-yoon’s sour grimace was none of his concern.

Of course, easing the man’s tension was probably in order. Seo Mu-yeong warmly struck up a conversation on a topic he thought Han Seo-yoon might appreciate.

“For the Section Chief to share things like that, you two must be quite close, Seo-yoon-ssi,” Mu-yeong ventured amiably. “It seems you’ve worked together for a long time too, right?”

Han Seo-yoon hesitated for a moment. “…Well, I have known him since childhood.”

“Ah, really?” Mu-yeong leaned in with genuine curiosity. “What was the Section Chief like back then? Was he already working out like he does now?”

As he asked, Mu-yeong found himself genuinely intrigued, unable to imagine a young Choi Yook at all. A momentary shadow flickered across Han Seo-yoon’s face. His voice trailed off into uncertainty. “Rather than that…”

“What chat are you two having that’s so immensely amusing?”

A familiar low baritone cut in. Seeing Choi Yook stride up behind Han Seo-yoon, Seo Mu-yeong flinched in surprise. He had been so engrossed in Han Seo-yoon’s words that he hadn’t even noticed the man’s approach. Han Seo-yoon bowed deeply toward Choi Yook.

Han Seo-yoon kept his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s nothing, sir. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Yeah. Let’s talk later,” Choi Yook dismissed him.

Han Seo-yoon murmured, “…Understood.” He pursed his lips and turned away. Soon, headlights flared in the distance, and a sedan rolled out of the parking garage. Watching the car leave, Choi Yook turned his head toward Seo Mu-yeong.

Choi Yook fixed him with an imposing stare. “What were you two discussing?”

Seo Mu-yeong offered a completely harmless smile.

“I asked what you were like as a kid, Section Chief, but he wouldn’t answer,” Mu-yeong replied cheerfully.

Choi Yook climbed into the passenger seat. “I was a bookish scholar.”

Seo Mu-yeong slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him.

With the space suddenly shrinking, the reality of being entirely alone in an enclosed space hit home. In the stagnant air, Choi Yook’s cologne drifted past his nose, mingling with the scent of tobacco. It was a sharp, biting scent that pierced the senses, yet at the same time, it suited Choi Yook to perfection.

Sitting slightly stiff, Mu-yeong stole a sidelong glance at Choi Yook. There’s no way a man like him was ever a meek bookworm. It had to be a purely relative benchmark—something like, Back then, I wasn’t going around burying people alive.

“I’ve been trying to track down anyone who knew Kang Shim-soo’s daughter and son-in-law, but it hasn’t been easy,” Mu-yeong began, adjusting the steering wheel.

Seo Mu-yeong took a deep breath, laying down the groundwork first.

“The neighborhood they lived in got redeveloped, the company the daughter worked for went bankrupt, and they say the son-in-law was a family man who never mingled with anyone,” Mu-yeong explained. “Even the church they attended had its congregation scattered after a newly arrived pastor ousted the original one.”

Seventeen years was plenty of time to smash every community to pieces. A regrettable collapse, but for Seo Mu-yeong, it was a stroke of fortune. There were no better conditions for buying time.

Mu-yeong kept his tone conversational as he continued, “And even after managing to meet a few people with great difficulty, they didn’t have much to say. They just said the couple was kind and devout. Always doing volunteer work, never missing a service, dutifully giving offerings and tithes.” Seo Mu-yeong deliberately rattled off only the kind of details that would make Choi Yook recoil in disgust. Sure enough, Choi Yook knitted his brows.

“Nothing about a little girl being around them?” Choi Yook asked, his brow furrowed.

Mu-yeong shook his head slightly. “Well, I’ll need to look further, but nothing so far. Still, I’m not sure if that even means anything. Like you said, Section Chief, there’s no way an office worker and a firefighter would raise someone else’s child without even legally adopting her. On top of that, people with such clean reputations…” Seo Mu-yeong was in the middle of talking him down.

Quietly listening, Choi Yook suddenly took on a dubious look the moment the word firefighter came up.

“No. Keep digging,” Choi Yook ordered suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Mu-yeong asked, blinking in confusion.

“He wasn’t just any civil servant—he was a firefighter,” Choi Yook reasoned coldly. “He could have easily brought home a kid from a burning house and raised her.”

“Just what kind of profession do you think firefighting is, Section Chief?” Mu-yeong asked, utterly flabbergasted.

Dumbfounded, Seo Mu-yeong retorted, but Choi Yook remained unyielding. To suddenly fixate on the firefighter angle and spout such absurd logic—it was completely unlike a man who prided himself on cold deduction, yet astonishingly enough, his intuition was dead on the mark. Did he have some sort of mobster sixth sense?