The Metropolitan Police Agency’s Violent Crime Division, which he had joined due to the need to avoid contact with civilians because of a tattoo with a history, had recently restructured. A narcotics investigation department had been created as a sub-unit of the violent crime team within the major crimes division. What was funny was that a violent crime investigation department had been created as a sub-unit of the narcotics team within the major crimes division. The message was: “Don’t draw your own lines—catch everything, whether it’s violence or drugs,” and the violent crime team members who had been casually putting off cases that smelled of drugs were all displeased.
In the midst of this, something had started to smell within an organization they were monitoring. A tip had come in that a drug broker had been introduced by a foreign lady working at this establishment, and they had immediately begun an internal investigation. So they had to raid the establishment that had already gone through a clean-up three months ago, and they had to round up all the foreign ladies who were struggling to make money in a foreign land.
For that reason, the man was not in a good mood. He was never in a good mood, but today he was especially not in a good mood.
“Shut up, let me use this place for a bit. I’m expecting someone.”
“Yes, hyungnim. Anyway, I’m disappointed about this incident. Who else will take care of your performance records if not me? Isn’t it thanks to people like me that your performance is as steady as a civil servant’s salary envelope? Shouldn’t we continue to help each other in the future?”
“Help each other, my ass. Police and pimps. Performance records or whatever, it’s been a long time since I’ve been unable to make ends meet with my salary envelope, so shut up and get out.”
“Yes, I’ll bring in some more fresh fruit.”
“Yeah, and this too.”
Kyung Jiho showed the nearly empty whiskey bottle and said:
“Don’t bring a new one, bring the one we were drinking. Don’t make a fuss about taking bribes and eating them.”
“Yes.”
Not long after the manager, with a sullen face but a sharp response, had left, an employee who was familiar entered the room. He bowed at what looked like at least 120 degrees and said:
“Hyungnim! There’s someone here who says they have an appointment with you!”
“Tell them to come in.”
“Yes! Hyungnim!”
The employee, who again bent deeply at the waist as he answered, stepped back one step and gestured to the person standing behind him. Come in. And the quick-witted employee promptly entered and began clearing the table that had been messed up by about a dozen foreign ladies eating and drinking.
Kyung Jiho and Lee Dongjae’s eyes simultaneously turned to the doorway. Sure enough, there stood a person who looked so out of place, from head to toe, that he seemed like a photoshopped image, fidgeting nervously. Kyung Jiho and Lee Dongjae, who fit perfectly with the atmosphere of the place from head to toe, somehow felt like thugs playing a prank on an innocent child.
“Sit down.”
Kyung Jiho pointed with the tip of his cigarette to the seat where the manager had just been sitting.
After hesitating for a moment, the person now began to move in a way that resembled a composite video. Cautiously crab-walking between the table and the sofa, he sat in the seat Kyung Jiho had indicated.
And just then, the manager entered carrying a tray loaded with abundant snacks and a bottle of new liquor the size of a pretense, and glancing at the person sitting in a completely incongruous manner in his former seat, he set down the fruit and alcohol. Then he bowed deeply again.
“Have a good time, hyungnim!”
The manager was a member of an organization with a long history in the Gangnam area, and he had received an establishment from higher-ups and was managing it with a manager’s name tag. His relationship with Kyung Jiho, a detective specializing in organized crime in the violent crime division, was not like water and oil but, let’s say, like diesel and gasoline. They looked like the same kind and could even mix if stirred vigorously, but ultimately, because their uses were different, it was the kind of relationship where they called each other “hyungnim” and “dongsaeng” but couldn’t fully open their hearts and accept each other.
Especially in cases like this, when he quietly comes in saying he’s just visiting, then threatens an innocent new employee who doesn’t know anything, saying he knows there are pretty foreign ladies here and to gather them all, then arrests them all—from the manager’s perspective, he couldn’t help but want to pour alcohol on Kyung Jiho’s head and set it on fire. But he had to endure. There was no choice but to endure. Not just endure, but to endure while providing expensive snacks and liquor the size of a pretense, free of charge.
Within organizations deeply connected to the violent crime division, there was someone known as “Metro Detective Kyung Jiho the Crazy,” and because he would turn into a complete madman once he lost it, there was an unwritten rule not to mess with him, even if you messed with others.
For example, there was an incident where a novice who couldn’t control his anger picked up a fish knife and caused a scene. Watching quietly, Kyung Jiho had exposed his stomach and dared him to stab. Of course, he made sure to avoid the tattooed areas marked with all sorts of vital points. The novice, actually getting goosebumps and becoming scared when he saw someone approaching with their stomach exposed, pulled back the knife and tried to avoid him, but the opponent approaching with a frightening momentum couldn’t be avoided. To the guy who unintentionally stabbed a police officer and was in shock, he gave advice that someone without patience but with only superficial style shouldn’t be a gangster. That someone like him would be better off rotting in prison for life, which would be easier for both of them. This anecdote would be talked about for thousands of years to come. In the end, the guy who had caused a scene with the fish knife ended up just as Kyung Jiho had intended. He’s currently serving a life sentence for assaulting a police officer.
Nevertheless. Despite being such a crazy but righteous detective.
Fitting perfectly into this extremely decadent entertainment establishment like a picture, being called “hyungnim” by various people, receiving deep bows, and above all, a man with a dragon swirling around his entire body—to Geun-yeong’s eyes, he looked like nothing but a gangster. He already knew he was a gangster, but today he looked even more like one.
The man who looked like a perfect gangster to Geun-yeong, stubbing out his neatly smoked cigarette on the ashtray, said:
“It seems our Doctor Jang Saetbyeol is bored from studying and came to visit, so I’ll listen to what you want to say. I have some time today anyway.”
Then he spread both hands. Go ahead, say what you want to say.
Geun-yeong had organized what he wanted to say throughout the taxi ride and decided to start with a question. Somehow feeling unable to speak while looking directly at the man, he looked at the pineapple on top of the pile of fruit on the table and asked:
“Really… aren’t you?”
“No. I’m not.”
Kyung Jiho denied it without the slightest hesitation, so firmly that the hurt Geun-yeong felt an ache in his chest. That’s why Geun-yeong, with his lips slightly protruding, kept his gaze fixed on the pineapple when a toothpick suddenly stabbed into it. A moment later, an exclamation was heard: “Wow, it’s sweet. So sweet.” The exclamation was too loud for a muttered self-comment, so Geun-yeong asked again.
“You might just not remember, so why are you so certain it’s not true?”
“You said it was an orphanage. I’m not an orphan.”
At those words, Lee Dongjae, who was reaching for another pineapple piece, paused and asked:
“Huh? You, hyungnim? You are an orphan. Both your parents are gone.”
“You bastard. I’m a grown adult, does not having parents make me an orphan?”
“If you don’t have parents, you’re an orphan. What else would an orphan be?”
“Isn’t ‘orphan’ written with the character for ‘lonely’ and the character for ‘child’?”
It uses the character for lonely (å¤) and the character for child (å…’). Geun-yeong knew the exact meaning but didn’t correct them since the definition of “orphan” wasn’t important right now.
“Ah, is that so? Then what do you call a grown adult without parents like you, hyungnim? A ‘deceased person’?”
Silence fell in the room. A confused Geun-yeong just blinked while looking at the pineapple, and Kyung Jiho glared at Lee Dongjae.
“Fuck. Do you want to die?”
“Ah. Right. I guess ‘deceased person’ isn’t quite right, hyungnim. I’ll correct myself.”
“You, don’t butt in. Just eat your damn pineapple.”
“Yes, hyungnim.”
Lee Dongjae responded with a deep bow and then deeply stabbed the pineapple he had been trying to pick up. Kyung Jiho turned his gaze away from Lee Dongjae, trying to soften his expression as he turned his head. Unlike Lee Dongjae who seemed like he could withstand even being glared at, he spoke to Ji Geun-yeong, who seemed like someone who shouldn’t be intimidated with harsh looks.
“I’m not an orphan, and I’ve never lived in an orphanage. Stop making me repeat myself and tell me your story. From what I can see, you were adopted into a good family and are living well, so I don’t understand why you’re looking for someone you supposedly met at an orphanage. It makes no sense to me.”
“Ah. That’s exactly right. What are you looking for him for? Finding someone like that, they’ll just cling to you trying to get something out of you. There’s nothing beneficial for you, Teacher Saetbyeol. Our hyungnim has lived a hard life, so he’s giving you good advice—stop looking for people from your past.”
Kyung Jiho glared at the man who was lecturing even more extensively than himself. Lee Dongjae, deliberately ignoring the intense gaze, extended his hand with the utensil to pierce another pineapple as he bent forward.
“…I wanted to die, but because of that person, I didn’t.”
Just above the pineapple, the hand holding the toothpick stopped. Lee Dongjae raised his gaze to look at the young man who was talking while staring at the pineapple he was about to pierce.
And Kyung Jiho, who had been watching Ji Geun-yeong all along, continued to observe the serious face that was proving his words weren’t just bluster.
The two men who focused their attention on the young man talking about wanting to die fell silent, and even the sounds of stabbing and chewing pineapple stopped. In the heavily subdued atmosphere, Geun-yeong spoke.
“I endured thinking I would meet him someday… I didn’t die… I endured. If that person doesn’t exist, if he doesn’t know me, I have no reason to keep living.”
This time, a truly heavy silence fell. The outside noise faintly coming through the thick door seemed loud in comparison. The weight of what the young man was saying was that significant.
“Wow… scary… Hyungnim, this is, like, a situation where you have to say it’s you even if it’s not.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
