It was daytime, and there were only two customers. They sat facing each other at a spot a bit removed from the counter. Kyung Jiho started recording.
Ji Seokhun, whose actual personality seemed quite different from his public image, skipped unnecessary pleasantries and went straight to the point.
“My son has been missing for two days.”
“Oh my.”
To avoid snorting at the word “missing,” Kyung Jiho had to pretend to look serious. But since this was not at all easy, he crossed his arms and leaned back significantly to distract the man’s gaze from his face. Apparently not noticing anything unusual, Ji Seokhun continued.
“He’s currently in his third year of medical school.”
Then, he placed his phone on the table with a saved photo displayed and pushed it within the other’s view. Jiho, not wanting to touch that phone, kept his arms crossed and just lowered his eyes to look at the picture.
It was a captured photo of Ji Geun-yeong getting into a car. Thanks to the camera’s position just past a bus stop, the rear of the vehicle and Geun-yeong getting in were visible, but the front of the car and especially the person in the driver’s seat were not shown.
“This photo was captured by CCTV at a medical supply store in front of the hospital. This is the last known whereabouts—getting into this car. From what I’ve found out, the vehicle registration cannot be traced. It’s a car with a stolen identity, a method commonly used by criminals.”
“Interesting.”
Kyung Jiho had already heard from Yang Hwa-ja that the vehicle he had been driving for quite some time couldn’t be traced. While he knew that a few police-owned vehicles used for stakeouts had their registrations wiped, he hadn’t been aware that his own car had been processed this way. But now he understood why his car’s registration was wiped. As he realized the reason, he deliberately pushed away the face that flashed through his mind.
“A few days before he disappeared, my son met a man who was hospitalized with a stab wound at the hospital where he was doing his clinical practice. He was a gangster with a dragon tattoo on his upper body, and—”
Ji Seokhun, briefly examining the expression of the man he believed to be “Lee Dongjae,” continued:
“His name was ‘Kyung Jiho.’ The man you accompanied that time.”
Finding it increasingly difficult to hide his antipathy, Jiho revealed his sharp gaze without restraint and asked. He would have done the same even if he were the real Lee Dongjae.
“How did you know I accompanied him?”
Noticing the change in the other’s eyes, Ji Seokhun paused briefly to gauge his mood before answering.
“You left your phone number as his guardian.”
“Ah. It seems hospital information isn’t so difficult to access. Here, we have quite a complicated procedure just to look up information on one person.”
Ji Seokhun sensed the other’s sarcasm. Arbitrarily checking patient information was certainly wrong. However, the important point now wasn’t about accessing information. He hid his irritation at the other party who was being sarcastic about a tangential matter. He decided not to mention further the fact that he had accessed information and looked up the phone number’s registration to find out the name and personal details. Ignoring the other’s words, he brought up what needed to be said now.
“Three days later, that man was discharged, and after that, Geun-yeong met him once more outside the hospital.”
“Outside the hospital?”
Kyung Jiho was curious about exactly how much the man knew, so he asked again.
“There’s a restaurant alley behind the hospital. During a dinner there, Geun-yeong left the gathering and later returned in the car from the photo. We couldn’t see the license plate at that time, but it’s definitely the same car.”
This meant he was being watched from somewhere even then. Kyung Jiho felt a chill. Something that felt like anger was creeping up from his gut, traveling along his forearm and down to make his fist itch—if he wasn’t careful, he might end up throwing a punch. Kyung Jiho clenched both his molars and his fist.
Unaware of the state of the fist hidden by the crossed arms, the man pointed to the photo displayed on the phone and shared his thoughts.
“I think the man who took Geun-yeong in this car and the gangster Geun-yeong met at the hospital are the same person. No, actually, they must be. The timing matches too.”
Taking two figures with absolutely no connection, one being a gangster covered in dragon tattoos and the other driving a suspicious car with untraceable registration, and concluding they were the same person—this guy had pretty good intuition.
“I think they’re the same person too.”
Credit where credit is due. But at this point, there was something that needed to be clarified.
“Why did you investigate on your own instead of filing a missing person report?”
What was he so worried about that he couldn’t even file a report? It wasn’t that he truly didn’t know the reason for asking. The real reason probably had to do with the bruise marks on Ji Geun-yeong’s wrists. Not that he expected the man to confess the truth. He just wanted to hear what kind of explanation he would give about that part.
“Both I and Geun-yeong are in positions where we can’t afford to cause social problems. I wanted to resolve this as quietly as possible.”
Kyung Jiho almost snorted. Well, fine. He uncrossed his arms and brought his body forward, closing the distance he had been maintaining. Now, let’s see how he’d answer this question—pointing at the phone with his index finger, he asked:
“Based on the photo, it looks like your son is getting into the car voluntarily. In that case, wouldn’t it be more accurate to see this as running away rather than a disappearance or abduction? Were there any conflicts at home that might have led him to decide to run away?”
Ji Seokhun didn’t answer immediately. He stared at Kyung Jiho’s face and gave a faint smile.
“It’s indeed difficult to hide things from someone of your caliber in law enforcement.”
And then another moment of silence. With determination showing on his tightly closed lips, the man said:
“My son, Geun-yeong, suffers from diabetes. Not ordinary diabetes, but Type 1 diabetes. He needs continuous insulin injections, and even a brief lapse in medication or daily routine can cause him to go into shock from hyperglycemia or hypoglycemia—it’s a very dangerous condition. He had to strictly control his diet, and there were many rules to follow in daily life, so I had to constantly remind him. I was strict with Geun-yeong because I wanted perfect management. Of course, I did it for his health, but I think he felt suffocated by it and might be having a belated rebellion.”
If he hadn’t seen the traces of violence on Ji Geun-yeong’s wrists, he might have completely accepted the man’s logical explanation. Even if strict management was necessary, tying his hands and committing acts of violence were unacceptable, inhumane actions. Kyung Jiho seized the moment when the seemingly highly sanitized and selective story paused to ask:
“Then, don’t you think about just letting him have this rebellion? He’s an adult who can take care of himself. Plus, he’s a medical student.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
The man, who seemed about to sigh, raised his already cold eyes to an even more chilling level and said:
“I’m the only one who can manage Geun-yeong’s illness. I’ve been remotely adjusting his insulin dosage by synchronizing the monitor on his arm with his insulin pump when his blood sugar fluctuates. But now that he’s removed the monitor from his arm, I can’t regulate it anymore. Soon, problems will definitely arise, and I hope such a thing doesn’t happen.”
Speaking so rapidly that one might wonder if he was even breathing, Ji Seokhun’s face partially revealed his inner thoughts: as if you could understand this even if I explained it. Kyung Jiho didn’t miss that expression either.
Having to soften his expression a bit due to his opponent’s fierce gaze, which was no less chilling than his own, Ji Seokhun took a moment to catch his breath and said:
“That’s why I’m asking Officer Lee Dongjae directly. I would appreciate if you could tell me the whereabouts of that man, Kyung Jiho, from that time. I need to find Geun-yeong. Within 24 hours.”
24 hours?
The time condition seemed quite unnatural. The diabetes Jiho knew about wasn’t such an urgent condition measured in seconds. The diabetic patient Jiho had recently encountered was an elderly person who would cry out that they were experiencing hypoglycemia when situations were unfavorable, but the actual readings showed no real problem. To Jiho, diabetes was that kind of condition.
However, he couldn’t claim to know everything about the diabetes called “Type 1.” It seemed he needed to learn more about that.
But that didn’t mean he was going to readily hand over to this suspicious man with many secrets the kid who had been struggling so much that he was sobbing at a bus stop.
“I understand. Since that Kyung Jiho fellow moves around quite a bit, I can’t tell you his exact location right now, but there are a few places he might be. I’ll contact you as soon as I find out his current whereabouts.”
“Thank you.”
They both stood up without anyone needing to go first. As Kyung Jiho turned and walked away, unable to control his shitty mood, Ji Seokhun called after him.
“Please hurry.”
Having failed to arrive at work early enough to resolve it with a half-day morning leave, Kyung Jiho ended up taking a full day off.
Since it wasn’t the first time that “Kyung bastard” had acted on his own, and despite this, his performance was good, the team leader approved it with a retort: “Why are you asking something so unlike you? Just do what you want like usual.”
Jiho headed straight back home. Although he had silenced Yang Hwa-ja, there was no telling what other methods that suspicious man might employ. Since he knew Jiho’s resident registration number, a property registry lookup was just a matter of time.
A hollow laugh escaped him as he thought about the names that would appear when his registry was opened, and the facts that might be discovered by digging deeper through those names. And befitting that hollow laugh, it quickly cooled.
Whatever.
With a cold face after erasing the incident and people he had decided were no longer relevant to his life, Kyung Jiho quickly reduced his speed near camera enforcement zones and then pressed the accelerator vigorously again.
Track 7. One more light
It wasn’t a wealthy neighborhood where two cars per household were common. During weekday afternoons when most residents were at work, there were few parked cars in the row house complex and many empty spaces.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
