“No, that’s, I…”

　　In his panic, Seongsik almost blurted out the exact same excuses suspects always used: When did I do that? I didn’t do anything.

　　After studying Yun Seongsik’s face for a moment, Baek Haegyeon continued, still wearing that faint, barely-there smile.

　　“You must have been very curious about my estranged family. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice, but you were being far too loud about it.”

　　His tone, hovering somewhere between polite and casual, was strangely hostile. Considering the gap in their ranks, talking down to him wasn’t unusual, but a sharp, aggressive edge flashed in his unblinking stare.

　　Yun Seongsik stared blankly at the man’s lips as they parted and closed, offering a foolish reply.

　　“I apologize. It wasn’t really a background check. It’s just that you passed the bar exam and have such a unique history, so I was just a little…”

　　He bobbed his head in an automatic, awkward nod, fully aware of how pathetically he was groveling.

　　“I’m sick of saying this every time, but… you don’t need to worry about me. Even if I did grow up in that kind of family.”

　　“Ah, I was—” Yun Seongsik hurriedly tried to make an excuse, but Baek Haegyeon cut him off.

　　“I’ve always wanted to be a righteous cop, you see.”

　　A subtle sense of dissonance washed over Yun Seongsik. Why was that? It was common for young cops in their twenties, fresh on the force, to go on about being a “righteous cop.” Yun Seongsik himself had done the same when he was intoxicated by the ideals of the police academy. Baek Haegyeon was also in his twenties.

　　And yet, hearing it from him felt so out of place that it was almost chilling.

　　“Yes… It’s not my place to worry about you, sir.”

　　At the meek reply, Baek Haegyeon cast a sidelong glance at him, a faint trace of amusement on his face.

　　“But why do you have that look on your face, Mr. Yun?”

　　“…Excuse me?”

　　DING.

　　Thankfully, the elevator chime rang out right on cue. Yun Seongsik snapped his head up to look at the doors as they began to open.

　　“Don’t do anything bad. One little push and you spill everything.”

　　With a playful smirk, Baek Haegyeon turned and walked out first. Watching his broad back, Yun Seongsik trudged forward like a rusty machine, his face still flushed red.

　　There’s something… strange about that guy. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

　　A neat appearance paired with intimidating words. He was even rude… Wait, was he rude? He was just putting a lower-ranking officer who was acting out of line in his place, so maybe it was just a show of leadership…

　　Like a pendulum, his impressions swung from one extreme to the other. However, emotion is always more certain than reason.

　　Yun Seongsik hated that young gangster bastard. No matter how much he dressed it up with a clean-cut image, a thug’s true colors would always show.

* * *

　　A joint team dinner for the entire Narcotics and Organized Crime Investigation Division was scheduled right around the time signs of internal division began to show at the National Investigation Headquarters. The new Director, Shin Myeongseok, was a man of exceedingly few words.

　　If a commander had a clear style, it was easy to dance to their tune. But a commander who never revealed his inner thoughts made it difficult to figure out where to direct one’s loyalty.

　　This was evident even during the joint meetings between the Narcotics and Organized Crime units. Despite it being an integrated meeting, he would dismiss the Narcotics unit and hold additional sessions solely with Organized Crime, leaving the Narcotics team unable to hide their feelings of alienation.

　　On top of that, an incident occurred that made Narcotics Chief Han Jongmu completely flip his lid. It all started when Baek Haegyeon sent Chief Han the following Pol-message:

　　—Baek Haegyeon (Baek_hg@police.go.kr): Request for Cooperation: Submission of Narcotics Investigation Status and Related Information.

　　Hello. This is Organized Crime Chief Baek Haegyeon. I am requesting information regarding the investigation status (including the list of confiscated items) and related personnel details from the Narcotics teams of all provincial and municipal police agencies nationwide, as detailed below. I kindly ask for your cooperation.

　　Deadline: By April 7th

　　It was a unilateral notification with zero explanation. The Narcotics team leaders erupted in fury, demanding to know who Organized Crime thought they were to pry into Narcotics’ business. They complained that outsiders would think Narcotics were just Organized Crime’s lackeys, asking if this was a declaration of war right out of the gate.

　　Chief Han Jongmu swore he wouldn’t hand over a single document until Baek Haegyeon came down and explained himself in person. However, that resolve only lasted until Director Shin personally marched into the Narcotics department and chewed them out. It was a mystery how Baek Haegyeon had managed to sweet-talk that tight-lipped man.

　　Following that incident, the Narcotics unit banded together, trashing Baek Haegyeon, the Organized Crime unit, and Director Shin Myeongseok at every opportunity. The director subtly empowering Organized Crime without a care for inter-departmental harmony was something the Narcotics unit had never experienced before.

　　Ever since drug distribution became a severe issue in South Korea, the prestige of the Narcotics unit had undeniably surpassed that of Organized Crime, who just beat up street thugs.

　　Grumbles even surfaced that Director Shin, who wasn’t a Police University graduate and lacked regional alumni connections, was doing this on purpose to knock the Police University-dominated Narcotics unit down a peg.

　　I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this takes the cake. If this isn’t reverse discrimination against Police University grads, what is?

　　Amidst the team leaders’ uproar, Yun Seongsik, known as the local gossipmonger, was called in a few times and grilled about whether he knew anything regarding Baek Haegyeon.

　　Having given up on digging into Baek Haegyeon after their encounter in the elevator, Yun Seongsik had no useful information to offer.

　　The colleague he occasionally kept in touch with did nothing but curse Baek Haegyeon’s name.

　　“Our Chief Baek? Why do you keep asking? Seeing how much he works us to the bone, he’s definitely a psychopath. A psycho with insanely good stamina. Our team leader just came back from throwing up. He wasn’t even this bad during the National Assembly audit prep… Fuck, I wanna quit this job.”

　　It was too awkward to ask what exactly the Organized Crime unit was working on, so there was no useful intel to glean.

　　In truth, one of the reasons they were seething was because Baek Haegyeon did nothing but work. No one knew when he clocked in or out; he was always holed up in his office, working away at his own pace, completely indifferent to public opinion.

　　Normally, when someone new transferred in, they were supposed to carefully observe the hierarchy and diligently make the rounds to get on everyone’s good side. That was how you earned a reputation as a “good guy” and ensured a smooth transition.

　　With a joint team dinner being held under these circumstances, it was only natural that the atmosphere was razor-sharp.

　　A damp, unpleasant spring rain had been falling all day. It seemed there were no other idiots who would choose raw fish for a company dinner on a rainy day, as the sushi restaurant’s dining hall was completely empty save for the police officers.

　　Why raw fish on a rainy day? It’s just going to smell fishy. We should’ve just gotten some hot soup.

　　The men gathered in the private room of the high-end sushi restaurant all looked like they were at a funeral. More accurately, the Narcotics team had sour expressions, while the Organized Crime team looked physically dead on their feet from endless, endless overtime.

　　If the gathering had been boisterous, the discord might have been masked, but in this state, their uncomfortable faces couldn’t hide the awkwardness.

　　At least they had ordered an expensive course meal, so it looked the part. The red flesh of the sashimi was fanned out gorgeously like flower petals on the plates, accompanied by countless side dishes.

　　On one side sat a severed fish head. As if to emphasize that the sashimi was fresh despite the rain, the fish’s gills opened and closed while its mouth gaped. The bamboo leaves supporting the massive fish head glistened with moisture.

　　Everyone was already miserable and damp from the driving wind and rain that had soaked them despite their umbrellas; seeing a twitching, wet fish mouth wasn’t going to lift anyone’s spirits.

　　Some even hunched their shoulders, their cold stomachs churning at the faint fishy smell lingering in the air.

　　Like a military barracks during roll call, the more than thirty police officers sat in two rows with Director Shin in the center, their fists resting neatly on their knees.

　　They were trying their best to disguise their dissatisfaction as solemnity. Amidst that silence, a large hand suddenly moved, easily capturing everyone’s attention.

　　A hand gripping a single chopstick like a tool reached across the table.

　　In a flash, the metal chopstick pierced straight through the fish’s head. The head twitched, and clear, foamy water dribbled from the already-dead fish’s mouth.

　　The fish no longer gaped, nor did its gills move. Only the dumbfounded police officers were left gaping like fish.

　　“Wait, ah…”

　　“Chief, what did you just…”

　　Paying no mind to the horrified reactions around him, Baek Haegyeon calmly and meticulously wiped his hands with a wet wipe. Then, he placed the chopstick neatly in front of him.

　　“Fish still have lingering nerves after death, so they can feel pain. I just severed its nerves.”

　　“Ahem…”

　　A logical reason had been provided for the brutal act, but they couldn’t shake the lingering afterimage of his bulging veins and the sound of flesh being pierced in a single strike. Before the unpleasant atmosphere could crush them all, Director Shin spoke up.

　　“Now, now, our National Investigation Headquarters’ Narcotics and Organized Crime Investigation Divisions have finally gathered in one place today. We should have shared a meal together much sooner, but, ah… we’ve all been so busy that we’re only just now making the time. First, raise your glasses.”

　　With the commander’s order given, the designated drink mixers from each unit used practiced hands to concoct drinks with a two-to-one ratio of beer to soju. Even when eating expensive sashimi, the cheap taste of alcohol hit the spot, and the two-to-one ratio was the official recipe for police officers stationed in Seodaemun.

　　“I hope this serves as an opportunity for us to unite under the great purpose of contributing to the public order of South Korea and the safety of its citizens, and to foster harmony among us. Now, cheers!”

　　It happened the moment Director Shin finished his toast.

　　BEEP-BEEP, BEEP-BEEP, BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP…

　　While their glasses were still raised in the air, the notification sounds for the police officers’ Pol-messages rang out simultaneously.

　　What is it? What’s going on?

　　The eyes of the few who checked their Pol-messages first all darted toward one person.

　　[All] Criminal Investigation Bureau Notice

　　Sudden death of Baek Dowon, Executive Director of the criminal organization Hwando. High alert required for backlash from key factions under Baek Dowon.

　　A rare smile bloomed on Baek Haegyeon’s face. The corners of his eyes, darkened by fatigue from staying up for days, softened, and a faint glint of moisture gathered in them. Tearing up from laughing at the news of his father’s death, he discreetly wiped his eyes.

　　“He went in a hurry. What… did he get turned into gimjang^[1]?”

　　His soft, murmuring voice couldn’t hide his joy. He hadn’t even touched his drink yet, but he seemed a little drunk.

Translator’s Note

[1] To become gimjang: literally “to be made into kimchi”; gang slang for being killed in an attack.