Life's Second Round (3)
Her red lips parted once more.
"A deal is something that happens between equals. Without either side getting the short end of the stick... That man thinks he's on my level. Me, Hong Gye-young!"
'That man?'
Yang Jin-ho's eyes flicked rapidly. The woman who kept every man in the world at her feet had just used the pronoun "man" for him.
"Find me a decent car... No, scratch that. I'll handle it. Just put in a request for some support to Gangcheon Police Station in the name of Taehwa Motors. Whatever helps their manpower."
"Is there really any need to send that kind of support to Gangcheon? It's too flashy a move."
"That's the point—to make it flashy."
"Pardon?"
"The intel he sent me came through official Gangcheon channels. No way the chief didn't see it."
"Then...?"
"Gangcheon's chief is that bootlicker Kim Dong-sik. Eyes blinded by favors. Kang Cheol-gu's dad is the police academy dean. Awkward all around. Ignore the detective's request? Accept it? So he tossed the hot potato to me. Decide whether to scrap it or nurture it... Now I need to show him my choice."
"Understood."
Hong Gye-young nodded faintly as she sipped from her long-cold teacup.
"It's sudden, but it works out perfectly. It's time to refresh our police connections. I need a blade I can wield myself—not some old fogey obsessed with clinging to his seat. Someone fresh and crazy like that man earlier..."
Even as the horrific words left her mouth, a flush crept across her cheeks.
* * *
Stepping out through the revolving doors of the Taehwa Building, he turned and looked up at the 35th floor, the penthouse level. He craned his neck all the way back, but the skyscraper's peak vanished into the haze. He exhaled deeply, like a boxer unleashing a flurry to end his opponent's life. Every word traded had been a strike at vital points. Today's sales pitch had been a triumph.
Hong Gye-young. A woman who worshipped raw ability. He'd sold himself to someone who despised the talentless. She'd see him as a pawn on her chessboard or a handy knife. But pawns that keep advancing take the king, and a blade turned back cuts the wrist that wields it.
The secret Taehwa balance sheet he'd dangled came from a mole planted by "that guy." In the past, during a national audit, "that guy" had used this very source to debut as a hearing star. Taehwa took a massive hit, while the star rose as a hero blocking chaebol entrenchment. But a group like Taehwa would quickly trace where this classified leak came from. And who was baring teeth at them.
The Korando's engine roared to life. At a red light, he glanced in the rearview—the Taehwa Building's 35th floor, now clearly visible where it hadn't been before.
* * *
"I-Is this for real? Support for our station... from Taehwa Motors?"
Kim Dong-sik's forehead gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He wielded absolute power inside the station, but his hands trembled faintly on the phone.
- "Yes, it's the president's directive."
Yang Jin-ho's voice from the receiver was dry. Arrogantly stiff for addressing a mere station chief, but seamless, like they'd done this dance before.
"Got it. Please convey my deepest thanks to the president."
Even after hanging up, Kim stared at the receiver in his hand.
"...Fuck me! How the hell did that bastard pull this off to get Taehwa kissing our ass like this?!"
He slammed the phone down, chest heaving. At first, when he'd gotten that absurd memo from Detective Kang Cheol-gu, he'd rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Never mind the source—daring to poke the almighty Taehwa? He'd written it off as bravado from an ignorant thunderbolt-head. The thrill of rage faded, and his narrowed eyes sharpened.
'This could be a chance to blow my nose without using my hands.'
If Taehwa was sweating this memo, it was a shot to flaunt the station's intel and his own clout. In capitalist society, your worth tied straight to your pull. If they pushed back and cut ties, he could pin it all on the greenhorn lieutenant's naive fuckup. That had been his play...
'A small token of Taehwa's appreciation for police working day and night for public safety.' That was the official line for this support. But everyone knew the real beneficiary.
A beastly roar erupted from the chief's office.
* * *
"Detective Kang Cheol-gu, what the hell happened?"
Lieutenant Hwang Woo-sik, breathing hard right up to his chin, gasped out the question.
"What do you mean?"
"Taehwa is donating full police gear to our station. A whole billion won's worth! Riot gear, new tasers, radio sets—the works! When you sent that memo and marched into Taehwa, I thought it was the last I'd see of you. What kind of magic did you work?!"
"Eh, we just clicked."
He smirked and continued. "More importantly, how's the team shaping up? Put Kim Gwang-il as my field partner."
Team Leader Hwang's jaw dropped wide, staring at him like a monster.
* * *
The station buzzed.
"Heard about the Taehwa donation?"
"Who hasn't? Place is chaos. We're thrilled, but why's Taehwa doing this?"
"Overheard something..."
Violent Crimes Team 1 Leader Seo Dong-gyun's voice dropped.
"That new transfer, Kang Cheol-gu. Word is he took some Taehwa dirt straight to them!"
"Crazy bastard! Blackmailing Taehwa? A fresh lieutenant?"
"Like that'd stick. They could erase a nobody lieutenant without breaking a sweat. But they sent him off with gifts in both hands. Get it?"
"...Official claim on him. So what about the chief? He's been strutting with Taehwa backing him."
"Swan egg in the Nakdong River now. Hey, shouldn't we jump on the new line?"
"Fuck that—kiss up to that blood-clot punk? I ain't doing it!"
"Oh yeah? If pride's that precious, go ahead. Me with three kids? Pride's optional."
Team 2 Leader Gwon Tae-sang tossed his empty paper cup in the trash and stood.
* * *
Three weeks into his stint at Gangcheon Police Station. The colleagues who'd dismissed him at first stopped nitpicking his work. Especially Team 2 Leader Gwon Tae-sang's over-the-top friendliness bordered on awkward. He reviewed and clipped upcoming cases in his spare time. And that day arrived.
* * *
At lunchtime, he headed out alone. Pedestrians passed peacefully, nothing amiss. He picked up a payphone in the subway.
"Hello? Emperor Massage?"
- "Yes, how can I help?"
The manager's low voice rumbled through.
"You got... uh, who was it? Right! Kim Yang working today?"
He channeled a sleazy playboy vibe to the hilt.
- "We have three Kim Yangs. Got a full name?"
"Lemme think... Big tits, total bombshell. Ah! Right—Mi-ran. Kim Mi-ran in today?"
- "Haha, you've got an eye, boss. Mi-ran's our ace. Where to?"
The manager perked up, sniffing a regular.
"Kinda urgent... Can you send her straight to Room 406 at Boga Suite Motel by Gangcheon Station?"
- "No problem. Thirty minutes."
"Oh wait! I'm in a rush and broke. How 'bout 30,000 won just for today?"
- "...What? Fuck off, you jinx—don't call back, asshole!!"
The manager hung up roughly. Heart pounding, he confirmed Kim Mi-ran was on shift. History matched what he knew. The future hadn't deviated. Now... just wait for the incident.
* * *
A week earlier, Yang Jin-ho had rolled up with a "gift from President Hong"—a matte black off-roader with wide tires, engine tuned to 390 horsepower. The monster pulled into the station lot, keys handed straight to him amid stares from every detective. A handwritten note from Hong Gye-young dangled from the rearview.
[Hope none of the bad guys you're smashing have ties to Taehwa.]
Amusing woman. He found himself nodding.
* * *
"Hey, Lieutenant Kang. What's the intel that has us staking out like this?"
Late afternoon. Patrolman Kim Gwang-il murmured from the Jeep Wrangler's passenger seat.
Third day lurking outside "Hanmaum Motel." The projected crime date was May 2nd—today—but they were covering bases. If his memory held, today marked serial killer Yoo Hyeong-cheol's 11th murder. A psycho who'd racked up 20 bodies in just 10 months. Bold enough to fake a police badge. He targeted society's forgotten weaklings, even cannibalizing victims. The case that shook Korea.
* * *
He clocked young women entering the motel. Per records, the victim was 27-year-old outcall masseuse Kim Mi-ran. He'd confirmed her shift via the parlor and snagged her photo from the case file. Then a black Starex pulled up, and a woman got out.
"Heads up. Target's here. Vest on?"
"Yes, sir!"
He checked his holstered gun and signaled Kim. Stumbling drunk-style, he tailed her, noting the elevator floor: 3. He flashed three fingers at Kim Gwang-il, then rode up with Kim Mi-ran.
"So... I'll grab the room, you hurry over... Told the madam already. No worries."
Kim Mi-ran glanced at him in the elevator mirror—classic look for a daytime drunk calling up a girl. He pretended to talk on the phone, dodging her eyes. Her back headed to 304. Matched the case logs. He and Kim took position outside.
"Lieutenant Kang, what's the play? Outcall sting?"
Kim whispered.
"Nah, she's the victim. Our target's the fucker inside. Lose him, and we're stripping down."
"Strip? I busted my ass on the civil service exam for this gig!"
Kim Gwang-il grumbled. No tension in his voice. Just like the guy. He checked his piece. The cold steel rousing every cell in his body.