Faceless Killer (1)
Grinding his teeth amid the chills, Chief Choi scanned his surroundings. Even in this dire moment, his mind raced at full speed. The boat was about the size of a typical anchovy trawler. With that displacement, there couldn't be more than five or six crew members aboard. Subdue the guys in front of him... no, he didn't need to take them all out. Pin down the freak with the weird tattoo who seemed to be the boss, then use him as a hostage and turn the boat back toward Korea. I'm the king of Sinseon Island. He was confident he could handle three or four village youths even now.
Turning his head, he spotted a small knife used for gutting fish.
Perfect. That'll do it!
With a low grunt, he lunged at the tattooed man. The knife in his hand fueled his confidence.
The tattooed man's lips curled faintly upward. The dark-skinned guys behind him were still snickering. An inexplicable unease washed over him, but there was no turning back now. Chief Choi bit his lip hard.
In an instant, the sky and sea spun around him. His body flipped once, and his face slammed first into the deck. Something felt off in his mouth—probably broken teeth. His tongue detected debris everywhere.
Thud. Thud.
The tattooed man approached slowly and snatched the knife from his hand. As the blade came down, blood sprayed from his ankle.
A scream unlike any he'd ever heard burst from Chief Choi's lips—unfamiliar even to himself, though it was clearly his voice.
The tattooed man looped a net around his foot and tossed him into the sea.
"Even though this guy's old-looking, he's got some fire! I didn't waste my money. Heh. Exactly one year—that's all I want him to last."
With Chief Choi dunked in the ocean, the boat pressed on. The tattooed man's low voice pierced the engine roar and drilled into his ears. Instinctively, he understood the meaning. Tears streamed down, but the white foam erased even those traces in moments.
"Please... pull me up!"
Sensing he'd never touch land again, Chief Choi cried out. His broken teeth garbled the words. And as he screamed at the top of his lungs, a rough wave clamped over his mouth.
* * *
The hospital room felt stuffy yet cozy. Optimized temperature and humidity sped his body's recovery. He shed the patient gown and looked down at his torso. Bandages wrapped it tightly. No stitches needed, but snake-like gashes scarred his flesh everywhere.
Cheon. That was his trophy—and his shackle.
A bitter smile escaped him.
That cliffside fight. Coldly speaking, he'd lost. Speed, skill, experience—all overwhelmed him. The waves from that night still echoed clearly in his ears.
He did push-ups. Sweat poured like rain onto the white sheets. Fresh blood beaded from unhealed wounds.
He stood before the mirror. Cheon's sharp blade flashed in his mind's eye—slicing his shoulder, thrusting at his thigh. Even as he created distance, the blade clung like a shadow on his body, refusing to let go.
He exhaled long and deep. Apart from the burning rage, his breathing steadied.
That was when it happened.
"Replaying that fight?"
A familiar voice filled the room. It was his father.
Whatever pleased him so, his father sat on the bed with a bright smile.
"Just got the report from the Coast Guard. They nabbed that Cheon guy on a nearby islet. Word is, they couldn't arrest him without firearms. Gives me an idea of how tough your battle was."
His father patted his shoulder lightly. Even past middle age, that strength was no joke.
"Turns out he's on Interpol's red notice list. No clue why a guy like that was hiding on that tiny island, though."
Cheon captured? Definitely good news. Sinseon Island's chief, Choi, would never set foot on land again. His vigilante thugs were all arrested, and now the last remnant, Cheon, would face justice. The island's crimes were uprooted.
But his heart wasn't purely joyful. Ironically, it felt like a long-time rival had been stolen away.
His father, watching him, perched on the bed's edge. His gaze on the blood-soaked bandages was warm.
"I know what you're thinking. Sometimes enemies grow you more than friends. I hesitated to tell you about the arrest on my way here—worried you'd disappoint me. Worried my son would. But seeing your eyes now, it was all my needless fear. Press on harder. Get stronger. That's my son, Kang Hyeok's boy."
His father had loomed like a mountain by his side since childhood. He nodded. As a cop, and to take down that man, he had to grow stronger.
Then, boisterous laughter burst as the door flew open.
"Lieutenant Kang! How's the body holding up?"
Sergeant Hwang Woo-sik led, followed by Detective Lee Gyu-cheol and Detective Heo Seon-sil. They carried drink bottles.
And Hwang's face drained white, like he'd seen the grim reaper.
"Gasp! D-Dean!"
"Ah, you're Sergeant Hwang Woo-sik? First time seeing you in person, right?"
Even as his father offered a handshake, Hwang's gaping mouth wouldn't close. Like a private facing a division commander.
"I hear your quick actions saved Cheol-gu. Truly grateful."
"H-Honored!"
The mild-mannered middle-aged man before him was a tiger with hidden claws. Hwang Woo-sik, who'd actually felt Chief Security Commissioner Kang Hyeok's aura, sweated coldly on his forehead.
"Oh, right! This is a gift from Cheol-gu's dad, not the academy dean. Buy your team a meal."
Hwang's hands shook violently receiving the white envelope. His usual sly grin was gone. No wonder—regular cops rarely met a commissioner.
Chuckling, he flipped on the TV to lighten the mood. A pundit on the current affairs show argued earnestly.
[...As such, Joseon's colonization wasn't due to Japanese invasion but a historical inevitability of Korean history, backed by identity theory. Joseon's historical level was merely equivalent to Japan's 10th century...]
"What the fuck is that asshole thinking, spouting such bullshit?"
Forgetting the commissioner right beside him, Hwang spat roughly. His father bit his lip, glaring at the screen.
Seo Chi-yoon. Former judge, now Jeongun University law professor.
* * *
"Pardon? On a broadcast?"
"Haha, no need to tense up. It's NBC's educational current affairs show. Topic's 'Causes and Responses to Violent Crime.' Who else but you? Lieutenant Kang Cheol-gu, ace of Gangcheon Station—no debate there."
Chief Kim Dong-sik patted his shoulder with a sly tone. Ever since that vacation, he'd been noticeably softer. A gesture to keep things friendly for now...
"The PD specifically named you. How many high-profile cases have you cracked that gripped the nation? Says he'll scrap the show without you."
"Any chance I could know the other panelist?"
"That guy popping up everywhere lately... Seo Chi-yoon, current Jeongun University prof."
Seo Chi-yoon? His lips curled involuntarily. Plenty to say to that one.
"Yes, sir. I'll follow orders."
* * *
The broadcast studio was alien territory, his first time.
"Oh my, Detective Kang should've been an idol, not a cop! Your skin takes makeup so well!"
With each touch from the makeup artist, awkward sweat beaded. Makeup...! Better to face a dozen gangsters alone. Never again, he vowed.
Then an unfamiliar voice.
"Well, well, fancy meeting such a VIP here. I'm Seo Chi-yoon."
A mid-50s man, half-bald, extended a hand.
"I've followed your frontline exploits in the media. But on air, I'm the senior—follow my lead...!"
"This show's nature."
He cut him off.
"Isn't a discussion leading to consensus. It's a no-holds-barred debate justifying opposing views with logic and evidence. Or am I mistaken?"
The man's friendly smile froze.
"You said you've seen my exploits in the media? I've watched yours closely too, Professor Seo."
As a judge, he'd handed lenient sentences to unforgivable monsters. Rumors said he went soft fearing his own crimes exposed. Now a professor, he pushed for legalizing prostitution and defended colonial historiography. No kind words would come from his mouth.
* * *
"Heh, so Lieutenant Kang Cheol-gu means ignoring perpetrator rights...? That's your stance?"
"No! Victims' rights must be protected more than perpetrators'."
Seo Chi-yoon polished his thick reading glasses nonstop. Sweat beaded on his half-bald forehead.
"You've emphasized 'victimhood,' Professor. 'Wore a short skirt, got raped. Acted naive, got scammed.' You've stereotyped traits you assume crime victims have. Sounds like the saying 'only fools get hit.' So, question: In all those rulings as a judge, could you confidently say you'd give the same sentence if the victim was your family?"
The audience buzzed.
"You couldn't. Why?"
His shoulders heaved.
"Because you and your family are convinced you'll never be victims? You're societal elites, different from us ordinary folks down here? Isn't that chosen-people ideology at the root?"
Assenting voices erupted from the seats.
"I'll buy it if there's a judge who'd slap even a year on the guy who raped his daughter."
"They hand down plausible sentences, but always tweak with 'however'! Can't rule without 'however'?"
Seo Chi-yoon's face turned ashen.
"Now, debate's heating up. Next topic: Crimes surging from schizophrenia, intermittent explosive disorder, etc. What attitude should we take toward these offenders?"
With the host's mediation, Seo spoke. His eyes twitched with agitation.
"Intermittent explosive disorder—'I can't rationally control emotions.' 98% comorbid with depression, 43% anxiety."
He adjusted his glasses and checked his notes.
"Trendy phrase lately: 'good at anger management.' Mocks criminals with IED turning lamb-like before real violence they can't handle. But that's a huge misconception."
Audience murmured.
"It's a true disease. Rage blacks out judgment and cognition. With treatment...!"
"Your stats pool is flawed from the start."
He interrupted.