Criminal Boy (2)
“Bro, I get where you're coming from, but that's Jungcheon-gu. There's such a thing as jurisdiction, you know. Us sticking our noses into that case would be overstepping our bounds.”
“I know. Today, we're just going to pay a visit.”
Kim Gwang-il in the passenger seat kept furrowing his brow.
“Anyway, what'd you find out about that thing I told you to look into?”
“Ah, but this is bigger than I thought.”
Gwang-il buried his face in the file folder and stuck out his tongue.
“They use the juvie delinquents as shields for anything that seems even a little risky, while they slip away clean. From theft to abducting and luring minors, even academy violence. Ha! Even though these are all criminal cases despite the minors involved, almost all of them got settled with victim agreements. There's only one referral to the juvenile court, and even that ended with just Protective Disposition No. 2.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“This punk's dad is Jin Hwi-jae, the famous land baron and president of Yeongjin Construction. He's on bro terms with police chiefs everywhere and all the big shots. I get how you feel, bro. A kid's future got smashed at just 15—anyone would see red. But realistically, it's impossible. Say we barge into another jurisdiction, dig it up, and make an arrest somehow. They still won't get a proper sentence.”
Gwang-il stared out the window, avoiding my gaze.
“You might call me materialistic for saying this, but bro, you're about to make inspector soon. You've got bigger things to do from a higher place. I hope you'll just let this one slide.”
I knew Gwang-il well. If this case had been assigned to him, he'd have charged in headfirst no matter how much I tried to stop him. Knowing his sincerity made even his cowardly suggestion to bury it feel endearing.
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
“You think I'm doing this over some kid who gave up on his dreams?”
“……”
“Or that I'm some idealist who believes the law treats everyone equally?”
I shook my head.
“Nah. I basically don't trust this country's legal system. The laws made by the legislature—or more precisely, by the vested interests—are just tools to protect their rice bowls.”
“...Then why?”
“Why pick a reckless fight?”
“Yeah.”
“Who said it's reckless? I only fight battles I can win.”
A heavy rumble echoed from the Jeep's engine. Up ahead, Jungcheon Police Station came into view.
* * *
“I've heard the rumors. Inspector Kang Cheol-gu—no, you're up for promotion soon, right? Should I call you Inspector Kang Cheol-gu?”
The middle-aged Gwak Du-sik looked unfamiliar. He huffed roughly and lifted his chin.
“I know you've been popping big cases lately and your head's swollen with it. Fine, I get it—achieving that much at your age would make anyone's eyes spin. But! There's jurisdiction, and there's hierarchy. What the hell are you doing barging into someone else's turf? Transferring the case? Who do you think you are, the special investigations unit? Hell, even they aren't this rude!”
“Are you going to investigate this case or not?”
“What?”
I handed over the case files Gwang-il had given me.
“Look at the history. Does this look like a juvenile case to you, team leader? And out of all these crimes, there's only one juvenile referral.”
“Why's that our fault? Take it up with the courts.”
Familiar lines. The same crap this guy spouted every time he buried or downplayed a case.
I took a deep breath.
“There's a cop I know.”
I stepped closer to Gwak Du-sik.
“Who took backroom money from local bigwigs.”
Our eyes met. His burned with murder.
“And covered up cases for them.”
He was glaring like he wanted to kill me. He pressed his eye sockets as if to control his emotions, but his neck had flushed red to the roots.
“Kekeke. Do I have to take this crap from a green rookie like you? Hey, Inspector Kang! Can you back up that accusation?”
“I'm not pointing fingers at anyone specific. And you're mistaken about something.”
I shoved the signature section of the files right in his face.
“Juvenile referrals aren't just done by prosecutors or courts. Police chiefs can do it too, and in this case, it was Jungcheon Station Chief Na Sang-yeon himself. If you didn't know, you're incompetent. If you did, you're complicit. So which is it?”
BAM!
“What? Incompetent? Complicit? You think you can just say whatever and get away with it? If you're so great, do it yourself. If you're confident, drag 'em to court! I won't interfere.”
Gwak Du-sik slammed the file folder to the floor and grabbed my collar. The entire Jungcheon Police Station went dead silent.
My lip curled softly.
“...You said it clearly. For me to do it myself. And that you won't interfere.”
Gwak Du-sik's gaze slowly dropped to the file folder he'd thrown. Sweat beaded on his flushed neck.
* * *
“Bro, what the hell was that commotion about?”
“Connections between local power players aren't new. Unless it's a major crime like murder, cases get rigged and fade from memory. To get a real investigation, this one needs to surface. ...And Jungcheon Station has a 'satsumarari.'”
Satsumarari. Slang for the social affairs rookie reporter stationed at a police station.
Detective Kim Gwang-il's pupils shook. Only then did he recall the two or three people who'd been filming the scene on their phones when Inspector Kang Cheol-gu had stirred things up.
“...You picked that fight from the start to bait them?”
He swallowed hard and asked.
“Rookie reporters are trained to stick to the facts they see—no interpretations or analysis. What they saw today: 'The team leader at this station couldn't even grasp a case in his own jurisdiction, and an out-of-area cop called him out on it.' Let's watch and see. I threw a stone in the pond—something's bound to ripple up.”
I spoke calmly, but my mind raced. Gwak Du-sik's heated words kept echoing.
If you're confident, drag 'em to court yourself!
It wasn't just backroom bribes. There was something even an active violent crimes team leader couldn't touch lightly.
* * *
Rutina, Jungcheon-gu's top Japanese restaurant. In a private room that took reservations only, a middle-aged man kept gulping water.
The moment he checked his watch again, the door opened and a portly man entered.
“Station Chief, sorry I'm a bit late.”
“Oh, no, President Jin Hwi-jae. I just got here myself.”
Jungcheon Station Chief Na Sang-yeon shot to his feet.
“Why didn't you start eating?”
“How could I eat alone without you, President Jin?”
“True, food tastes better shared.”
“Exactly. Well said.”
Na Sang-yeon kept shrinking before the man's hearty laugh.
“You know in two months, you'll be family, right, Station Chief? A little early, but here's my card.”
The crisp business card read 'Yeongjin Construction Executive Director Na Sang-yeon' in bold letters.
“I know national service is tough—low pay, heavy workload. Once we're family, we'll do well together.”
“Of course. I'll give it my all.”
“But I've been hearing strange rumors.”
Na Sang-yeon's back instantly went damp.
Here it comes.
“Some Kang Cheol-gu from Gangcheon Station? The guy who caused a scene at Jungcheon?”
“My apologies.”
“You know it's already hit the news desks?”
It was expected. Reporters hungry for police corruption wouldn't pass up a free meal like that.
“I'm sorry. I failed to rein in my subordinate...”
“The reason I'm bringing you into the family is your connections and management skills. But incidents like this make me wonder if I misjudged you.”
“I'll handle it—somehow, I'll clean it up!”
No more escalation. Kang Cheol-gu's dad was an issue, but in two months, I'd be out of uniform anyway.
“These days, young hotshots keep popping up. All eyes are on the top.”
“...I understand perfectly.”
The 'Yeongjin Construction Executive Director Na Sang-yeon' card burned into his eyes. The station chief bit his lip hard.
* * *
“Tell Woo-cheol to come to my room.”
Entering the house, President Jin Hwi-jae yanked off his tie and said to his wife.
His gaze on Jin Woo-cheol—head bowed, kneeling—was razor-sharp.
“Do you know why I called you?”
“...Yes.”
Jin Woo-cheol, who lorded over teens like a king, spoke in a crawl. His knees trembled faintly.
Jin Woo-cheol knew well. The power that overwhelmed his peers came from his background—and at its center was his father. The moment his father turned away, he'd lose everything. And he knew his father was cold enough to discard even blood if needed.
“It's not about you beating some punk. That's nothing. But! You wrap it up clean. Do I have to hear about my son from the reporters?”
“I was wrong!”
Jin Hwi-jae stood, hands behind his back, gazing at the garden. The night view from the third floor stretched out.
“You know why I let your screw-ups slide?”
“……”
“You're the one inheriting Yeongjin Construction. Business is ultimately defending what's yours and taking what's not. Mergers, acquisitions, M&A—they're just fancy packaging for the same thing. In that sense, you're a solid heir candidate even before you're my son. Ambitious, no hesitation in action. But bold moves demand responsibility and clean finishes. Got it?”
“Yes. I understand.”
His father's ruthless, amoral philosophy stemmed from the crisis of Hae-seong Construction, started by three co-founders including himself.
The two he called uncles had stabbed him in the back, and he was dragged to prison bearing bad debt responsibility.
When Jin Hwi-jae emerged after three years, he was a different man. People mocked him for accepting a powerless co-representative title, but wearing a mask of servility, he quietly built his own faction.
All of Hae-seong's resources flowed to rival Yeongjin Construction. He exposed the cooked books he'd fabricated and ascended as Yeongjin's president.
The hollowed-out Hae-seong soon went bankrupt, and the two ex-friends' founders turned up as cold corpses. Police closed it as suicide with uncanny speed.
“If you're not ruthless, you're no man. My favorite saying. But knowing when to advance and retreat is key. Lay low for a while—no scandals.”
“Yes!”
“Go.”
Once Jin Woo-cheol left, ice-cold Jin Hwi-jae's face melted like snow in the sun.
He's the spitting image of me, no matter how I look!
Jin Woo-cheol was his mirror—the man who'd endured humiliations to claim the throne and plunged a blade into betrayers' hearts.
But his son had no 'deficiencies.' 'Perfect' sounded good but meant no further growth. That's why he'd never shown him warmth.
“Kang Cheol-gu...”
Nodding, Jin Hwi-jae murmured the name lowly. His expression shifted in an instant.
The father was chief security commissioner, and at mid-20s, on track for inspector—a police royalty. With that background at his age, he'd normally rush straight to the station chief who'd issued the referral, flaunting untouchable arrogance.
Especially against a paper tiger with two months to retirement. The choice was obvious.
But he'd drawn maximum eyes, clashing with the on-site team leader.
If it was all calculated...
His caterpillar brows twitched.