Joker (1)
Hong Jang-hoon, the company president, celebrated his retirement in 2022 by publishing his autobiography. The book, which candidly revealed the behind-the-scenes stories of the chaebol world that few people knew about, became a bestseller. Separately from that, copies were often stocked in police stations across regions as required reading for general education. The official reason was that you needed to understand the inner workings of chaebol families to conduct investigations properly, but in reality, it was performative administration for the benefit of the high-ranking visitors who occasionally dropped by the stations.
The autobiography was written in a casual conversational format between the president and a writer in his twenties, and in it, he revealed his unique method for judging people.
"I always start with a handshake when I'm introduced to someone."
"Doesn't everyone do that? What's so special about it?"
"Tsk tsk! Back in my prime, I could crush three or four walnuts with one hand. Imagine what happens when I grip someone's hand like this?"
"A normal person would feel intimidated. Especially if the other person is the CEO of a major corporation..."
"Right. At first, you just give a light handshake. Then, suddenly, you crush their hand with all your strength. Their reaction splits into exactly two types."
"How so?"
"Most people go pale with shock. They can't even say it hurts—they just break out in cold sweat."
"...And the other reaction?"
"The real men fight back, trying to overpower me. They charge in with fire in their eyes, like they're proving they can stand up to a chaebol owner! Tsk tsk."
"Ah! So the type of person you're looking for is someone like that?"
"Haha! Neither one."
Hong Jang-hoon gripped my hand in return. Even in his mid-sixties, he had the natural grip of a born dealmaker that could overwhelm one or two grown men. His lips curled up, and then the pressure like a hydraulic press started bearing down on me. I met it calmly with equal force. Veins bulged on the back of his hand, his lips pressed tight as his grip intensified, and I quietly matched it. If this were just a contest of strength, I could make him scream right now, but this wasn't the place for that.
This bizarre standoff, with our clasped hands trembling mercilessly, lasted about a minute. Then a hearty laugh burst from his mouth.
"Haha! Kang Cheol-gu, right? You're a fun one!"
Hong Gye-young, who had been watching us breathlessly, finally let out a sigh of relief.
Not lacking, not overdoing it, not groveling, not showing off his power. Someone who could adjust his own line to match the opponent's—that was the type of person President Hong Jang-hoon wanted. And the deputy who had caused a stir with his unconventional promotion was the only one who had passed this test.
"Our Gye-young here doesn't have many friends because she's always working. Be a good friend to her from now on."
"Dad! Stop it. What do you mean 'good friend'!"
Amused by his pouting daughter, President Hong Jang-hoon let out a big laugh as he looked back and forth between me and Hong Gye-young.
* * *
"It must have been nice seeing your daughter after so long."
"Haha! Do I look like it?"
Nam Si-woong, the executive secretary, cautiously spoke up as he glanced at President Hong Jang-hoon through the rearview mirror.
"Do you know this guy Kang Cheol-gu?"
"I've heard he's the police officer whose name is making waves lately."
"Look into him a bit."
With that short order, President Hong Jang-hoon leaned back deeply in the rear seat and closed his eyes.
'He seems like a decent guy, but a father's heart is always uneasy when it comes to his daughter.'
* * *
Thud, thud! Everywhere Violent Crimes Team 3 walked, the air grew heavy. People whispering and pointing at us would turn away the moment our eyes met.
It was the commendation ceremony for outstanding proactive public officials at Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency headquarters. After reviewing 703 candidates from the 17 provincial police agencies nationwide, only 24 had made it through the fierce competition. And out of those, four were from Gangcheon Station's Violent Crimes Team 3.
It was unprecedented in Korean police history for so many from a single station—and a single team—to be promoted like this. No wonder everyone from fresh sergeants just pinning on their badges to precinct captains eyed us—from patrol officers to inspectors.
Team 3 was dying under the scrutiny, of course.
"Ugh! Team Leader Hwang, I feel like I'm gonna burst—I need the bathroom so bad."
"Hold it! Gwang-il. If they see you weak here, we're done. I'm about to explode myself!"
"That's why I told you to pop a Hui Chun Dan like me."
From Gwang-il, whose face had turned yellow, to Team Leader Hwang sweating bullets, to Gyu-cheol soothing them in a low voice—everyone was choking on tension. People murmured around us, noting our stiff, frozen faces.
"Those guys are Gangcheon Station's Violent Crimes Team 3? Look at them, all tensed up!"
Gwang-il wanted to scream that they weren't tensed—they were frozen solid.
"Let 'em be. Honestly, what kind of district is Gangcheon-gu? It's the least populous and lowest-crime area out of Seoul's 25 districts. And they cracked all those major cases there? That Balbari case stumped even the Public Security Bureau."
"...True, but it still rubs me the wrong way."
Gazes of acknowledgment, encouragement, envy, and jealousy kept coming our way.
The moment we climbed the stairs and sat in the main auditorium, a familiar voice called out.
"Kang Cheol-gu! Hey, long time no see."
"Woo-seop, fancy seeing you here."
Jeon Woo-seop. A Police Academy buddy who graduated second in our class after losing out to me.
"Congrats, man. You've been flying high since academy days, and now you're surging ahead. Should I call you Inspector Kang now? Haha."
"Cut the formal crap. Where are you stationed now?"
"Yongin Precinct Violent Crimes right now, heading to Public Security on special recruitment."
"Public Security usually requires three years in investigations. As expected from the ace."
"Nah, come on. Can't compare to the youngest superintendent ever."
A bitter smile played on Jeon Woo-seop's lips. Back in academy, I'd just seen him as competitively driven, but now, with ten years regressed, it was clear. The emotion shadowing his eyes was jealousy.
"Everyone, please stand! The Senior Superintendent is entering!"
Regular promotions happened at local stations, but this special one, aimed at boosting morale across the force, was at headquarters. One by one, we went up to the podium and saluted.
"The Police Agency Director himself is pinning the badges. What if I collapse here? Total embarrassment."
Gwang-il whispered in a dying voice while waiting his turn. The guy who wouldn't flinch in front of sashimi-wielding gangsters was whining.
"Loyalty! Reporting: Patrolman Kim Gwang-il is promoted to Sergeant effective October 2, 2013. Reporting complete."
Gwang-il's voice boomed through the hall as if he'd never been nervous, and then my name was called. As I climbed the short two-meter stairs, past memories flashed by.
Some might envy it as a super-fast promotion less than a year after commissioning. But it had actually taken over ten years to reach these stairs.
The moment the two mugunghwa badges symbolizing superintendent went on, cheers erupted amid camera flashes. My father in the audience clapped with a forced stern face, but his upturned lips betrayed him.
The ceremony wrapped up smoothly. As I watched colleagues grinning for family photos, a familiar voice rang out.
"Congrats! Not Lieutenant Kang anymore—Superintendent Kang now."
"Captain, thanks for coming."
Lee Myeong-ho, head of 22nd Precinct Security, handed me flowers. A superintendent giving flowers to a new one? As I tilted my head, he leaned in and murmured slyly.
"What do you think? Join Police Security if you're up for it. You'd look great rappelling from a chopper in tactical gear."
"Hey now! What are you saying? The flower of investigation is white-collar crime. Superintendent Kang, I'm Ji Cheong-seok from Yongin Station. We're recruiting for investigations—let's grab a meal sometime."
"Hey, you..."
A precinct chief from another district with four mugunghwa badges wedged between us, handing over his card. The two, who seemed like old pals, traded subtle jabs before bursting into laughter.
* * *
"How long are those two gonna keep strutting around?"
Gyu-cheol sighed softly, staring out the window. We'd gotten half-day leave after the event, but everyone returned to Gangcheon Station like it was planned.
Unlike me and Gyu-cheol, who had changed out of uniform, Team Leader Hwang and Gwang-il paraded around in full dress, badges gleaming.
They swaggered past the gate sentry, then started helping park the vending machine service truck.
"Alright, alright. Aaaah! Team Leader Hwang, the badge is too heavy—I can't salute! My shoulder's gonna pop!"
"Four unopened mugunghwa petals feel heavy? Quit whining! These two blooming mugunghwa bear the weight silently... Alright! Not that side—the other way!"
Their voices drifted through the open window. Hot-headed Gwang-il, who couldn't stand injustice, and sly Team Leader Hwang, who saw through people—the two seemed opposites but were alike. It had been so long since I'd seen them this bright.
Violent Crimes Team 3 in 2023 had always been dark. The chief shoved us into container boxes for "cost-cutting," and we got nothing but petty cases that didn't count for evals. Behind it all was me, the ugly duckling after Dad's death, and the team endured it silently with me.
Yeah. This is fine.
Turning, I saw Officer Heo Seon-sil focused on paperwork amid the office buzz.
"Officer Heo, you okay?"
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
"Gwang-il's the junior. Must be weird having a later joiner become your superior."
"Doesn't matter. Police run on rank, not seniority."
"...Right. How're you handling titles?"
"I use formal speech with Sergeant Kim Gwang-il, and he uses it with me."
Her typing paused briefly.
"When no one's around, he told me to call him noona."
"...Gwang-il went along with that?"
"I crushed his initial rebellion with seniority."
As I tilted my head at the odd vibe, Detective Lee Gyu-cheol's voice tensed on the extension phone.
"Bro! Urgent from the precinct. Code zero—murder case!"
* * *
Onlookers crowded outside the police line. From a detective's view, their thrill at confirming their own safety through another's death felt cruel sometimes.
"Alright, let's go in. Who's the duty officer here?"
"Me."
A short-haired officer in his early thirties raised his hand.
"Secure the first witness and control the civilians tight."
The semi-basement of a three-story multi-household building. Amid the murmurs, my mind raced down the stairs. No murders in our area in 2013, at minimum. I couldn't forget a code zero.
Was history twisting again? Post-regression, known major national cases followed their path, but local ones around Gangcheon-gu deviated slightly from what I remembered.
At the bottom, a shabby door labeled B03 had a secondary police line. I returned the salute from the two controlling officers and opened the rusty steel door.
Gyu-cheol swallowed hard beside me. Cheap women's shoes littered the entryway, and a faint metallic blood scent stung my nose. After shoe covers and gloves, I gripped the inner doorknob.
Even with the door shut, a chill draft seeped in. The victim was inside. A new murder I had no memory of.
As I opened the door, Gyu-cheol gulped again.
Clatter! His dropped flashlight rolled across the floor.