Calm Before the Storm (1)
Heo Seon-sil the inspector stared at the chair where the bastard had been sitting just moments ago, her eyes icy cold.
"Gu Cheon-hee's crimes followed a pattern. Men were the raw materials for completing his murders, while women were the finished products on display. Up to that point, it resembled a typical psychopath's modus operandi. A binary mindset dictated by his own twisted causality—classic antisocial personality disorder. ...But there were no traces of sexual assault on the female corpses discovered."
Heo took a sip of her already cold coffee and furrowed her brow.
"A man's sexual urges often manifest similarly to a desire for dominance. The perp had total control over the victim's life and death, the power to do anything he wanted. Yet he deliberately avoided sexual violence? That doesn't make sense."
"Keep going."
Her characteristically impassive gaze turned to me.
"Even right after his arrest, Gu Cheon-hee's behavior was inexplicable. He didn't deny being a psychopath killer. No—he seemed to want that label. Psychopaths don't get leniency in court like depression or diminished capacity. It offered him zero advantage, yet he chose it anyway... which means there was something even worse he desperately wanted to hide."
"So you're saying his warped sexual desires were disguised as a psychopath killer's work?"
"Yes. Gu Cheon-hee would rather be remembered as an incomprehensible serial killer than a pathetic, impotent pervert. Truly a petty last shred of pride."
"Anyway, you did great work. This case wouldn't have been solved without you, Heo."
"No, sir. And..."
Heo Seon-sil, who rarely showed any change in expression, bit her lip and lightly gripped my shoulder.
"...Inspector, I had to say this. Thank you for accepting my input in this investigation."
"What are you talking about? I was the one who got the help."
"I've made suggestions before in other teams, but they were never taken. At best, they called me arrogant; at worst, a sociopath. I was always sidelined from investigations."
"Hey, you're misunderstanding something. No matter which pocket you were stuck in, you'd have punched your way out—you're a sharp tack like that. Having you on our team was my good fortune. You're the one who stepped up first."
Left alone, Heo Seon-sil slowly shook her head.
No. That's not true. Even in Violent Crimes Unit 1, and long before that when I was much younger, people called me a monster. I just made judgments without emotional bias, but they pointed fingers, saying I lacked empathy. You're the only one who's ever recognized me for who I am, Inspector Kang Cheol-gu.
As Heo Seon-sil gazed at the empty interrogation room, Kim Gwang-il came rushing in breathlessly.
"Heo Inspector! What are you doing here by yourself? It's team dinner night. Come on!"
"...Sergeant Kim Gwang-il. It's just the two of us here."
"Y-yeah, but?!"
"Call me noona."
"What?!"
Kim Gwang-il's face flushed beet red as he scratched his head and let out a low sigh.
"...Ahem! Uh, yeah. Noona, hurry up and come on."
Heo Seon-sil watched the sergeant bolt out the door, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her unused facial muscles trembled slightly, but it was a feeling she hadn't experienced in ages.
Thank you. For letting me join a team like this.
* * *
"How's it looking? Still the same?"
"Yeah. Reporters are swarming the front gate. Come on, we're the cops who caught the perp—why are we scared of them and skipping meals?!"
Kim Gwang-il pouted and shook his head vigorously.
"Haha! That's all because our team's too damn good. Yesterday on my way home, there was one lurking in front of my place too. Asking for the secret to our top arrest rate. Enough with the happy worries—let's head out, everyone. The deputy chief gave us a week's vacation and these cash bonuses. No pork belly tonight; we're going all-in on beef till our noses are crooked!"
Hwang Woo-sik pulled a white envelope from his pocket and waved it like a flag.
* * *
In the raucous din, the savory aroma of grilling meat filled the air.
"So what happens to that bastard Gu Cheon-hee now?"
"Nine confirmed murders. Ninety percent chance of the death penalty; even if the judges go nuts, it'll be life without parole. But here's the weird part..."
Gwang-il stuffed his mouth with a lettuce wrap and turned to Hwang.
Hwang glanced subtly at Heo Seon-sil and lowered his voice.
"Up until then, Gu Cheon-hee was so cocky. But after the last interrogation, his attitude flipped. Kept insisting he was guilty, begging for a quick trial and whatever punishment. Wouldn't even hire a lawyer—seemed terrified of what else we might dig up."
All eyes turned briefly to Heo, who was quietly working her chopsticks, then nodded meaningfully.
That was when it happened.
"Check this out. Yoon Kyung-yeong's submitted his resignation from the assembly!"
Gyu-cheol, fiddling with the remote, locked eyes on Yoon Kyung-yeong on the TV.
[Respected residents of Gangcheon-gu, thanks to your overwhelming support, I've had the honor of representing the people for over ten years. You might call me arrogant for saying this, but one thing I can say for sure: throughout my tenure, I've lived and breathed only for Gangcheon-gu.]
The camera panned to crowds cheering Yoon Kyung-yeong's name. The office was so packed it spilled into the hallways and stairs. Amid the throng, a banner reading 'Seoul's Prepared Mayor: Yoon Kyung-yeong' caught the eye.
[As you all know, Seoul is different from other metropolitan areas. This city, worthy of being called a miniature Korea, is what I want to transform into a more humane, livable place.]
The cheers were deafening, nearly shaking the building; some wept. As Yoon Kyung-yeong descended after the interview, a line formed of people reaching to shake his hand.
"The reaction's insane. At this rate, the local elections are a done deal."
"He could've stayed in Gangcheon-gu and coasted to re-election. Guy's got balls of steel."
Unlike the team members marveling in awe, my mind raced furiously.
Yoon Kyung-yeong was following the exact same path as in my previous life. His mercenary tactics might shift moment to moment, but the overall strategy remained unchanged. I'd cut off his hands and feet one by one, without revealing my hand.
* * *
"Congressman, where to now?"
"...It's been a while. Think I'll pay a visit to that one."
Jeong Sun-gyo, who'd served Yoon Kyung-yeong for over a decade, nodded curtly without asking why.
His old suit was rumpled from pushing through the crowd, dust caking his shoes. Yoon sank deep into the back seat and closed his eyes.
So far, everything had gone flawlessly according to plan. Barring any surprises, Seoul's mayoral seat would be his.
He cracked the window, and the city's clamor mixed with exhaust fumes assaulted his nose. A metropolis teeming with ten million souls—he would be its lord. Even the blaring horns sounded like a triumphant march heralding his path.
Two hours later, the car pulled up to a drab gray building.
Cheongha Prison. Located in Gyeonggi Province, it housed mostly white-collar criminals and political prisoners. Known for decent treatment since so many inmates had connections.
Thirty minutes after submitting the visitation form, an 80-year-old man of sturdy build entered in a blue prison uniform. His gaze on Yoon was chilling.
"This isn't a place for scum like you. What wind blew you here?"
"I submitted my resignation from the assembly today."
"...So you're gunning for Seoul mayor?"
"As you know, it's not the final stop. Think of it as a brief waystation. Father."
Lightning cracked from the old man's mouth.
"Shut your trap! You got the right to call me that? After setting up slush funds in my name and pinning all the crimes on me!"
His deep wrinkles quivered with rage.
"I had no choice. A political rookie needs drama to break in. The iron prosecutor shedding bloody tears for social justice, sentencing his own father. The public eats that up."
"...And? Why're you here? To brag about running for mayor? Mock the father you personally threw in here?!"
Yoon Chan, Yoon Kyung-yeong's father, drew a breath to calm his boiling fury, his eyes blazing with undimmed intensity despite his age. Yoon's eyes narrowed as he watched.
"You still trust Um the director?"
"......"
"I've known for ages you were collecting dirt on me, including the slush funds. And that you planned to have Um leak it all."
Yoon pressed his face to the glass partition right in front of the visitation room. His father's yellowed eyes shook violently.
"You don't mean...!"
"People are simple. They flock to living power, not dead loyalty. Now quietly watch from behind those bars as your son becomes king."
The old man's last hope shattered; his knees trembled.
Yoon straightened his suit and rose, the earlier killing intent gone. He took the overcoat from Jeong Sun-gyo with his usual serene demeanor.
"Take good care of Father. And officer, this is a token of my appreciation."
"Oh, no, sir."
The guard waved off the white envelope Yoon offered.
"Please take it. After all, it's a shallow ploy to ease my conscience for dragging my father here with my own hands."
"Don't say that! Everyone knows the resolve with which you stood in that courtroom and passed sentence."
The guard shook his head firmly, eyes filled with conviction.
Jeong Sun-gyo's car merged onto a quiet highway.
"...When did you flip Um, anyway? I had no idea."
"Flip? He could never be my man. Loyal only to Father, through and through."
"Then why mention it...?"
"When do you think a man despairs most? When someone dear dies? No. When he's betrayed. Death leaves hope of finding someone new; betrayal turns even seeking trust into terror. I want Father to despair."
Jeong caught Yoon's closed eyes in the rearview and shuddered with an inexplicable chill.
"Have Lee Soo take out Um the director."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
[Hiroi Izakaya]
Despite its shabby exterior, customers streamed in and out steadily—a hidden gem like those in every neighborhood.
"Thank you. Come again."
"Whoa, that hit the spot. Chef O, same time tomorrow. Haha!"
A man in his forties, white chef's hat marking him as a Japanese kitchen head, saw off his drunken patrons and reentered.
He tilted his head at the black Jeep parked out front for hours but didn't dwell on it.
In the Jeep, he flipped through a worn notebook, fingerprints smudged from constant use. 'Lee Soo' was scrawled inside.
A record of every memory and scrap related to Yoon Kyung-yeong since his regression.
He pulled a black cap low over his face and pushed open the izakaya door.
Ding-a-ling!
"Sorry, we're closed for the day."
He spoke to the man's back without turning, as he prepped for closing.
"Not here to eat."
"I know. You've been waiting out front for three hours."
The man turned, dry towel in hand, lips curling into a smirk.