Octopussy Gate (1)
New aphrodisiacs have such a short half-life that when mixed with alcohol, no traces can be detected even by drug tests after just an hour and a half. The unusual part is that victims dosed with it don't pass out like they're blackout drunk—they can walk upright freely and communicate normally, appearing perfectly fine on the surface. Dubbed the Octopussy Gate, this new drug scandal rocked Korea two years from now, in 2015.
Why the hell is that incident happening now?
"Where's Woo Cheong-su right now?"
"We're just about to release him. No evidence from the footage or drug test, so we have no grounds to hold him longer."
"Can I check his personal details?"
"...We can, but what are you planning this time? I get anxious as hell every time you make that face!"
Pouting, Detective Hwang still swiftly rifled through the file folder.
* * *
A black Mustang GT tore through the heart of Gangnam. Fast-beat music blasted from the aftermarket speakers, building to a crescendo.
Woo Cheong-su drummed the steering wheel, humming along. Then his phone rang. His eyes narrowed at the caller ID.
"Hey! It's me. That stuff you gave me this time? Goddamn effective. Heh! The girls were like they'd been possessed—totally clueless. They threatened to sue for false accusation, crawling on their knees, begging. Gives me an excuse to meet up a few more times. Too good to waste on just once, y'know. ...Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about the money—just hit me up when you get more."
Hanging up, his eyes burned red. This batch from his regular MD was leagues beyond the cheap potions he'd used before. It wasn't like screwing a corpse; it was like devouring a live, wriggling fish. Seeing a woman who'd smiled arm-in-arm with him the night before wake up pale with horror and shock the next morning—that was a whole new thrill.
Maybe go hunting again once more comes in.
Parking leisurely in front of his building, he stepped out—only for an unfamiliar voice to call from behind.
"Woo Cheong-su, right?"
"Wh-who the fuck are you?"
A guy in military gear and a black cap grinned white at him.
"Head home early. Think about the people waiting."
"Who the hell are you! Fuck! Robbery?"
Instinctive fear surged, but backing down first meant game over. Street smarts picked up prowling nightlife spots. He swung a fist—but the guy vanished from sight. Then agony hit like his arm was ripping off. The man's thumb dug into his collarbone.
"Hand over your phone."
"...Wh-what the hell is this?!"
"Won't say it twice. Wanna end up a cripple? Or give me the phone?"
"Here."
His voice was tiny, drowned by ambient noise, but it came through crystal clear, chilling him. Woo Cheong-su handed over the unlocked phone, hands shaking.
The black-capped man checked a video file, smirking.
"Clean."
"L-look, I don't know what's going on, but I'm just a regular office worker. You got the wrong guy...!"
"Open the cloud."
Color drained from Woo Cheong-su's face. It felt like a noose tightening around his throat. Everything—all his dirty secrets—was stored there.
Steeling himself, he swallowed hard and took back the phone. As he punched in the cloud password, his finger froze. He went to smash the latest-model phone on the concrete—
But somehow, it vanished from his hand. Shock barely registered before his body spun wildly. Parked cars and streetlights seemed to rocket skyward, then pain exploded from his back, stealing his breath.
"From your reaction, I figure there's something nasty in that cloud. Next question: you dosed those girls you met at the club, right?"
"Wh-what are you talking about? I don't know..."
"Got it. Where'd you get the drugs? From an MD?"
"I don't know, I tell you!"
Woo Cheong-su shoved the man, screaming for his life. Or trying to.
"He-help...!"
He never imagined he'd wail like a pathetic bitch. But the guy before him wouldn't even allow that. The man's hand chopped his Adam's apple, silencing his vocal cords. No scream escaped.
Rough hands grabbed his hair, slamming his face into the Mustang's bumper.
Screeech! An unfamiliar screech pierced his ears. The black cap smashed his face into the Mustang again, then dragged him slowly along the car. The beast he'd raced down Gangnam Boulevard with girls aboard now became a weapon shredding Woo Cheong-su. His nasal bones crumpled, blood gushing; red smears dotted the black body.
"Answer the question. Where'd you get the drugs?"
"MD... gave it to me. Instant effect."
His mouth flapped like a goldfish plucked from a tank. Barely audible unless you leaned in close—a dying whisper.
Finally satisfied, the black cap stood.
* * *
"Jeez! Looks so normal, and he's been pulling this shit?"
Detective Hwang Woo-sik sighed deeply, checking Woo Cheong-su's phone.
"Yes. Not just Yoo Hwa-rin—dozens of illegal videos backed up to the cloud. Guess he was worried about phone checks."
"Should we summon him and re-interrogate?"
"Well, investigating him anytime soon might be... tough."
"...No way! You beat him again? How the hell are we gonna cover this?!"
Scratching his head, Hwang lowered his voice, glancing around fearfully. But then—
"When's the first snow this year coming?" Detective Lee Gyu-cheol stared blankly out the window.
"Night snacks first?" Detective Kim Gwang-il scrolled food delivery apps.
"The typing was too loud—I didn't hear a thing." Officer Heo Seon-sil pounded the keyboard, face blank as ever.
Everyone shook their heads. Circling the Violent Crimes Team 3 office, Hwang gave a hollow laugh and met my eyes.
"Ahem. Security looks solid. So, what's the plan?"
"This new drug's already spreading in Gangnam clubs. Time to switch to proactive undercover ops."
Undercover at clubs. Not cooped up in a cramped car surviving on castella cake and milk for days. Lights, music, girls, booze, snacks. Eyes lit up—everyone except Heo Seon-sil.
"Clubs mean potential brawls..."
"Church boy vibe's trending these days."
"What? Ever heard of Cha Jung-nam? Time to flex that cool middle-aged charm!"
Gwang-il, Gyu-cheol—even control-freak Hwang started pitching themselves.
"Clubs are half girls, so Gwang-il's OP with women—sit this out."
Gwang-il slumped.
"Hwang, if the wife okays it..."
Hwang fiddled with random files.
"Let's go, church boy."
"Yes! Thank you!"
Thanks for undercover duty? Was Gyu-cheol always this character? I tilted my head, slipping on my jacket.
* * *
Club Octopussy. Gangnam hotspot—second floor rooms, first floor stage. Psychedelic lights were the only way to make out faces amid the chaos. Heart-pounding EDM tore from massive speakers.
Tables and chairs on stage? All steel to prevent breakage.
"Whoa! This place is a whole other world!"
Gyu-cheol's eyes bugged out in Diesel jeans and flashy round-neck shirt—no more baggy slacks. Shouting in my ear over the noise:
"How do we even undercover here?!"
"We're at a club—order drinks first."
Woo Cheong-su's MD went by "Fluorescent." Asked the in-ear-wearing server; a early-20s guy in fluorescent casual suit appeared, all friendly bows.
"Bosses! Thanks for gracing us and boosting the local economy—family honor! How's the booze?"
"Valentine 30, simple snacks whatever."
"Yes sir! At your service."
MDs take ~15% of table sales. Fluorescent's eyes flicked, calculating, then 90-degree bow and dash.
"Cheol-gu hyung, going overboard?"
"Not making you pay—loosen up. Stiff like that, you're screaming undercover cop."
"Tch, got it."
Setup done, Fluorescent whispered:
"Boss, girls aplenty tonight—bring 'em now? Or browse?"
"Strangers milling kills the vibe. Spot a standout, I'll grab her. Anyway—"
Leaned to his ear.
"Got that stuff? Potion."
"Whoa, dangerous talk! Can't deal that here—big trouble!"
"For real? Came via Cheong-su hyung, and you don't know?"
Yanked his hem as he waved it off. "Cheong-su" made his eyes waver.
"Friend of Boss Woo Cheong-su? Why not come together...?"
"Cheong-su hyung's coming soon. Told us to hold the table."
"...But I really don't handle that stuff. I'll service great instead—put in a good word with Boss Woo?"
Hesitating, Fluorescent flashed a sales smile and left.
Playing it that way?
Nodding, I headed to the bathroom—phone buzzed. Message on Woo Cheong-su's phone blinked.
– Boss Woo, Fluorescent here. Says they're your crew at the table—trust 'em?
My lip curled faintly.
* * *
Club Octopussy's top second-floor room. Royal Salute—over half left—spilled wastefully across the table. The man inside shook his head, grinning vacantly. Whiskey's harsh scent stung his nose.
Booze is honest, huh. You drink, you get drunk—measure for measure.
Door flew open; ear-splitting noise flooded in. Psychedelic lights shifted the room's scene endlessly.
"Oppa! You came all this way and you're alone in a room?"
"Bragged I was with you—certification shot okay?"
He stood. Tailored suit hugged his gym-honed body tight. Surrendered to the music. Drunk, but his flesh moved flawlessly to the rhythm.
Whispers buzzed around him. Women's eyes locked on. Caste system's long gone, but Korea had new nobility: chaebols and celebs.
Beat accelerated. Floor heated, sticky. Girls swarmed him. Dresses barely a handful of fabric clung precariously.
Buzz hit hard. Booze didn't lie. Like a drug.
Exhaling long, he draped arms over the second-floor railing, peering down. One guy in a rough military jacket rode the rhythm.
What the—wrong outfit for the vibe?
Snickering, he turned—then his eyes widened. Familiar face.