The Death of the Man No One Hates (6)
“Just like you, Kang Cheol-gu. Haha! You can never go out quietly!”
Amid the expectant gazes of all the students, the man who entered the kendo hall was Superintendent Lee Myeong-ho, captain of the 22nd Police Guard Unit. He was someone I'd connected with from the moment I first asked him to clean up after those Joseonjok gangsters—perhaps the one who understood my work style even better than my own father.
“What brings Superintendent Lee Myeong-ho here?”
“Heh heh! You might not think much of it, but I work here as a martial arts instructor once a week. When I heard about your special lecture today, I rushed over just to see your face.”
The students listening to our conversation had eyes wide with shock. What kind of instructor was Superintendent Lee Myeong-ho? He always treated the cadets with a smiling face, but once he stepped onto the dojo floor, he exuded overwhelming charisma. The head of the 22nd Police Guard Unit, tasked with protecting the President of Korea. Not even the third- or fourth-year students could lay a finger on him—and here he was, bowing his head to this twenty-something cop named Kang Cheol-gu....
Suddenly, Namgung Min, who had charged at this monster twice and passed out both times, seemed impressive.
“I came to tell you to go easy on him if you can....”
Lee Myeong-ho glanced toward the door where Namgung Min had been carried out and clicked his tongue.
“Looks like you've already had your fun. Haha!”
Head! Waist! The kendo hall filled with the cadets' spirited shouts. The bamboo swords striking the tire striking pads were impressively fierce. The students practicing individually avoided my eyes like the plague, glaring at the tires as if they were the parents' murderers and pouring every ounce of strength into their swings.
“You seemed to have some history with that Namgung Min kid earlier?”
“...His father, Inspector Namgung Cheol, was my direct superior. I've known Min since he was little because of that.”
Lee Myeong-ho nodded, arms crossed, at my question.
“He comes off as cocky at first glance, but he's a sensitive kid. Teach him well.”
“He seemed to have some guts, and he's got a bit of fight in him.”
Lee Myeong-ho chuckled softly and watched the cadets pounding the pads.
“Min's father, Inspector Namgung, is—what should we say?—single-mindedly devoted to the police in the best light, or utterly indifferent to everything else in the worst. And his lifelong rival is your father, Superintendent Kang Hyeok. Of course, it's more like a one-sided crush since Superintendent Kang doesn't even see him as a rival.”
Lee Myeong-ho narrowed his eyes at me.
“Min and your family have a lot in common. Both fathers are police academy grads in high positions. ...Inspector Namgung, who could never surpass your father, pinned all his hopes on his son Min and raised him harshly. The more you make a name for yourself as a cop, the worse it got. The kid grew up without any affection from his dad. He probably snarled and lunged at you the moment he saw you.”
As if imagining it, the corner of his mouth lifted.
“So, you're saying to go easy on the kid with all that baggage?”
“Haha! Of course not. But....”
Lee Myeong-ho trailed off, locking eyes with me directly.
“The boy never learned how a man becomes an adult. He only knows competition and winning. So show him what a real man is.”
Don't worry about that. All a kid needs to grow up is proper nutrition and plenty of beatings.
I nodded with a meaningful smile.
* * *
“Groan!”
Three hours later, back in the infirmary. The familiar white ceiling came into view. Namgung Min opened his eyes amid a splitting headache.
Damn! Passed out again? Twice in one day...?!
As he gritted his teeth and sat up, “Hey! Min, you're awake?!”
His gang's loud voices pierced his ears.
“Keep it down, my head's killing me. Where's that bastard Kang Cheol-gu right now?”
The first thing out of his mouth upon waking was asking for Kang Cheol-gu.
“It's break time now. But... Instructor Lee Myeong-ho came by.”
Instructor Lee Myeong-ho.... Namgung Min's eyes lit up. The man he'd called uncle since childhood, always especially kind to him, and someone no one in the police world dared ignore.
Right. If I ask Instructor Lee Myeong-ho to deal with that Kang Cheol-gu punk... No, that'd be lame. I have to handle this myself....
One of his gang spoke cautiously to Namgung Min, who was rolling his eyes.
“...Hey, Min. Maybe we should just drop Kang Cheol-gu. It's just a special lecture; we won't see him again anyway.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
The guy scratched his head at Namgung Min's bulging eyes.
“...Actually, even Instructor Lee Myeong-ho seemed to tread carefully around Senior Kang Cheol-gu.”
“Not just that. Instructor Lee was chatting with some kids and spilled a ton of Kang Cheol-gu stories we didn't know. He apparently took down those brutal Dallim-dong Joseonjok gangsters single-handedly—stuff that didn't even make the news.”
Instructor Lee Myeong-ho wouldn't lie!
But what about my pride? How much would the others mock me for passing out twice in one day...!
“So the other kids aren't saying it, but they're all shocked by you!”
“What do you mean? Spill the details!”
Namgung Min's voice rose.
“You're the only second-year who dared mouth off to that terrifying Senior Kang Cheol-gu. They're calling you a badass!”
“Yeah, even the girls who used to trash-talk you behind your back are looking at you differently now!”
Namgung Min's mind started spinning in a strange direction. Instructor Lee Myeong-ho was the universal benchmark for combat prowess. And that instructor had acknowledged Kang Cheol-gu's skills. And he, Namgung Min, had challenged that monstrous Kang Cheol-gu with unyielding spirit, over and over.
So where did that put him now....
Namgung Min's eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched involuntarily.
“Hey! Min, what's with your face? Still hurting bad?!”
“Are you smiling? Crying? Pick one!”
“Everybody out!”
A stifled laugh leaked out in the now-empty infirmary.
* * *
“You didn't come just to talk about Min, did you? Looking for another student?”
“Hmmm! Guess I wasn't subtle.”
Superintendent Lee Myeong-ho, who had been watching the training cadets intently, gave an awkward smile and looked at me.
“Truth is, there's a second-year who looks just like you, Cheol-gu. I wondered if he might be at school by now, but no such luck.”
“What kind of student has the superintendent so interested?”
“How to put it.... A kid endlessly flailing in a past we've all forgotten. That might sum up Jo Chan-seong.”
Lee Myeong-ho let out an unusually long sigh, his gaze deepening.
* * *
The cheap wooden casket slowly entered the crematorium's roaring flames. Tears of no particular meaning streamed from Jo Chan-seong's eyes as he watched it burn.
His grandmother, who had spent her life bedridden, ended it the same way—lying down.
Grandma, go in peace. Dad—your son—will be there, so you won't be lonely.
Two hours. The time it took for a flesh-and-blood human to lose form and turn to ash.
Jo Chan-seong's chest already bore the urn of his father Jo Gap-seong, reduced to a handful of ashes.
“Mr. Jo Chan-seong, the cremation for Mrs. Kim Sun-rye is complete. Please come to the bone collection room.”
A businesslike woman's voice echoed from the speaker.
Jo Chan-seong's knees trembled weakly after handling funerals for his grandmother and father alone over five days.
After several tries, the old RX 125's engine sputtered to life with a feeble whine.
Inside his backpack, the two urns felt unbearably light.
Carrying two people on my back, and it's still this light....
Chan-seong gave a bitter smile and twisted the throttle on his motorcycle, heading across Yeoncheon County in Gyeonggi Province toward the Hantan River.
The hometown of his grandmother and father—and their final resting place.
After over three hours of riding, the Hantan River greeted him with its chill, watery scent.
Scattering human ashes in a river is illegal....
Chan-seong's hand paused as he pulled out the urns, but he soon smiled faintly and opened the lids.
I'm still a police academy cadet, even if I die tomorrow!
He'd considered a columbarium, but he was their only family. He didn't even remember his mother's face—she'd fled when he was five, sick of the endless poverty.
No one left to hold ancestral rites anyway. This is the best.
Chan-seong's fingertips shook as he scattered the ashes into the river. The Hantan River's mighty current swallowed his sobs whole.
* * *
“...Did you say Chan-seong? Is that student's name Jo Chan-seong?”
“No, Cheol-gu—how do you know the kid?”
My sharp tone widened Lee Myeong-ho's eyes.
It was a familiar name. One that once set the media ablaze, only to vanish without a trace for reasons unknown. A name forcibly erased from everyone's memory.
“Tell me about Jo Chan-seong.”
“Why all of a sudden?!”
“......”
Lee Myeong-ho's forehead creased deeply as he stared at my tightly shut mouth.
“...If you're asking, there must be a good reason. Chan-seong's family are descendants of independence activists. The kid never talks about home, so I looked into it myself. I wanted things to go well for him.”
The superintendent's voice sank into the past.
“His grandmother was taken as a comfort woman by the Japanese army and suffered lifelong illness from it, bedridden the whole time. Her eldest brother fought as an independence fighter, endured torture, and his body was never found. But in this country of ours, collaborators thrive! Three generations suffered in poverty with no compensation from the state.”
His voice gained strength, as if envisioning it.
“Chan-seong's father worked over twenty years at some construction company, got laid off, protested, and ended up crippled by hired thugs. I wanted to help, but the kid's pride was too strong—he refused every time.”
Lee Myeong-ho shook his head and sighed lowly.
“A few days ago, I got a call from one of his close classmates. His father and grandmother passed away two days apart. His phone's off, and he hasn't shown up to school without a word....”
“Superintendent, sorry, but I have to go.”
“Hey, wait!”
My steps quickened toward the administrative office.
“I need second-year Jo Chan-seong's student records.”
“What about Cadet Chan-seong...? He's not the type to cause trouble.”
The fortysomething administrative officer averted his eyes and spoke cautiously. The atmosphere around Kang Cheol-gu before him had shifted. Gone was the cocky demeanor from just two hours ago, when he'd name-dropped Superintendent Kang Hyeok. Now he was like a honed blade, and the officer's hand trembled noticeably as he handed over the records.
Is this the real Kang Cheol-gu?
The officer swallowed dryly, watching Kang Cheol-gu turn away with the rustle of the wind.