Chapter 202
Chapter 202
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: Prison Confessions
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Uijeongbu Prison visitation, about 20 minutes.
In that short time, Kang Hyun fully extracted the statement from Jack Daniel, real name Daniel Seo.
Honestly, it was absurd.
Without the slightest resistance, he even stepped forward first, volunteering to confess everything.
All charges against Park Jeong-seok, suspicious circumstances, connections, and more.
He was selling out everyone who had protected him, just to save his own skin.
In that instant, as he witnessed the true face of that trash organization, disgust coursed through Kang Hyun’s entire body—but since it wasn’t over yet, he held it together until the end.
Even worse was still to come.
“Visitation time is over.”
“Let’s go.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Please take good care of me going forward!”
Even as Daniel Seo bowed his head repeatedly, Kang Hyun didn’t spare him a single glance. He simply sat there motionless, arms crossed.
Instead, he took a moment to catch his breath and sank into thought.
‘Those fucking bastards.’
The thought flashed briefly through Kang Hyun’s mind. A list of people he needed to meet unspooled in his head.
Daniel Seo’s friends.
“Next, commencing visitation with the inmate.”
“Yes.”
Kang Hyun gave a curt reply to the correctional officer’s voice. There was one more person lined up right after.
Just how repulsive would this next one be? The mere thought made his scalp crawl.
Rumble. Clang!
The door slid open, and someone appeared.
The figure emerging from the shadows.
He had lost weight, grown gaunt, and looked utterly wrecked, but Kang Hyun recognized him immediately.
“Long time no see. James Park.”
“…Ah, hello, sir.”
“Have a seat.”
Scrape.
It was Park Jeong-seok’s youngest son.
The ringleader of the Namyangju intersection accident case, James Park.
“You must be exhausted.”
“…”
“Drug withdrawal? Regret over the murder?”
“It’s not that… well, maybe some of it is.”
“Not a question. From here on, I’ll be the one talking.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Kang Hyun didn’t wait before launching in.
“Article 41 of the Act on the Execution of Sentences and Treatment of Prisoners: Inmates may meet with persons outside the correctional facility. However, per the Ministry of Justice Correction Headquarters guidelines, meetings may be denied in cases of internal regulation violations, court or prosecution appearances, scheduled transfers to other facilities, court or prosecution prohibition orders, or ‘if the inmate himself refuses the meeting.’”
“…”
“You must be tired and worn out, so why didn’t you refuse my unofficial visitation request?”
The same legal clause. The same question.
‘Ha!’
But somehow, it was almost amusing.
No need for extra effort to persuade him.
Just one mention of leniency, and he picked up the pen, starting to scribble down his statement.
This guy was even lower.
“With this… you’ll make me a detective… right?”
The subject of the statement was his own father, and he still said it.
Pure, unadulterated betrayal. Just to save himself.
“It’s merely for consideration as a mitigating factor. You still deserve your punishment.”
“Th-thank you anyway. If there’s even a little way out…”
“Want to get out even a day sooner?”
“Yes, yes! Tell me anything if there’s a way! I’m begging you!”
“Ha… no sign of remorse anywhere.”
“I-I submit reflection statements to the judge every time. I spend every night regretting what I’ve done! So please, just this once…”
“Where can I find your father?”
“Th-that’s…”
“I heard he wants a transfer from Uijeongbu to Seoul. Trial issues aside. Seoul’s just more convenient…”
“Huh! You can arrange that too? There’s a pub he hits up a lot! Or the mountain where he exercises every morning, his favorite room salon… no, bar…”
Even locked up the same way, Seoul was better? The casual psychological jab had worked brilliantly.
‘Betraying his own father. Easier than I thought…’
Kang Hyun struggled to hide his hollow expression, but it wasn’t easy.
The other man, oblivious to the ambiguous look on Kang Hyun’s face, stared back and redoubled his efforts to expose his father’s haunts.
That was it.
This scum only cared about his own survival, father be damned.
And Kang Hyun had clocked it—and was exploiting it.
‘Filthy.’
Diving into the den of these putrid rotters to wring out their statements wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was the most effective method by far.
Once he had stacked up enough ammunition to corner Park Jeong-seok like this, there was only one final step left.
Meet the man himself. In the right place.
After Branch Chief Prosecutor Park Min-seong assumed the role of acting branch head.
That same day, articles flooded in about KW Construction’s Park Jeong-seok issuing a no-show statement.
Uijeongbu District Prosecutors’ Office, Namyangju Branch.
The covert operation that had been underway in Prosecutor Hwang Jae-eun’s office for half a day finally wrapped up.
“Now we wait.”
And around 4:30 p.m., the criminal division did something extraordinary—as if they’d anticipated Park Jeong-seok’s exact move—with a bold arrest warrant request against him.
A “junior prosecutor’s unilateral decision” without the approval of acting branch head Park Min-seong. Prosecutor Hwang Jae-eun’s so-called “surprise filing.”
In principle, it violated delegated authority rules, but Room 422 immediately filed an explanation with the Ministry of Justice’s Central Prosecutors’ Office Inspection Division: it was a legal procedure to ensure smooth operations and preserve investigative authority.
In the current climate, with those who hadn’t stepped down—and might not—no longer in position, and others potentially targeted for related cases, it was a shrewd way to dodge procedural backlash.
In plain terms, striking first to seal any leaks.
So even with Park Min-seong holding full acting branch head authority, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Yet an hour later, at 5:30 p.m.
The decision came down: relieving Namyangju Branch Head Gu Ik-hwan of his position.
Ten minutes after that, a bribery arrest warrant was promptly requested against him.
So swift. So seamless.
With discussions already underway on releasing Gu Ik-hwan from emergency arrest, this was a “swift decision with compromised investigative completeness,” skipping a forced probe of second suspect corporation KW Construction.
The intent behind it? Launch a political offensive the moment post-indictment results hit, tying up the opposition case.
In other words, Acting Namyangju Branch Head Park Min-seong was desperately carrying out the Prosecutor General’s will.
“…Kang Hyun was right.”
Prosecutor Hwang Jae-eun muttered flatly as he set down the warrant filing report.
Just as he’d said.
Rather than blocking or interfering with Kang Hyun and Hwang Jae-eun’s investigation, Park Min-seong was pushing a speed war to first wrap up proof on Gu Ik-hwan’s bribery charges.
How far ahead had Kang Hyun seen this? From before the KW case dragged on and bribe evidence surfaced?
Or from the start of this subtle power play?
Originally, Hwang Jae-eun had viewed it as a clash between the Prosecutor General and the Seoul Central District Chief Prosecutor. On a bigger scale, ruling party versus opposition.
The current Prosecutor General was an opposition figure, at odds with the ruling party. The Central District Chief showed no overt politics but was a prime beneficiary of the ruling party—and deeply at odds with the General.
So Hwang Jae-eun could plainly see the General’s plan: use Daijin Group affiliate KW as the spearhead to torch the ruling party. And Central’s countermoves to block it and strike back at the General.
Not just him—anyone seeing through the board knew it cold.
But now, at this juncture, the shadows lifted, revealing who had truly stepped into the ring.
Park Min-seong and Kang Hyun.
The one entrenched at the apex—and the one charging toward it.
Yet with the junior prosecutor’s clever plays, the fight hadn’t ballooned into full politics. It kept the media laser-focused on the case itself. Potent stuff.
Two feats by Kang Hyun.
First, the subcontractor raid.
Diverting from repeated blocks on KW HQ searches, he struck the subs fast—igniting the stalled KW building collapse probe amid the game of chicken.
That breached the dam: exposing graft between the two subs and KW, arrows now aimed at Park Jeong-seok.
Second, his direct bribery tip-off.
Stepping up to officially expose Gu Ik-hwan’s corruption at the perfect moment, forcing a politics-free probe.
Hwang Jae-eun clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. The frustration of a senior shoving his junior into the ring against the top dog.
‘Whew… suffocating.’
Even after the warrant filing, he’d thrown himself into the probe like a madman, but momentum was slowing.
Tweet, tweet.
Deep in the night, birdsong pierced the darkness, dawn slowly breaking.
The clock ticked past 5:01 a.m.
Having pulled an all-nighter at his desk, Hwang Jae-eun paused while reviewing the next report, thimble on his finger.
‘Decision’s coming any minute.’
He meant the warrants they’d filed.
Given the case’s gravity, difficulty, and public interest, the court had likely prioritized those two warrants over everything.
Until the results dropped, all he could do was wait.
No wonder his nerves were frayed.
Complicated thoughts stalled any progress.
‘…What’ll it be?’
Three scenarios.
If Park Jeong-seok’s arrest warrant got rejected, but Gu Ik-hwan’s detention warrant issued—or vice versa.
One side loses the speed race from the jump. Victory and defeat decided at the outset.
It either shifts to untouchable political turf for junior prosecutors or shrinks to a simple case politics can’t touch. Straight to the extremes.
But if both warrants issued?
Then it’s all-out last-lap investigation speed war.
Rush to indict first, claim the line. What indicts first reshapes political narratives and media gaze.
But no flaws or gaps in the review results allowed.
They’d drown in “rushed indictment” backlash for sure.
Last scenario.
Both warrants rejected?
Gu Ik-hwan’s total reversal.
The bribery-and-graft nexus—KW Construction and beyond, all those firms he’d greased and grown with—would blunt the prosecutors’ daggers.
Unthinkable nightmare, in a word.
Lost in thought, the door opened. The warrant handler from the case team—tied to Hwang Jae-eun—entered with a greeting, her face uneasy.
“How’d it go?”
“…Prosecutor. They’re holding decision on the arrest warrant for now.”
“Holding… decision?!”
Court warrant review on hold.
Practically a rejection incoming.
Unheard of in tight-timeline arrest/detention reviews if they intended issuance.
Hwang Jae-eun stared blankly at the staffer, strength draining from his body in shock.
“And the detention warrant?”
So what about Park Min-seong’s filing for branch head—no, ex-branch head—Gu Ik-hwan?
“…The suspect, uh, branch head didn’t show for the pretrial detention hearing. They’re resuming after hearing prosecutor input.”
“Wh-what?”
“Branch Head Park Min-seong… is already en route to the court.”
Usually, no-show suspects get detention warrants nine times out of ten. And Gu Ik-hwan hadn’t even shown? Prosecutor input?
Thunderbolt from a clear sky. They were pulling some move.
“Ha.”
Everything was a mess. Hwang Jae-eun was always one step behind.