27. Acting and Misunderstanding (3)
1. The fact that Yuchan had overlooked was ridiculously simple. One might even compare it to trying to balance an egg on a table. He'd been so mesmerized by the very idea that the diligent, serious Minjeong was putting on an act to deceive him that his thoughts hadn't reached the crucial point. The intruder who had broken into his home wasn't necessarily the same person as X.
The stalker, now processed by Yuchan and rotting away in the septic tank's filth, had been directed at him by X. The stalker had shown intense interest in Yuchan but never revealed himself directly. He'd merely manipulated things from the shadows. No matter how closely Yuchan observed Minjeong's Black Box during their conversation, he'd reached a firm conclusion. Throughout their talk, Minjeong's hermit crab symbol stayed deeply hidden. The color surrounding it remained a steady navy blue. Not once had the red hues of pleasure or enjoyment surfaced. To her, this situation was no game or amusement—just a gamble that stirred pure anxiety.
Manipulating others from behind the scenes or wearing a false face to deceive—that wasn't Minjeong. She was born upright and honest, a straight-arrow person. She couldn't stand injustice, always wanting to right what was wrong, a bit of a busybody do-gooder at heart. X had maneuvered to make Yuchan mistake Minjeong for himself. And he'd tried to goad Yuchan into killing her. He'd attempted to use not just Minjeong, but Yuchan as well.
"Are you heading straight home?"
"Yes, thank you—it was delicious."
"Shall I give you a ride today?"
"No, my car's fine, and it's not far."
"I have something else I want to say."
"Ah..."
Minjeong waved lightly, intending a casual goodbye. But Yuchan's persistent request gave her pause. By now, Yuchan was about ninety percent convinced that Minjeong had illegally entered his home. Otherwise, her reactions wouldn't make sense.
'You already know everything, don't you?'
When Yuchan had shifted the mood and suddenly brought up dating, the vivid flash of 'Thank goodness' in her emotions and the shift in her Black Box had given him strong confirmation. Even then, Minjeong's acting had been so flawless that without his special ability, he might have let it slide. The Black Box had enabled this precise analysis.
Judging from their usual relationship, she would have gladly accepted a reasonable offer of kindness. Yet here she was, hesitating to even get in the car for a ride home, solidifying Yuchan's hypothesis.
"All right, if you insist."
If Minjeong had broken into his house and moved the body, she must know he was storing a corpse there. In that case, she could just report it. If she had, Yuchan would have been caught, and she wouldn't have to feel awkward around him anymore. But she hadn't. At the same time, she was trying to avoid arousing his suspicion.
If Minjeong had been coerced by X like the stalker—threatened rather than willingly complicit—there might still be room to maneuver. After a long while, Yuchan found himself driving with Minjeong again, pulling a sharp U-turn and accelerating toward the Freeway.
He shoved past cars at terrifying speeds, blowing through signals to merge onto the highway.
"U-um, Yuchan?"
Minjeong's face registered shock at his sudden route change as she stared at his profile. A look of fear. Her hand fidgeted in her pocket—probably her phone.
As soon as they hit the Freeway, the SUV's cabin filled only with the faint hum of tires grinding against asphalt as he floored it.
"Yuchan, what are you doing right now?"
"We need to talk."
"No, I mean—where are you taking us?"
She laced her voice with feigned anger, but the thin tremor betrayed raw terror. Speed: 130 km/h. In a car screaming down the highway, they were effectively sealed in a confined space.
"Minjeong, you entered my house in early February, didn't you?"
He could sense her swallow hard. A reaction only possible if she grasped the implication. So, she had moved the body. First, he needed to reassure her. He wasn't sure how well his upcoming lies would land, but the attempt was key.
"I know what you saw. I've been asked to do the same by someone whose identity I couldn't pin down."
"What do you mean...?"
"A man's torso—nothing but the upper body. It was in the bathtub, right?"
True to her cautious nature, she played dumb, probing his intentions. From her perspective, Yuchan was a murderer storing a body at home. X had left no trace linking himself to the stalker, severing all puppet strings to block any backtracking. If that was X's method, Yuchan would turn it against him. By positioning himself as just another victim, he could fool her effectively.
"One day, a note and package arrived. Inside was a man's upper body packed in ice, with a note demanding I dispose of it—under threat."
"..."
Streetlights whipped by outside, their white glow casting shadows across Yuchan's profile like bruises. Minjeong quietly set her phone down and began listening intently.
"At first, I wanted to go to the police. But the more I read the note, the more terrified I got. I tried tracing the package, checking CCTV—nothing revealed the sender's identity. It was like the guy vanished without a trace."
"..."
"Then, on February 7th—the day you took leave—the body's position suddenly changed."
"How could you know it was me just from that?"
Minjeong finally spoke, her voice still laced with suspicion. She was a victim in this. And victims bonded easiest with others in the same boat. Yuchan decided to exploit that.
"Does that mean you went into my house and moved the body?"
"Yes, that's right. I did it."
"You stopped coming to the counseling room after that day, too. At first, I thought it was the creep's doing... but your sudden change in attitude was too coincidental. I was grasping at straws when I asked."
Yuchan kept his eyes forward. A sidelong glance showed her furrowed brow—not fully convinced. It made sense; for nearly three months, she'd seen him as a killer. A few words weren't enough to rewrite that.
His voice cracked with emotion. "...It was agony. Not knowing when the police might burst in, terrified I'd end up in prison for something I didn't do. Nightmares every night."
Minjeong looked stunned at the quaver in Yuchan's voice—the man who'd always seemed unflappably reliable and strong.
"If you're going through the same thing, I want to help. Alone, I could do nothing—but together, we might find a way."
"The note I got said it was a body you killed..."
"No way. I didn't even want to dispose of it!"
Minjeong stared, dazed, at the clear tears streaming down Yuchan's face. She fumbled for a handkerchief and gently wiped his cheek. In the shadow of the murder, he'd forgotten something vital: the hardworking Yuchan she'd known for a year at the academy. How could she have doubted him over some madman's note?
"I can't believe it... Until just now, I was convinced you were a murderer. Even thought you might be behind the string of disappearances."
"That's probably what the perp wants. No rational reason to create another witness unless he wanted me locked up instead."
Strictly speaking, X wanted Yuchan to kill Minjeong. But Yuchan's "common sense" argument carried more weight than X's twisted game.
"You're right..."
Minjeong's prickly tone softened, like a hedgehog lowering its spines. She seemed genuinely empathetic to his pain—as a fellow victim, she'd suffered mentally too. Admitting his relationship with Nayae had likely earned trust points as well.
"You didn't report it because of the threats?"
"Yes. They threatened my family if I went to the police. Said they'd scrubbed all CCTV—just to wear gloves and protective gear from the box, move the body in the tub to a visible spot..."
"You must have been through hell."
He comforted her profusely as she opened up. Even pretending otherwise, she'd clearly been tormented—biting her lip, eyes glistening under the streetlights. Women really were weak to tears, it seemed. Yuchan smirked inwardly, leisurely turning the wheel.
2. Minjeong lived in a 20-year-old public housing complex near Daehwa Station. The facilities weren't great, but for a 25-year-old woman who'd gone independent right after college without parental help, it was the best she could get. Office-tels in the commercial district often doubled as spots for prostitution brokers, with poor soundproofing and security.
"Wait just a sec—can you hold on outside?"
"Why?"
"I didn't expect company; the place is a mess. Give me three minutes to tidy up."
"Take your time. It's not cold."
"Sorry!"
Leaving Yuchan at the door, Minjeong dashed inside after a quick apology. The frantic clattering suggested real urgency. He hadn't expected a single woman's home to be as neat as Nayae's. Understanding her delicate sensitivity about being seen in disarray, Yuchan waited patiently.
Ten minutes later—not three—the footsteps approached, and the door swung open.
"Haa... haa... I kept you too long. What a mess... Come in."
Minjeong was genuinely panting, her flushed face beaded with sweat.
"Excuse me, then."
Stepping inside revealed a modest 15-pyeong apartment layout. Though aged, with wear in spots, it wasn't off-putting. What immediately caught Yuchan's eye was the chaos from entryway to living room: clothes flung over plastic hangers, floors piled with empty soju and beer bottles like mountains. Under bluish LED lights, the white carpet bore stains that looked like spilled red sauce. The sofa hosted her yoga hobby—a haphazardly tossed mat with a stability ball rolling atop it. The bedroom door straight ahead was firmly shut, no doubt stuffed with hastily shoved debris.
"Ha... ha... Pretty dirty, huh? Living alone, it piles up..."
Minjeong wiped sweat with an awkward smile. Who'd guess the prim Minjeong hid such a freewheeling lifestyle? Discovering this new side after nearly a year satisfied Yuchan.
"Not at all. It's just like mine."
She'd feel embarrassed if she ever saw his impeccably model-home-like place, but for now, a white lie sufficed.
"Anyway, could I see the note or items from the perp?"
He hadn't come in the dead of night for her body. The goal: scour for X's traces and counterattack via joint investigation. Only then could his peaceful, pastoral life with his "herd" stabilize. Leaving a creep who knew all his dirty secrets alive left a bitter taste.
"Ah...!"
Minjeong sighed at his words. As Yuchan eyed her quizzically, she mumbled sheepishly.
"Th-they're in my room, but it's not tidied... I'll grab them quick. Oh, tea! Wait just a moment."
There was no tea, in the end. Yuchan held a glass of orange juice, listening to the prolonged thumps from her room.