Ah, I Too Had a Time of Pure Innocence
Ah, there was a time when I was pure too. My parents were the type who slept so deeply that even if someone carried them off, they wouldn't notice. Thanks to that, whenever I skipped dinner, I'd sneak into the fridge late at night for a midnight snack. But I was too young for a smartphone, so just scarfing down food in the dead of night got boring fast. That's why I'd watch TV while eating. A kid like me, chowing down on snacks during adult hours and tuning into late-night broadcasts. Anyway, back then, I ignored the hell out of boring Christian channels or current affairs shows. Kids' cartoons were lame, and Korean dramas were too heavy for me. So I got hooked on this one channel that ran 24/7 movies—random picks from the network.
Of course, watching movies at odd hours didn't turn my personality screwy or make my mouth filthier. I was pure enough back then to just enjoy them as stories. The problem was a kid's brain is like a sponge—it soaks up and remembers every damn external stimulus way too easily. That's how I ended up watching every torture scene in that movie Model Citizen, where the hero brutalizes some heinous criminal. Hell, I still remember it all.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
But I swear, I know fiction from reality. That's why I don't mix up the Bible with real life either.
"Spit it out already!"
S-man bellowed at the thug—a classic kkakdugi lowlife punk, tied to a chair.
"I-I really don't know! Is this even legal for cops?! Just cuff me and drag me in!!!"
"Words won't cut it, huh. Time to make it juicy."
Playing the bad cop to perfection, S-man pried the guy's eyelids open and doused them mercilessly with lemon juice.
"Aaaaaaaaah! Fuck! For real! I don't know! How the hell would I know that shit!!!"
"If you don't know, think! You schemed crimes with that big brain of yours, but can't think up an answer to a simple question?!"
"How the fuck would I know your panty color, you asshole!!!!!!!!"
Fair point—he wouldn't. But S-man didn't give up. Behold the tenacity of this man. Born into a top family, aced his studies at a prestige uni, landed a primo spot at a mega-corp. Elites don't quit easy.
Slap!
"Tell me! What's my panty color?!"
"I wanna know too... No! Why the fuck would I care unless I'm gay! I don't know! I said I don't!!!"
Grabbing the thug's collar—eyes bloodshot—and slapping him silly, S-man looked more gangster than cop. Bad cop high seemed to be wearing off, so I figured it was time for good cop carrots.
"Hey, hey, calm down. If he doesn't know your panty color, maybe give a hint? Memories don't pop up outta nowhere—they chain from associations, like fish caught in a net. So, what color were your panties today?"
"...Blue?"
Slap!
"They were black. This fucker's lies are glued to his tongue."
"I haven't been home in three days—forgot for a sec!!"
"Who wears the same panties for three days straight without going home?"
"This guy's suspicious as hell."
"Totally."
But dudes peeking in other dudes' panties? Too gay. So we kept spanking his cheeks instead.
"Listen up, you three-day-panty liar. No matter how you squirm, I see your sins. You backstabbed your buddies over there, siphoned gang funds, right? And that's not all—when premium booze hits the joint, you swap it with cheap shit and guzzle the good stuff yourself. The boss here slacks so hard, he never noticed, so you've pulled that scam over ten times already. Right?"
"How the...!"
"We're cops, asshole! We know everything!"
I snatched the lemon from S-man's hand and jammed juice up the guy's nostrils.
"Kek! Gack! Krk! Eeeeeek!!!"
"And we know you're hunting some guy. Name's... Han Daeri, was it?"
"...You know that too?"
"Ghost Messenger app for criminals. Thought only you crooks used it?"
I dangled a burner phone with the app in front of his face, and his color drained—unlike before. Two cops busting in, trashing the joint, KO'ing a few goons? Manageable. Corrupt dicks sometimes overact for bribes. But dropping the criminal-exclusive app name? That screamed wrong. And yeah, my eyes saw his related sins clear as day.
"From now on, answer right. Don't forget—I even know your panty color."
"You peeked earlier... Fine, truth it is."
"Why chase Han Daeri?"
"From the top... hit contract came down. In Korea, those are usually just beatdowns or threats, but this was a rare kidnapping gig. Everyone buzzed—bigger crime scale means fatter pay, that's the rule here..."
"How much?"
"10 billion on success. Cash, lump sum."
Whoa. A whistle slipped out. Last time, some psycho Bitkan fucks put a million bucks on my head; now 10 bil won. Why always jack my bounty so high? Past life as an SSS-grade cotton slave untouched by the whip? Top-tier slave warrior, maybe.
"So you snatch an innocent guy for cash? Not just fuckers—you're great fuckers."
"H-Honestly, 10 bil cash? Who says no? Our sharpest guys reported to the big boss and jumped. Me? Retired from the front lines, just minding the joint..."
Slap!
"Bullshit. You sent that guy out."
"How do you...!"
"I see it all!"
"Then why ask!!"
"'Cause I feel like it!"
These punks climb your head if you're nice. Time to drop good cop and go full Han Daeri.
"Here's a taser. Prime condition—Korean cops barely use 'em, basically brand new. Virgin guaranteed."
I waved the one swiped while KO'ing cops; no lemon needed—his eyes shook like aspen leaves. Seasoned thug, probably tased once or twice.
"Gun, cops, criminal—all set. Time for Russian roulette."
"Not roulette..."
"Middle-school dropout teaching a college grad? Spin the cylinder first?"
He shook his head desperately. Made me get the thrill of state power. Cops hogged this fun.
"Rules are simple. Truth saves your dick; lies... haven't tried, so who knows. Won't be good."
Confirming the barrel on his crotch, he eyed me desperately—ready to spill any secret.
"Did you call for backup while we beat your minions?"
"Uh, th-that..."
"Say hi. 'Bye-bye, pretty dick.'"
"...Bye-bye, pretty dick."
Pop! Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
I jammed electrodes in his groin, max voltage—he foamed and convulsed. S-man nodded, vowing never to bet his own. Smart.
I grabbed a rolling booze bottle and hurled it at the door.
"You motherfu—!"
Crack! Perfect timing—the first guy kicking in took it to the face. S-man and I bolted for the exit.
That eunuch prick called backup, tanking our plan to chill till dinner. Whatever. Our location's jammed right now. Pissing off H Group's head enough for a bounty—and hypertension—is win enough. I'll show 21st-century chaebols die of rage. If not too late, convert him to Jesus and ship to heaven.