The Locked Cell You Can't Leave Unsolved
"T-Tongue... I mean, Investigator Hyeong-bang, sir. I can't do stuff like this."
"Hahaha. It's fine. I trust you, Captain Kim. Come on in."
"It's because I don't trust myself. Please don't push."
"Hahahaha."
Do you think laughing means I won't punch you just because you're smiling?! I have no idea if it's an investigator's special trait to dump his work on others.
Hyeong-bang shoved me toward the cell. The one with the corpse in it, no less.
"There you go, Captain Kim."
He pushed me inside the cell and stopped, arms crossed like he was in one of those "can't leave without solving the mystery" rooms, standing by the only door.
"You started this story. So you should wrap it up properly to end on a high note, don't you think?"
"The murderer started it!"
"Hahaha. Get to it. If we dawdle here, maggots will start crawling on the body."
"Urk...!"
I didn't want to share a cell with a maggot-ridden corpse. Hell, I didn't want to share a cell at all.
Anyway, to get out of here, I'd have to put on some ass show or whatever for Hyeong-bang.
"Fine."
I nodded, resigned. No choice.
"I'll give it a shot. I stake my father's honor on it."
As if the guy who knocked up a girl three years younger than his eldest son has any honor left.
"Hahaha. How dependable."
I ignored Hyeong-bang's fake nice-guy chuckle and gave the cell a quick once-over.
It was cramped enough for three or four people lying down. Straw mats on the floor blocked the chill, and wooden bars on both sides let you see straight into the neighboring cells. Nothing much different from what I'd seen outside.
Of course, up close told a different story.
The floor looked freshly cleaned, the wall with the window had streaks like bloody hands had stroked it, and the window frame and bars had rope burns and faint bloodstains.
That was the scene. Now for the prisoners in the adjacent cells.
"Did you see anything weird last night? Hear strange noises? Anyone coming or going?"
"No idea. I was dead tired yesterday—slept straight through till morning."
"Same here. I've been tossing all night since I got thrown in, but last night? Fit like a glove. Slept like a rock and woke up at dawn."
Short version: They slept through it.
Not very credible. If they'd seen something, they'd have yelled for the guards right then, not now.
Next up: the guards.
I called over the ones who'd been busy getting their asses whipped earlier and lined them up in front of the bars.
"Anything unusual last night? Strange sounds?"
Their answers were shockingly uniform.
"Uh, last night, I just... suddenly got so sleepy."
"Never happens normally. But weirdly, just last night..."
"My apologies, sir. I was dozing—didn't see a thing."
"Me too..."
No different from the prisoners.
These bastards. Were they really sleeping on the job, or just not telling me? Hard to say.
But pushing them wouldn't get more, so onward.
"Hey, one of you come help. No, not the ones who dozed off on duty. You lot, go get punished."
I shooed out the useless guards and brought in another. Hyeong-bang even stepped aside to open the door—just for the time it took.
"C-Captain, sir. What do I do?"
This was the guard who'd escorted me to the yamen. I told him to stand still, then approached the corpse in the cell's center.
The body still lay there, eyes bulging wide. Mouth agape in desperate last breaths, deep rope marks and countless nail scratches on the neck, pants soaked in piss.
"Hmm..."
Now what?
I'd scanned the surroundings, done basic questioning. In movies or dramas, next would be autopsy time.
But with zero medical knowledge, I'd never done it and sure as hell couldn't now. Smash the skull for brains? Slice the gut for intestines? Check stomach contents for last meal?
How?
"Captain Kim?"
"Sir?"
Hyeong-bang and the guard calling snapped me out. I decided on the simplest option.
"Let's strip this guy."
I drew my sword from my belt. The same blade that stabbed his friend yesterday—now a tool to check for murder.
Snip, snip!
I sliced through the knotted ties holding his top like buttons. His chest was bruised purple.
"Oho, Captain Kim. Signs of foul play?"
"Nah. I dropkicked him yesterday."
A full-body flying kick could leave bruises like that.
I shifted gaze up to his neck. Rope and nail marks dug vertically into the jawline.
From what I recalled of forensic books, strangulation leaves horizontal neck marks. These slanted toward the jaw, so Hyeong-bang calling it suicide wasn't crazy.
No other marks on chest or neck. Skipped pants—nothing suspicious down there anyway. Not that I didn't want to look. Absolutely not.
"Flip him over. Hold him."
"Y-Yes, sir."
Rigor mortis had set in hard; felt like flipping a plastic mannequin.
Thud. Gambino.Gambino sold you out.
His back was flattened, straw mat patterns imprinted on the skin. Guess that's what happens post-mortem.
The roadside corpses probably looked like this too.
"Huh?"
Focused on the back, I spotted blood-matted hair on the occiput late.
Not a deep cut like a blade—more like a bash that tore skin. As if slamming into window bars.
That explained the blood on the bars. But no further progress.
Gaze dropped to hands. Hidden by rigor before; now visible.
Fingertips bloody, some nails torn off. Desperate struggle.
But no other wounds. If strangled mid-sleep, you'd expect defensive marks. Only standout was wall bloodstain. Huh?
"Sir? What's wrong?"
"Hold on."
I drew my eosageom—just in case. Calmed the startled guard, used it as a measuring rod against the corpse's arm.
Shoulder to fingertip: a bit under one-and-a-half sword lengths.
Stood with sword, approached the wall. Blood smeared up-down too, not just sides.
Measured from highest wall stain to window: same length.
Window bar stains: ended at the same length.
Definite. Unless the noose stretched like rubber, this was murder.
Imagined the scene: Someone looped a noose around his sleeping neck, yanked through the window, hanged him.
One rope couldn't hold thrashing; they'd bobbed him up-down, smearing blood everywhere.
But how? Snare a sleeping man without waking him?
Drug him? But someone would've seen.
"Hey, real sorry, but could you lie face-down under here a sec?"
Might spot something from the frame.
"Y-Yes. Like this?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just a moment. Really sorry."
"No worries. Hop up."
Sheathed the sword, had the guard go on all fours under the frame. Stepped carefully on his back, inspected.
Bingo. Indentations inside-out on the sill—like sawing rope back-and-forth hard.
Some method: looped noose on sleeping neck, yanked from outside. Just like this guy.
"Huh?"
Peering through bars, eyes met someone outside.
"Wha—hey!"
He startled like caught stealing, plopped to the floor.
The guard who'd tried bribing me yesterday, beat subordinates earlier. Pale-faced at the entrance before, now lurking here.
"What're you doing there?"
"Uh, ha, ha, n-nothing, sir."
Awkward grin as he stood, waving it off.
"J-Just thought, maybe clues here, so I came."
"Yeah?"
"Y-Yes. W-Well, I'll be off. Carry on, sir."
Dusted nothing off his ass and bolted.
Huh? What?
Done with the frame, about to step down—but that hand waving goodbye stuck in my mind.
Palm and fingers: red rope-like welts. Matched the corpse's neck marks.
"S-Sir...!"
"Oops, sorry."
Hopped off hastily. But suspicion lingered.
Why those marks? From beating subordinates? No. Clubbing doesn't do that.
What'd he yell while swinging?
"Lees! If you'd! Eaten 'em right! We wouldn't! Be in this mess!"
Ah. Lees. He fed them lees.
Heart raced.
Knew not to get excited, but voice shook anyway.
"Hey."
Asked adjacent prisoners.
"You guys get lees last night?"
"Y-Yeah."
"Dinner was lees."
Lees: leftover grain mash after brewing. Nutritious-ish, tasty snack, fed to prisoners as meal sub.
Problem: residual alcohol. Overdo it, you pass out.
But spike with sleep drugs? Serve to prisoners and guards?
Explains everyone "sleeping."
"Uh, Investigator Hyeong-bang, sir."
Stifled trembling excitement, approached him.
"Hm? What is it? Murder after all?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"What makes you think so?"
"Not important now. Call the dawn guards. Quick."
"Why?"
"No time. Now."
"Uh... Fine. Hey!"
Hyeong-bang looked peeved at my rudeness but called them.
Guards lined up again, peering through bars.
"You called, sir?"
"Yeah. Someone gave you lees?"
"Y-Yes. Deputy Lee handed out leftovers after dinner. But that's normal—"
"Skip it. The guy who clubbed you earlier—he's the one?"
"Y-Yes."
Gotcha, you bastard.
"Grab him. Now. Don't ask why. If he resists, light violence okay."
"What do you—"
"Beat him enough to bring alive. Hurry. Ten nyang to whoever drags him."
"B-But..."
Guards baffled, eyed Hyeong-bang, but feet headed for the door.
"Captain Kim. What's going on? Why arrest Deputy Lee?"
Watched guards go, then to me.
"Wait a bit, you'll see."
Didn't spill yet—payback for locking me in here.
He'd confess anyway. If not? Joseon's three great search engines: Ziggle (faster queries, redder cursor), Bogle (knows water's answers), Juri (cries truth).
Couldn't wait for the show.