The Quiet Battlefield of the Prosecutors' Office
Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office. Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office. Home to 234 prosecutors. The largest district office in the country, handling all politically and economically significant cases.
People often call the prosecution a quiet warzone. Amid events that shake the nation, the interior remains deathly silent. Not only do raised voices rarely echo between colleagues, but the building's walls circulate ultra-purified mana, providing near-perfect soundproofing.
"What's with all the commotion? Is there some event today?"
"Beats me. I haven't heard anything."
The fourth deputy chief prosecutor posed the question, but the other prosecutors trailing behind just tilted their heads in confusion. A dozen or so security guards waited in front of the elevators. Not knowing what was going on, the deputy chief pressed the button for the 13th floor—but they were all headed there too.
"Hey, you young folks have no business on the 13th floor."
The 13th floor housed the chief prosecutor's office and the deputy chief offices; aside from admin staff, no one usually went up there.
"Ah...! The chief prosecutor summoned us."
"Really? Why?"
He wondered if the old man had finally cracked after enduring nonstop media fire.
[Floor 13.]
As the elevator doors opened with the announcement, dozens of security guards stood in perfect formation on either side. The scene was so eerie it made him wonder if someone had died.
'Is this a prosecutors' office or a mob hideout?'
Curiosity drew him all the way to the chief prosecutor's door, where he froze, eyes wide, then turned on his heel.
"Ugh...! Someone's definitely getting killed today...! Why the hell is that guy here?"
* * *
"Nngh...!"
Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho struggled to move the mountain of documents, one stack at a time. Top-secret files. He wasn't even sure if letting an outsider browse them like this was kosher, but what could he do?
He just didn't like people with extraterritorial privileges, like Professor Cheon.
"You look unhappy."
"No way! I'm just so thrilled to see your face after all this time—thrilled, I tell you...!"
"Is this all the files?"
"Huff... huff... Yeah. That's everything I can let you see. Enough?"
"You've done enough. Sit down already."
'Acts like a dog when he needs me worked!'
Professor Cheon glared with wide eyes, but now was a time for patience.
"Parkkas or sikhye? What'll it be?"
"Close the door first."
His voice carried aura, a clear threat rather than a request. The man moved.
Click.
Reseating himself across from Professor Cheon Kyujin, his brother eyed him warily. Time hadn't spared the reunion; his black hair was outnumbered by white, almost fully gray from afar. He still insisted on suits, though.
"So, out with it! Better early than late...! Why's a guy who ghosted me for 20 years suddenly dredging up a 7-year-old case? Lost your marbles?"
It was a cornered man's desperate lash-out. Professor Cheon set down the file binder, interlaced his fingers, and spoke.
"The Walpurgis incident survivor. You knew about her, right?"
His low, measured tone flustered Prosecutor Cheon.
"How did you..."
"Sigh... Jeong-ho."
"Why bother getting up? I can explain everything, bro! And you know how many eyes are out there?"
Prosecutor Cheon clenched his teeth, stopping his brother from rising. That's why he'd stationed guards outside—as human CCTV, if nothing else.
"Cheon Se-min's watching our daughter at home right now. I need to get back soon, so let's wrap this up early today. Please."
"Se-min? That kid skipping his studies...! Wait, what? Daughter?"
'Did I hear that wrong?'
Two—no, three—words that shouldn't mix, like mint-choco pizza.
Prosecutor Cheon doubted his ears and asked again.
"NoName. The tough kid who became our daughter a few months ago."
"..."
A name impossible to forget once heard. It was definite.
"Where were you last year, and what were you doing?"
Professor Cheon drew a wand from his sleeve. It extended to staff length with a thud on the floor, mana resonating outward through the chief prosecutor's office. A massive magic circle unfurled like carpet.
Localized Crystallization
Ice Flower
A bone-chilling cold bloomed. Every breath Prosecutor Cheon exhaled froze into ice, crumbling harmlessly to the floor. Glancing at the magic circle, his face paled. Thousands of ice spikes floated in the air, aimed at his throat.
"Haha..."
Prosecutor Cheon forced a bitter smile, looking at his brother with weary eyes. Undeterred, Professor Cheon pointed his staff at the man's mouth and pressed.
"Better answer straight."
The mage's eyes, glaring at the chief prosecutor, still burned with fierce blue light.
* * *
Back to last June.
"Are you the guardian?"
"Not exactly. Close enough. Where's the child?"
"I'll show you."
On the day NoName was rescued, Prosecutor Cheon rushed to Asan Hospital to verify her identity. Seeing the girl in the room, so far from his expectations, he double-checked with the doctor. She looked no older than five. Too young for a Walpurgis survivor.
"How old is she?"
"Are you sure you're the guardian?"
"Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho, Seoul Central District. This is case-related—cooperate, please."
"Ah... yes..."
Exactly 7 years old by record, 103cm tall, 15.8kg. Bones protruding from limbs, belly slightly distended. As a UNICEF donor, Prosecutor Cheon recognized severe malnutrition. Detective Ma Beom-il had said mana leaked inexplicably from the capsule, sustaining her till now.
Survival was good news, but her condition was dire. He pondered.
"Is she in bad shape?"
"We need her conscious for full scans."
"Your initial take?"
"Hmm... AI says Lennox-Gastaut syndrome—some muscular dystrophy. My view: EDMD or CMD, compounded with Restakaya Syndrome. Honestly... tough. A month is a miracle; even then, not past a year."
"What's exactly wrong?"
"Can't hold herself up consistently. Biggest issue: the Aura Heart. Prolonged high-mana exposure adapts it—normal environments are toxic. Like fish from clean rivers dumped in algae-choked lakes."
"Oxygen starvation, suffocating?"
"Depends on adaptation."
If rescued a year earlier...? Prosecutor Cheon couldn't hide his regret. Pacing the Asan lobby, he mulled it over.
Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho. He exposed every Walpurgis agent in Jeju, earning his spot as third deputy chief in Seoul Central. He climbed through Cheongju, Suwon, and more, finally claiming Seoul Central chief. His merits extended a shaky regime five years, putting him in the ruling party's favor—next in line for prosecutor general.
'Revealing her as the sole survivor now? Massive merit.'
The failed hostage rescue haunted the government. Erasing the ruling party's sole blemish.
'Is this right...?'
The sole survivor. Prey for all politicians. Ruling party to justify ops; opposition for reinvestigation via her horrors. In this split polls climate, they'd pounce.
Neither path helped the child.
"Sigh... such a shame."
A terminally ill kid dragged through politics? Too cruel. After an all-nighter, Prosecutor Cheon decided to bury the case and hide her. No Korean citizenship needed in today's world.
"Hello. First time at Merlin Orphanage?"
"Yeah. Not here for the kids... donating."
"May the Lord's grace be with you! This way? Child sponsorship?"
"No. Can't due to circumstances. For facility repairs."
"Ah, yes! Amount?"
"Hm..."
He paused pulling out million-won checks. Avoiding direct ties to NoName was selfish self-preservation. Irked, Prosecutor Cheon pocketed his wallet.
"200 million won. Should help operations for a year."
* * *
Prosecutor Cheon let out a gasp.
"Whoa... this tiny thing turned out like that...!"
Professor Cheon showed a photo from NoName's academy entrance ceremony. Worlds apart from then; his jaw dropped. Pocketing the phone, Professor Cheon relayed NoName's wishes.
But Prosecutor Cheon crossed a leg, displeased.
"So, planned long ago? When was it exposed as radical left fake news? Wanna get nabbed for insurrection conspiracy too?"
North Korean spies stirring UN-Korea rifts had been active recently.
"I trust NoName. She's not one to spout off thoughtlessly."
"Old age mellowed you weirdly. Didn't you see those annual memorial clowns demanding reinvestigation? No real families! Dig deeper, maybe one. All politicos angling for seats!"
Case closed; no resources for wild-goose chases. Blaming UN now? Stirring international mess.
"It's what our NoName wants."
"Father-of-the-year much? Fine, hypothetically true—then I'm toast as top dog. Can't help from my position. Not thrilled."
Cheon Jeong-ho wasn't ambitionless. Demoted to Jeju once, he clawed up—prosecution's success story. If true, heads from his patrons would roll; he'd end up some law institute researcher.
"View records here only. No takeout. Even for Brother Byeong-ho."
Last courtesy as chief.
Professor Cheon's phone chimed softly. From NoName.
"Who? Your daughter?"
"Yeah. Whining about academy. What now?"
"That age. Normal."
"Raising kids is rough."
"Thought it'd be easy? Se-min alone was hell."
Prosecutor Cheon nodded.
"Jeong-ho."
"Leaving now? Please, go...! First visit in years, and this chaos. Damn, my neck's killing me."
"Thanks. So, just one punch today."
"Why—why?! I did everything you asked!"
"NoName says you caused her a lot of pain."
"Crazy... same old temper! Who knew that doc was a quack!"
That evening, seeing his boss's swollen face, Secretary Kim clocked out relieved. Hospital visit solo—staff off already.
"Damn alpha generation... Boss stays late, they punch out on time? Kids these days got no concept."
He grumbled at the fast-changing world.