Auto-K
Auto-K.
A mocking neologism for passively hoping something resolves itself automatically.
It was also a derogatory term poking fun at women's tendency in crises to just repeat "What do we do? What do we do?" instead of solving things themselves—waiting for someone else to handle it.
And right now.
That Auto-K spectacle was unfolding right in the heart of a South Korean police station.
Only the subjects had changed; the essence was the same.
The reluctance to take responsibility.
The wish for someone else to fix it.
As another detective ran off to fetch Ji-hoon from the holding cell, Detective Park, sprawled on the floor, cried out.
"Ch-Chief! I'm innocent!"
"Innocent?! What the hell do you have to be innocent about!"
"I really am innocent! I... I only did it after asking!"
Detective Park clutched his swollen shin, sniffling pitifully.
It was pure survival instinct.
If this kept up, he'd be the sole scapegoat and get buried alone.
Time to rat out the ghost.
He had zero intention of going down alone.
"Asking who? What are you talking about!"
"It was my first time with a foreigner in custody, so I clearly asked the investigation support team! What the law required!"
Park caught his breath and continued.
"And Officer Kim from support—Officer Kim Min-ji—she told me!"
"What!?"
"Legally, we've got 48 hours. Just drag it out with some administrative error excuse! She said she'd delay the paperwork on her end, so beat a confession out of him in the meantime!"
"......!"
"I thought that was procedure... I just followed support's orders! What was I supposed to know? That's my only crime—doing what I was told!"
A cowardly excuse.
But also the most effective way to dodge blame.
I just followed the expert's advice.
In other words, the decision wasn't mine—it was theirs.
Classic buck-passing.
The chief's eyebrow twitched.
"K... Kim Min-ji?"
The chief whirled around, fuming.
"Hey! Deputy chief!"
"Y-yes, Chief!"
"Get support on the line now! Tell that Kim Min-ji bitch to haul ass here!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
The deputy chief fumbled for the internal phone.
The other officers in the lobby jumped into action too.
"Support team! Pick up!"
"Where's Officer Kim Min-ji? She clock out?"
"Call her now! If she's home, drag her ass here!"
The station buzzed with frantic energy in seconds.
Meanwhile, near the station in a two-room apartment.
Off-duty Officer Kim Min-ji had showered and was humming as she slapped on a sheet mask.
"Ah~ Feels so fresh."
She flopped onto the bed and pulled out her smartphone.
Liking articles about rising Ministry of Gender Equality approval ratings, firing off replies to Kim Ji-hoon hate comments, burning with self-righteous fury(?).
Detective Park's probably handling the beatdown fine. Tomorrow at work, I'll ask if he got the confession.
Clueless that the pebble she'd tossed had triggered an avalanche.
"Hey!!!!!!"
A bloodcurdling scream burst from the receiver.
Kim nearly dropped her mask in shock.
"Where are you right now! Get your ass here! Straight to the chief's office NOW!!!"
"Huh? What? Deputy Chief, why..."
"No backtalk—MOVE!"
Click.
Kim stared blankly at her phone screen.
Her heart pounded.
Instinct told her.
Something was wrong.
Horribly, irreversibly wrong.
"Wha... what...?"
With trembling hands, she peeled off the mask.
Her reflection in the mirror was ghostly pale.
What do I do...
The magic words slipped from her lips unbidden.
"Huff... huff..."
Kim Min-ji burst through the station entrance, lungs burning like fire.
She'd rushed out so fast her hair was a mess.
Her pride in crisp suits and full makeup for selfies was long shattered.
"I-I'm here..."
The moment she opened the door to the intelligence crime squad office.
Words failed her.
The room hung in heavy silence.
Like the aftermath of a storm. Or a bomb about to blow.
Suffocating stillness.
The scene hit her like a shockwave.
Chief Lee Cheol-su first—tie undone, glaring daggers at her.
At his feet, Detective Park crouched, clutching his shin and whimpering pathetically.
But spotting her, his eyes turned venomous.
You're the one who nearly killed me.
A gaze dripping resentment and curses.
And beyond them.
Blue-eyed foreigners exuding overwhelming pressure.
"......"
Kim's legs buckled.
What the hell had happened?
As she frantically scanned, eyes darting, her gaze locked on one last figure.
Deep in the office.
Beside Consul General Henry.
The man who should be rotting on the cold detention floor.
Kim Ji-hoon.
He stood there.
Handcuffs gone.
Lounging casually in a chair.
"Ah......"
A gasp escaped Kim's lips.
"Kim. Min. Ji."
The chief's voice rumbled low, like from the depths of hell.
"Y-yes... Chief..."
"Get over here."
"......"
"GET OVER HERE!!!!"
The chief's roar exploded.
Kim yelped, stumbling back.
A raging chief and Ji-hoon ahead.
What do I do.
Even that word dominating her mind held no power now.
She dragged her trembling legs forward, step by step.
"You?"
Chief Lee Cheol-su loomed right in her face.
Kim recoiled, terrified.
"Huh? What... what is it?"
"Park says."
The chief jerked his chin at Park.
"You told him. Stall 48 hours. Blame admin errors?"
"N-no... Chief! What are you talking about!"
Kim jumped.
Deny first! Her habit whenever trouble brewed.
"I... I just told him the rules! The judgment was the detective's!"
"What?! Hey! Kim Min-ji!"
Park shot up from the floor.
Eyes wild with injustice.
"You said it! He's the enemy of women—rough him up right and you'll get promoted! You said it yourself!"
"When did I! You were drooling for that promotion!"
"You bitch!"
"Hey, why the language! Chief, look at him! He's a misogynist!"
Chaos.
The chief panted, glaring at Kim.
"You're on standby. No—suspended. Prep for internal affairs."
"Ch-Chief...!"
"And you, Park—same deal. Both of you, out of my sight!"
Then.
"Amusing."
A low, icy voice.
Ji-hoon rose slowly from his chair.
All eyes snapped to him.
Ji-hoon straightened his rumpled clothes and strolled toward Kim and Park.
"Officer Kim Min-ji, was it?"
"......"
Kim couldn't meet his eyes.
Just hours ago, she'd mocked and hounded him.
But the fury radiating from Ji-hoon now was beyond her.
"For women's rights? Justice?"
Ji-hoon smirked.
"How's it feel now?"
"......"
Ji-hoon turned to the chief.
The chief bowed instinctively at eye contact.
"Aigoo, Mr. Kim Ji-hoon. I'm so sorry. My staff management failed..."
"Chief."
"Yes, yes!"
"Can I go now?"
Ji-hoon cut in coldly.
"Of course, of course. You're free to go."
Ji-hoon turned as if done, exiting with his uncle, lawyer Choi Il-woo, striding out the station doors.
Left behind in the office.
The chief slumped to the floor; Park and Kim glared murderously, trembling.
Outside the station.
Cold night air filled Ji-hoon's lungs.
Freedom at last.
"You did well, Ji-hoon."
Lawyer Choi Il-woo clapped his shoulder.
"Thanks to you, Uncle. Appreciate it."
"No need. Sorry I was late."
Ji-hoon approached the waiting Consul General Henry.
"Thanks, Henry. I owe you."
"Just doing my job."
Henry winked, climbing into his car.
"Rest up after the funeral. Embassy'll handle the rest."
"Got it."
U.S. consular vehicles roared off.
Just Ji-hoon and Choi Il-woo remained.
"Let's go. To the funeral hall."
Choi opened the car door.
"Yeah."
Ji-hoon got in, gazing at the night sky.
Now, to where he truly belonged.
Where family—and Grandmother—waited.
But his eyes remained coldly sunken.
1 a.m.
When mourners had thinned.
The door to the funeral hall's private room creaked open in the silence.
"......"
Ji-hoon entered.
Messy hair, tie loose, face haggard.
But his eyes burned sharp.
"Ji-hoon...!"
His mother, Choi Mi-hee, dozing fitfully, spotted him first and bolted up.
Father Kim Seongtae and brother Ji-hyeok stared in shock.
"Dad, Mom. Sorry I'm late."
Ji-hoon bowed briefly, voice hoarse.
Family wanted to rush and hug him but hesitated.
His gaze was elsewhere.
In the corner of the altar room.
Lily stood there.
Black mourning clothes.
Her snow-white skin against the pitch-black garb felt utterly natural, as if she'd always been there.
While Ji-hoon was gone, she'd guarded the hall as daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law.
Their eyes met.
Thank you.
Ji-hoon conveyed it silently.
His wife, filling his absence while he stewed in rage in detention.
Gratitude and guilt softened his eyes.
Lily just smiled faintly and nodded.
Welcome home, husband.
That brief, profound exchange ended; Ji-hoon turned.
"I'll change and be right back."
He headed to the bereaved lounge.
Moments later.
Black suit, hemp armband—Ji-hoon emerged.
He strode forward.
Chrysanthemum scent stung his nose.
Finally.
Face to face with Grandmother's portrait, buried in flowers.
"......"
She smiled in the photo, as always.
Ji-hoon took incense with trembling hands.
Lit it, placed it in the burner.
Acrid smoke rose.
He knelt slowly, so very slowly.
Cold floor chilled his knees, but he felt nothing.
Forehead to the ground, he bowed.
Once.
Twice.
And half more.
Rising, gazing at her photo again.
The dam broke.
"Grandma..."
Pent-up tears flooded out.
Airport humiliation, station fury, injustice.
All that poison drained as tears.
Left only: a grandson's grief for lost family.
"Sorry... for being so late... sob... sorry..."
Ji-hoon sobbed like a child, shoulders heaving.
"I was gonna succeed... make you proud... ugh... sob..."
His wails filled the quiet hall.
Mother watching behind, father, Lily.
All covered mouths, tears streaming.
Here now, only the grandson crumbling before Grandmother's death: Kim Ji-hoon.
He called her name endlessly, for so long.