My Turn
The storm of U.S. Consulate vehicles had roared out of Incheon Yeongjong Police Station.
A heavy silence hung over the office.
"Heh... heh..."
Park Detective and Officer Kim Min-ji were still glaring daggers at each other, breathing heavily.
They probably wanted to kill one another right then and there.
Your fault.
You ruined my life.
That tense atmosphere was shattered by Police Chief Lee Cheol-su, who slumped onto the sofa with a thud.
"Cut it out."
The chief let out a deep sigh as he loosened his tie.
"Ch-Chief..."
"I don't want to see it. Just stop."
Lee Cheol-su pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it.
Tsssk.
Acrid smoke curled upward.
He exhaled a long plume, scanning the two who were watching him nervously.
"You two, don't come in for a while."
"Pardon...?"
"I'll process it as vacation time. Go rest somewhere. And stay out of my sight."
Park Detective's eyes widened in surprise.
Vacation instead of disciplinary action or dismissal?
"Chief, what do you—"
"You idiot. Can't you figure it out?"
Lee Cheol-su clicked his tongue.
"Anyway, we let him go. Released him in under 24 hours."
"......"
"That's what matters. Illegal detention? If they sue, let 'em. We can claim it was a procedural error and released him as soon as we confirmed. Done."
Lee Cheol-su's eyes gleamed slyly.
"The Americans got their citizen back, so they won't make a fuss. You think they've got nothing better to do than fly here to chop your heads off?"
"Ah......"
"So lay low for a bit. Don't go showing your faces to the press and giving them ammo. We'll talk when things quiet down."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, Chief!"
Park Detective and Kim Min-ji's faces lit up.
They bowed repeatedly.
That's right.
Just moments ago, the chief had chewed out Park Detective in front of Consul General Henry—like he was kicking him in the shins.
It was pure Hollywood theater.
He had to put on a show of righteous anger and disciplining his subordinate in front of the victim and the Americans.
That way, they'd think, Okay, they're handling it themselves, and let it slide.
A performance. Protecting his own.
Better to fake a hard stomp and sneak them out the back than half-ass it and go down together.
That was the skill Lee Cheol-su had honed over 30 years on the force.
"Get out. All of you. I don't want to see your faces."
"Yes, sir! Loyalty!"
Park Detective and Kim Min-ji bolted from the office like they were fleeing.
Their mutual resentment lingered, but relief at surviving outweighed it.
The now-empty chief's office.
Lee Cheol-su stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Whew..."
A wave of relief washed over him—he'd cleared a massive hurdle.
He picked up the receiver.
The police commissioner's hotline.
"Hey, Chief Lee. How'd it go?"
The commissioner's voice carried tension.
Lee Cheol-su replied with feigned nonchalance.
"Yes, Commissioner. No need to worry."
"Met with the U.S. Consul General, cleared up the misunderstanding. And the suspect... er, Mr. Kim Ji-hoon, we released him politely."
"Phew... Good thing. I was sweating bullets."
"My guys got a little overzealous. I'll school them properly and have them reflect for a while."
"Good, good. You always handle things cleanly, Chief Lee. Well done."
"Thank you. Loyalty."
Click.
The line went dead.
Lee Cheol-su leaned back in his chair, humming a little tune.
"No big deal."
He was mistaken.
Detention. Threats. Illegal. Funeral.
Each word was violent on its own.
But what happens when they all fuse and explode?
It stops being mere violence—it's a disaster.
Especially when the detonator is the world's superpower, America, blasting it across prime-time news.
Day two at the funeral hall.
Kim Ji-hoon wasn't just sitting there grieving.
He'd called David Kim with a request.
"Tip off ABC News. Tell them how an ally nation treated me."
ABC News went into overdrive.
It was a scoop. They dispatched their Tokyo correspondent to Incheon immediately.
In the funeral hall's reception room, Ji-hoon sat for an exclusive interview.
He didn't bother cleaning up.
Hollow, sleepless eyes.
Rough skin.
Black mourning clothes and a hemp armband.
His haggard appearance was the strongest message.
The camera rolled. The reporter asked:
"Mr. Kim, what happened at the airport?"
Ji-hoon spoke in a low, steady voice.
"I was treated like a criminal."
"A criminal?"
"Yes. Handcuffed the moment I landed—for a criminal case that hasn't even gone to trial."
He paused, grasping a glass with trembling hands.
"They threw me in a tiny cell. I asked to call a lawyer—denied. Even my request to contact the U.S. Embassy was ignored."
"My God. No consular access?"
"That's right."
Tears welled in Ji-hoon's eyes.
Thinking of his grandmother brought them naturally.
"All I wanted... was to see my grandmother one last time. But they tried to rob me even of that farewell."
The interview aired live across America.
American viewers were stunned.
Public outrage exploded—not just from the president's supporters, but even progressive Democrats who championed human rights joined in condemning the Korean government.
This transcended politics; it was a matter of basic human decency.
No excuse could shield detaining and threatening someone come to mourn their family.
And as America burned, the sparks flew straight across the Pacific.
"What the hell is this?!"
Korean newsroom directors screamed.
With ABC and Fox News leading headlines, Korean media couldn't ignore it.
No more burying the story.
Korean portal sites flipped overnight.
Officials' hopes of quietly sweeping it under the rug shattered.
The funeral's final day. Dawn before the procession.
The people of the Republic of Korea now knew the ugly truth.
"What? He's a criminal, right? But illegal detention?"
"Wouldn't let him call a lawyer? Those psycho cops."
"Damn... what an embarrassment."
Public fury zeroed in on the police and government.
Chief Lee Cheol-su dropped the remote watching the news from his quarters.
Government officials nearly fainted scrolling articles.
Today's stock gallery was a powder keg of rage, already molten.
Our country's totally fucked!!!!
The gallery drowned in fury and mockery.
But what really fanned the flames was the backlash from the opposing women's community.
Checked theirs—total circus. "What's wrong with catching a criminal? Don't we have sovereignty? Why bow to America?" Spouting nonsense. Clueless legends who don't even know rule of law.
The Republic of Korea suffered from a disease: fake virtue or die.
PC culture was much the same.
They shunned real sacrifice but preached faux goodness for moral superiority highs—filling their pathetic voids. Society brimmed with them.
Why? It cost nothing.
Talking was free.
But this incident was different.
The moral high ground they'd claimed by slamming Ji-hoon as a deadbeat? Shattered.
My turn.
Yes. Ji-hoon's turn now.
A matter of human decency.
That's right.
Mourning death—especially family—is basic human courtesy, even for enemies: "Rest in peace."
Mock or refute it, and society brands you an empathy-lacking freak.
Funerals are sacred worldwide—the final moment with the deceased.
Thus, women blindly shielding their ministry got pulverized.
Still, brainless finger-tappers persisted.
They wheeled out the miracle logic: "We don't need America anyway."
Export nation here—chart shows China tops at 19.7%, then U.S. (18.3%), EU (10.8%), Japan (4.6%). Refute with facts. Better kiss up to China tsk tsk.
Proud post.
But it got schooled instantly.
Yes.
U.S. trade: huge surplus.
China, the "top exporter" darling: deficit.
OP scraped raw stats for clout.
Drowned in "Don't you know surplus vs. deficit?" replies, she deleted in panic.
Too late.
The capture spread everywhere.
Even their own forums turned: "Delete that shit, embarrassing. Study first."
Ignorance breeds boldness—but it was eroding national dignity.
Ji-hoon's single exposé triggered a butterfly effect.
Korea reeled as old wounds burst open.
Meanwhile, with ABC making it a global issue, the U.S. government couldn't settle for "regrets."
An ally insulted their hero.
A citizen's rights trampled.
The State Department acted swiftly.
Principle: Reciprocity.
"Since Korea violated the Vienna Convention and stripped a U.S. citizen's rights, we'll respond in kind."
The U.S. dropped a bombshell.
Until fully resolved with satisfactory compensation, apology, and negotiations from the victim Kim Ji-hoon—they'd temporarily halt all South Korean nationals' entry to the U.S.
ESTA waivers? Suspended. Even existing visas? Invalidated.
But the real terror followed.
"If the victim 'Kim Ji-hoon' isn't satisfied..."
The State Department spokesperson's words were apocalyptic.
"We'll review forced deportation procedures for Koreans currently in the U.S."
Hostage for hostage.
Korea held Ji-hoon hostage? America would hold every Korean in the U.S. hostage.
The Republic of Korea flipped.
Students flying out next week.
Business execs with key meetings.
Families visiting kin.
Lightning strike overnight.
"Wait, I got my visa—can't go?"
"U.S. exports blocked? Company's bankrupt!"
Incheon Airport's departures became a madhouse of screams and wails. The Foreign Ministry paralyzed by protesters.
A spark from one ministry's ego war.
Now a nuclear storm holding the nation's economy and daily lives hostage.
The government passed pale—asphyxiated in terror.