Truth Really Does Move People
After all, it seemed that sincerity really did reach people.
Point-striking Martial Scripture was a martial art specialized not in killing, but in subduing and suppression.
Among its techniques was one called Samsara Pain Stamp—a point-striking method that, true to its name, caused pain in repeated cycles.
There was an irregular meridian above the collarbone where the chest pulse and vital current crossed.
If you drove internal energy into this hidden channel, which belonged to no ordinary meridian, and then severed its flow as though you were taking it away by force...
"Kraaaagh!!"
...it could produce pain of that intensity.
Pain so deep it felt as if the bundles of nerves themselves were being torn apart one by one.
"Haaah, haaah."
Then, after the blink of an eye, the pain vanished as if it had never existed.
As though it had all been a vicious nightmare.
"W-what...?"
Everyone was so dumbfounded by the senseless Chinese man suddenly shouting that they could only stare.
"Why is he acting like that all of a sudden?"
Watching the man break out in a cold sweat, Kang Tae-won asked.
"I’m not sure. I don’t really—"
Song Tan shrugged.
"Maybe he’s pretending to be sick because he doesn’t want to be taken away?"
"For a stunt like that, the scream was awfully real."
"But he looks fine again now."
"Hmm..."
While Kang Tae-won and Yu Gyeong-ho tried to make sense of it...
"Ghk!"
...the bald Chinese man suddenly suffered another bizarre seizure.
Not long after, his hands shook violently as he frantically touched his own body.
From anyone watching, it was an utterly grotesque sight.
"Hey, Tan. You ask him. Find out what the hell is going on."
"Understood."
Song Tan bent his eyes into a polite smile and crouched down in front of the bald man.
In fluent Chinese.
"Are you feeling a little clearer-headed now?"
"You! What the hell did you do to me...?"
"What did I do?"
"You definitely... definitely did something to me... ghk."
As the pain started again, the man couldn’t even finish the sentence.
It was a kind of agony he had never once felt in his life, the sort that left the mind floating far away in darkness.
He wanted nothing more than to die on the spot.
What made it worse was that...
"Haaah, haaah."
...after only a moment, everything would disappear again as if it had all been a lie.
Once he realized the pain would keep returning, his mentality began to crumble like dry plaster.
"You seem to be in rather serious condition. Shall I take you to the hospital? I can’t promise they’ll be able to cure you there, but..."
"P-please! Save me! Please! Get me out of this pain... ghk."
When the pain started again, the man clutched at Song Tan’s pant leg.
The drunken haze that had swollen up in him had long since been washed away by the abyss of pain.
What remained of him was nothing but the primal urge to escape this torment as quickly as possible.
"If you promise not to make any more trouble and to cooperate, I’ll help you. How does that sound?"
The bald Chinese man nodded so violently it looked as though his neck might snap.
Fear of not knowing when the next wave of agony would strike had completely paralyzed his reason.
"Tan, what on earth is wrong with this guy? Does he have some chronic illness?"
At Yu Gyeong-ho’s question, Song Tan answered without much concern.
"He has panic disorder. I suppose it suddenly flared up. They say he’ll be fine if he rests a bit."
"He’s not just putting on a show so we won’t haul him in, is he?"
"Doesn’t seem like it. He’s asking for a little time to calm down."
"Good grief. What a mess. Fine. Keep an eye on him. We’re going outside to clean up the rest."
Kang Tae-won chimed in as well.
"Watch him carefully. If he runs, we’re really going to have a problem."
"Yes, sir."
Once they were left alone, Song Tan smiled and held up three fingers, then folded them down one by one.
And when the last finger folded in...
"Ghk."
The man’s eyes flew open wide. His body trembled violently as his eyes rolled back.
Only after another round of horrific pain, so fierce he couldn’t even scream, did...
"Haaah, haaah. Please! Please save me."
...the man seize the hem of Song Tan’s pants in desperation.
That cheerful young police officer standing before him was terrifying beyond measure.
He couldn’t even begin to guess what had been done to him or how, much less figure out how he was supposed to respond.
All he knew for certain was a primal instinct: only the Korean cop in front of him could end this pain.
"Will you promise to follow my instructions from now on without resistance?"
"Yes! I-I will! Absolutely! Absolutely."
After looking at the man for a moment, Song Tan tapped his shoulder.
At a glance, he looked like a compassionate policeman gently soothing some hopelessly incorrigible thug.
And then, astonishingly—
"Huh?"
Even after time passed, the pain was gone.
Relief washed over him, and goosebumps broke out all over his body.
Now that it had been proven the source of the pain was that Korean officer—
"If you came to another country, you should just behave yourself and have a nice time. Why go drinking and cause trouble?"
"Ah! W-well, I was having fun at the casino and lost all my money... and once the alcohol kicked in, I got angry and felt wronged..."
"So why take that out on a tiny restaurant like this?"
"I’m sorry! I committed a sin deserving death."
"You should apologize not to me, but to the restaurant owner. If you don’t receive proper forgiveness, I’ll have no choice but to make things hard for you again."
The bald man, now drained of all color, approached the restaurant owner with a troubled face and bowed deeply.
He kept blurting out duibuqi—sorry, sorry—as he went.
At first the startled owner could only stand there blankly, but the Chinese man was so desperate he began thumping his forehead against the floor.
Terrified, the owner hurriedly hauled him back up.
"W-what are you doing? Why are you like this?"
"He says he’s truly remorseful and wants to apologize."
"Good heavens. He was running around like a madman a minute ago, and now this?"
Still, the worry that had darkened the owner’s face had lifted somewhat.
"That enough?"
At the Chinese man’s question, Song Tan shook his head.
"An apology is an apology. You’ll also have to cover everything you damaged here, the disruption to business today, and finally the physical and emotional damages to the owner and staff. Naturally... you will do that, yes?"
Meeting those colorless eyes, the bald man nodded.
So vigorously it looked like his neck might snap.
"I-I’ll compensate everything! Of course I will."
With that, Song Tan wrapped things up and relayed the situation to Kang Tae-won and Yu Gyeong-ho.
"He really said he’d do all that?"
The two men were dumbfounded.
"Yes. He said he’d cooperate sincerely with the investigation and provide compensation. He also said he’d accept punishment gladly."
"Hah..."
It was absurd.
What drunkard obediently listened to every word the police said like that?
And yet that impossible thing had happened right before their eyes.
"My God..."
The foreign drunk who had charged at them with a broken beer bottle was now meek as a lamb, climbing into the patrol car under his own power.
Not only that, but he was sitting bolt upright, like a fresh private being drilled into shape.
"What the hell did you say to him?"
"I just handled it according to procedure. I told him that even if he was a foreigner, if he caused trouble in Korea, he had to listen politely to the Korean police. And that if he refused, he could face appropriate punishment."
"You said only that, and he turned into this?"
"I suppose sincerity really does move people."
".........."
It still didn’t seem entirely convincing, but they couldn’t press him further.
After all, a case that should have taken two hours had been settled in thirty minutes.
"I really can’t make heads or tails of you."
And so Kang Tae-won merely tilted his head again, as he always did these days.
***
"Well, this is a first for me in all my years working foreigner affairs."
Looking at the four Chinese men sitting there as meekly as baby birds, Inspector Pyo Se-jun let out a dry laugh.
"What exactly happened to these people?"
Kang Tae-won explained the situation to him from beginning to end.
Then Pyo Se-jun, from Annam Station, turned his gaze to Song Tan.
"When did you learn Chinese?"
"I taught myself when I was young."
"Self-taught?"
It wasn’t as if he could say he had once been an ancient Chinese man in a previous life, so Song Tan could only answer that way.
"Do you speak any other foreign languages?"
"I know a little English, but I’m not as good at it as I am with Chinese."
"So communication isn’t a problem, then?"
At that, the detective from the foreign affairs division’s eyes began to gleam.
As if he’d just found a very appetizing morsel.
"If you ever have questions about the foreign affairs unit, give me a call. I’ll be happy to explain everything."
With a wink, the detective slipped a business card into Song Tan’s front pocket.
"I’ll be going now. Good work, everyone."
And then, coolly escorting the four Chinese men away, the foreign affairs detective disappeared.
Yu Gyeong-ho, who had been sneaking glances the whole time, came over clapping his hands.
"Our monster rookie just keeps digging up one surprise after another. Why didn’t you say you were good at Chinese?"
"There was no opportu—"
"Don’t you dare say there was no chance! You infuriatingly humble subordinate."
Kang Tae-won burst out laughing and stood.
"Still, thanks to our youngest, we’ll barely make it out at a decent hour. Let’s wrap it up and head home."
"A district office in Ma-cheon where work-life balance actually exists. If people from other districts heard that, they’d fall over."
And so the senior officers left the station first, while Song Tan and Woo Seung-tae, the youngest two, finished getting ready to go a little later.
While changing in the locker room, Woo Seung-tae tapped Song Tan on the shoulder.
"Tan, you got plans after work today?"
"No. Nothing."
"Then how about a quick drink? We haven’t had one just the two of us since you got here."
Song Tan nodded readily.
It happened to be something he wanted to ask as well.
The two of them headed to a shabby old pub near the district office.
It was run by a lone middle-aged woman, and the side dishes were cheap, so the police loved the place.
"Haaah, this is killer."
Woo Seung-tae drained the soju in his glass and bit into a piece of spicy cartilaginous chicken cartilage with relish.
"Does the district life suit you, hyung?"
Woo Seung-tae grinned and nodded.
"Honestly, I was a little nervous when I first got assigned here, but I’m fine now. I adapted faster than I expected. These days my senior doesn’t even chew me out that much."
"No, I mean not that. I’m asking whether you’re getting hurt on my account."
The chopsticks heading for the side dishes stopped in midair.
Then Woo Seung-tae downed another shot of soju in silence.
"Haaah... you think there isn’t?"
"I asked because I thought there might be."
They had transferred to the district office on the same day, as the same class.
And Woo Seung-tae was five years older, too.
It would have been stranger if they hadn’t been compared.
"To be blunt, it was really rough at first. You caught a wanted criminal on your first day at work, while I couldn’t even use the radio properly and got chewed out. Sigh... honestly, back then I just wanted to quit. I started thinking maybe this wasn’t the path for me."
Song Tan refilled the empty glass, and Woo Seung-tae went on like a man airing his grievances.
"My life motto is that comparison is the seed of misery, so never compare myself to others. Usually I don’t give a damn about what anyone else is doing... but wow, this was impossible to ignore. The comparison was just too glaring. Honestly, it was embarrassing too."
That was the part Song Tan had worried about.
He had feared Woo Seung-tae might quit because of him.
As though reading his thoughts, Woo Seung-tae flashed him a crooked smile.
"But I’m fine now. You could say I’ve got my head on straight again."
Woo Seung-tae filled Song Tan’s glass while looking at him intently.
"I’m serious, kid. I’m not just saying that. I really don’t care anymore. You know why?"
Clink.
Woo Seung-tae touched his glass to Song Tan’s and threw back the soju with refreshing ease.
"To go dark, there has to be some kind of difference, some real gap—but this? You were a wall I couldn’t even hope to climb from the start. So I stopped even having those thoughts. Now, how should I put it... I’m your older brother, but I almost respect you. Like, damn, was this bastard born to be a cop or what? How can someone do that? If I spent twenty years as a cop and then died and came back, could I even do what you do? Once I thought that far, it all got sorted out. Ah! It’s a tree I can’t climb anyway, so what’s the point of acting bitter and jealous? Better to just stick close and snatch up the crumbs. That’s the real jackpot."
Woo Seung-tae snickered to himself, then fixed Song Tan with a steady gaze.
"And you helped me a lot, too. You asked for more support for our team on purpose. I know even if you think I don’t. I’m grateful enough."
Their glasses met again.
"So don’t worry about me. You go fly higher. So high I couldn’t even grab your tail if I wanted to. Honestly, I think that would make me feel better."
"Higher than this? No. Right now, this is perfect."
"What a heartless bastard. You never say you can’t do something, do you? Here, take a drink from a senior whose blood is still boiling."
"Yes, sir."
"If you make it big later, don’t forget me. What’s the point of being on the same class if you don’t help each other out a little?"
"You too, hyung. If I ever have a hard time, you have to be the first one to help me."
"You say the most obvious things with a straight face."
Feeling awkward for no good reason, Woo Seung-tae got to his feet.
"I’m going to the bathroom, so don’t get cheap and drink without me."
"Got it."
Song Tan watched his back as he opened the tavern door and stepped out.
I really do have good luck with people.
It was easy to say, but incredibly hard to truly feel that way.
That in itself meant Woo Seung-tae had a good heart and a broad mind.
Maybe the saying really is true: loving your fellow officers is loving your country.
Just as he was deciding he ought to look after his one and only classmate a little more...
Jiiing-
The phone he had left on the table rang loudly.
It was a number he didn’t recognize.
"Hello?"
"Yes, it is."
"Yes, that’s fine."
Song Tan flinched, then asked as if he had no idea what was being implied.
"I’m not sure what you mean."
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