The Story of How the Heist That Was Meant to Be Pulled Got Pulled on Instead
Mun Jeong-pal gathered his junior gang members at the establishment he managed.
"This is our chance. We make a deep impression on Big Brother. You can do this. No, listen carefully—no matter what happens, we have to pull this off."
Watching the fiercely solemn Mun Jeong-pal standing there alone in his own dramatic little world, the others scratched their heads.
"But even so, he’s technically a detective, right? Would he really just take money if we shoved it at him?"
"Then we make him take it. By any means necessary."
"How, exactly?"
"That’s for you idiots to work out with the brains God gave you! Do you think I called you here to play cards, huh!?"
In the end, one of the scolded underlings fell back with an awkward expression.
"How much should we offer him?"
"At the very least, five bills."
"Would fifty thousand won do?"
"Five hundred, you bastard. Five hundred! What kind of pocket money is fifty thousand won? Do you think we’re handing out New Year’s money?"
He had called them together to put their heads on the table, and instead he only felt his temper rising higher. Mun Jeong-pal thumped his chest in frustration.
Then the shortest man in the group claimed the floor.
"That rookie cop. Didn’t you say he was twenty-five this year?"
"That’s what I heard."
"Then he’s the same age as my youngest brother. At that age, guys are either drowning in student loans or buying cars on full installment plans. And since he’s not from Annam, he’s probably living alone too. No way he can handle monthly rent, so he must be living on a jeonse loan."
Mun Jeong-pal’s expression brightened a little.
"Hooh. Jun-pil, huh? No wonder. You’re the only one here with a head on your shoulders. So?"
"If he’s twenty-five, he’s only been a cop for a year or two at most. Which means his after-tax salary is probably not even three million won."
"Good. That’s what I’m talking about."
Another gang member, irritated by the sight of one man showing off alone, tried to sound knowledgeable.
"After tax means they split it into three payments, right? So he gets a hundred each time?"
"..............."
A cold silence fell.
Mun Jeong-pal looked at the one who had spoken.
"You don’t know what after tax means, do you?"
"No, boss, it’s not like that."
"Then what does it mean?"
"Three times… paid afterward…"
"From this second on, shut your damn mouth before I blow your head off."
"Sorry."
Rubbing his eyelids once, Mun Jeong-pal waved a hand as if to say, go on.
"Student loans, jeonse loans, all those utility bills and whatever else—after all that, he won’t have even five hundred thousand won left. That’s the reality for most men in their twenties."
"So?"
"If you shove money at him out of the blue, chances are the bastard’ll refuse at first just because he’s a cop. He’ll be drooling over it, though."
"Get to the point."
"We make a situation where he can accept it naturally without any suspicion. To do that, we have to get the cop standing next to him out of the way first."
Among the Annam Family Alliance, Lee Joo-seok was known as the mad cop.
"How do we get rid of him?"
"That rookie detective… the one named Song Tan or Seok Tan or whatever. Can we get his contact information?"
"With a couple of hops, probably."
"Then we call him directly. Say we think we saw a wanted fugitive."
"A wanted fugitive?"
"Boss, how close are you with Brother Deok-bae?"
The skin around Mun Jeong-pal’s eyes twitched.
Among his acquaintances, there was a man named Hwang Deok-bae who was wanted on fraud charges.
"You bastard, don’t tell me…?"
"A sloppy bait only makes people more suspicious. If you’re going to toss out prey, you have to toss it out properly."
"Damn it. I’ve known Deok-bae for years."
"He’s going to get caught sooner or later anyway. Might as well send him off a day early. It’s not like he’ll even know we were the ones who tipped them off."
By now, Mun Jeong-pal was fully hooked. He stroked his chin.
"I’ve been to the police station a few times, haven’t I? If it’s just checking CCTV, he’ll definitely handle it alone. We call him out like that, toss him a morsel, win him over, and then give him a little nudge. Just enough to test the water."
"And if he doesn’t take the money?"
"Heh. For a moment he might act like he doesn’t know anything, but when he gets home he’ll start seeing bundles of cash dancing before his eyes and call back. I guarantee it. Poor bastards with no money are all the same."
At the subordinate’s confident declaration, Mun Jeong-pal burst out laughing.
"Puhahaha, that’s right! Our Jun-pil. What would this place do without you, huh? Come on! Everybody, give Jun-pil a hand!"
Clap clap clap clap—
The cheer, empty of all soul, echoed through the large room.
"Okay. Jun-pil, take responsibility and see this through. I’ll get the detective’s number for you."
"Yes, boss. Leave it to me."
As expected, confidence that failure was impossible flowed from his face too.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Ji-iing—
Song Tan looked down at his phone. It was a call from an unknown number.
"Song Tan, patrol officer."
"You’re Detective Song from Annam West, right?"
"That’s correct."
"The thing is, I happened to see a wanted poster, and the Hwang Deok-bae on it—well, I think he may have come to our shop."
"How did you get my number?"
"Ah, well, I kept the business card you gave me last time, when you said to call if I ever saw a pickpocket."
"Where should I come?"
"It’s Renaissance Karaoke in Seongrak-dong. I’m not completely sure, so I’d appreciate it if you could take a look at the CCTV, Detective."
"Understood."
After the call ended, Lee Joo-seok came over and asked, "What was that about?"
Song Tan pointed at the wanted notice posted on the wall with a finger.
"He says he thinks Hwang Deok-bae came by his place and wants me to check."
"Hwang Deok-bae? Ah, that sleazy little fly-by-night bastard? We’ve got to catch him."
Nodding, Lee Joo-seok gathered his things.
"Then we’ll have to split up today. I’m going to meet a witness about the fire in Wolhyang-dong, so you take care of your business and head home when you’re done."
"Understood, Senior."
"Yeah. Good work."
Lee Joo-seok was about to stride off when he hesitated and turned back.
"Hey, but there aren’t any official cars left. What are you going to do?"
Song Tan answered lightly, "Then I’ll just take my own car today."
"Damn it. How the hell does a giant police station only have eleven official cars? And how many cops are there? Christ. It makes my blood boil."
Once his partner had gone, Song Tan gathered his things and left the office as well.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Renaissance Karaoke in Seongrak-dong.
With his eyes narrowed, Song Tan studied the CCTV footage closely.
"What do you think? Our CCTV isn’t bad, quality-wise."
After replaying it a few more times, Song Tan nodded.
"I think it’s him. Hwang Deok-bae."
At that, the karaoke owner—or rather, Lee Jun-pil—looked genuinely startled.
"Really? Wow! I wasn’t sure, but it actually is him."
"Does he come here often?"
"Not often. He comes whenever people start forgetting about him. Ah—just a moment."
Lee Jun-pil ran to the counter and returned with a thick document envelope.
"Inside there’s the card payment history for what he swiped and the phone number he used to make reservations. I prepared it in advance, thinking the detective would come."
Song Tan opened the envelope slightly and tilted his head.
"I don’t think that’s all that’s in here."
"I also tucked a little bit of my heart in there."
"Your heart?"
"Don’t you remember? Six months ago, there was that lowlife pickpocket working this neighborhood. You were the one who caught him, weren’t you?"
"And?"
"That son of a—ah, sorry. The money that bastard ripped off from me added up to more than thirty million won. And the amounts he demanded kept getting bigger, too. If you hadn’t caught him, I would’ve shut this place down ages ago. So this is just my way of showing a little gratitude. Haha."
Song Tan took the yellow bills from the envelope and counted them.
"It’s only one million won. Think of it as a small token of appreciation. Enough to keep your body in shape."
Song Tan nodded and put the money back into the envelope, then handed it to Lee Jun-pil.
"I won’t be accepting this."
Lee Jun-pil immediately put on a wounded face.
"If you refuse it like that, I’m really going to be hurt. Every business owner around Seongrak-dong knows how much cleaner the area became thanks to you, Detective. This really is just a small token of gratitude."
"Is it truly pure good will?"
For an instant, Lee Jun-pil flinched, then nodded hard.
"Of course it is. You’re making it hard for me. I can’t exactly take my heart out and show it to you."
Song Tan watched him tap his chest, then abruptly pulled out a notebook.
He wrote something down, tore out the page, and handed it over.
Hanseong Bank 140-008-281838
"If possible, I’d like your heart to be a little bigger."
Lee Jun-pil stared blankly at the paper in his hand.
A moment later, the corners of his mouth began to rise.
Fuck, what the hell is this guy? He meant bank transfer instead of cash?
Seeing that things had actually worked out better than expected, Lee Jun-pil let out a silent cheer inside.
You’d like my heart to be bigger? This bastard’s way more devious than he looks.
Keeping his face pleasant, Lee Jun-pil nodded.
"At last, Detective, you understand my sincerity."
Suppressing his grin, Lee Jun-pil hurriedly opened his banking app.
Since it’s come to this, let’s not do one million—let’s make it a bold two million.
The bigger the amount, the thicker the leash became. He hadn’t gotten approval from Mun Jeong-pal, but there was a far better chance of getting praised for this than scolded.
In case the detective changed his mind, Lee Jun-pil hurried through the transfer.
Oh? So this bastard came prepared after all? Even set up a shell company, judging by that.
With a faint snort, Lee Jun-pil held up his phone screen.
"See? I sent you two nice, big bills. Haha. I’ll be counting on you in the future as well."
Song Tan gave him a calm thumbs-up as Lee Jun-pil bobbed his head repeatedly.
"You’ve done something truly good. It’ll be used well for the children at the orphanage."
"What? Orpha—n…age?"
Sensing something off, Lee Jun-pil raised his phone and searched for “Annam Raphael's House.”
In an instant, all the blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as paper.
I'm screwed, fuck…
A sharp alarm blared in Lee Jun-pil’s head.
The money he had taken as the setup fee was exactly one million won. The other one million had come from the business’s own revenue.
He knew better than to touch that carelessly. If he did, a disaster would follow.
He didn’t know just how sensitive Mun Jeong-pal was about every single won he spent, and that realization left his mind going blank for a second.
"Then I’ll be on my way."
Song Tan turned without a shred of hesitation, and Lee Jun-pil, who had been standing there in a daze, jerked upright and grabbed him.
"D-Detective!"
Song Tan looked back in confusion, and Lee Jun-pil’s lips trembled.
I can’t exactly ask for a refund now. I’m going insane. Fuck.
Whimpering like a dog with something stuck in it, Lee Jun-pil seemed to make up his mind and lowered his voice.
"However you look at it, this isn’t right."
"What isn’t?"
Looking at Song Tan’s indifferent gaze, Lee Jun-pil gritted his teeth.
"You are issuing a donation receipt here… right?"
With tears welling in his eyes, he had no choice but to search for a way to get hit less hard.