Too Many of Those, You Say?
“There are that many of them?”
The briefing room of the Gyeonggi Northern Provincial Police Agency.
The space was lit bright from ceiling lights, and cameras mounted on tripods stood in a row, while reporters with laptops open stared straight ahead.
When the clock struck the hour, the doors opened, and the chief of the provincial violent crimes unit stepped up to the podium with a hard expression.
He took a breath at the microphone, then began. “Regarding the serial murders targeting homeless people in the northern and southern parts of Gyeonggi, we officially announce that the suspect, Kim Chung-gon, confessed to all of his crimes yesterday afternoon. Kim Chung-gon has admitted to a total of four murders and one attempted murder, and the investigation into additional offenses is currently ongoing.”
Click! Click! Click!
The sound of camera shutters burst out like fireworks.
Reporters’ hands moved furiously.
“Please explain how the confession came about!”
“Is there any possibility he’ll claim diminished mental capacity?”
Questions poured in, but the chief kept speaking calmly, eyes lowered to the prepared script.
“The suspect refused food and sleep, and pretended to be suffering from delusions, but after the lead investigator’s relentless questioning, he ultimately confessed to everything. Ah, and I should emphasize once again here that the detectives from Annam Police Station’s Violent Crimes Team 1 played a major role in the arrest.”
At that, the reporters’ hands became even more frantic.
“So it wasn’t the provincial office that caught the suspect, but a local station?”
The chief hesitated, then nodded with the air of a man who had given up resisting.
“Yes. The front-line detectives at Annam Station identified the suspect after weeks of surveillance, then arrested Kim Chung-gon in the act when he attempted to commit another crime. Thanks to them, no one died in Annam.”
The murmuring in the room swelled even louder.
Afterward, articles began pouring out one after another.
And at the end of the articles, this was written:
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Annam Police Station, Violent Crimes Team 1 office.
The detectives stared in amazement at the Gyeonggi Northern Agency chief on the TV screen, still delivering his briefing.
“Did that old boy have a bad breakfast or something? Why’s he flat-out mentioning Annam Station like that?”
“When he was stealing all the credit, when the hell did he suddenly grow a conscience?”
“Probably felt his conscience start stabbing him late. Anyway, whatever. Congratulations! Our Team 1’s proud pair of lunatics.”
The actual two people being praised were sitting off to one side, silently staring at the monitor as if this had nothing to do with them.
Song Tan turned his head and raised a quiet objection. “Why am I a lunatic too?”
“You little punk, if you walk around with a lunatic for a mentor, then you’re a lunatic apprentice too.”
“Ah… is that how it works?”
When Song Tan stole a look at him, Lee Joo-seok scowled.
“What’s with that face? You don’t like it?”
“Not at all.”
Song Tan quickly smoothed his expression and gave a faint smile.
Watching the two trade remarks like a comedy routine, the other detectives sent them congratulations mixed with envy.
“I’m jealous, man, I’m seriously jealous. Special promotion, huh? Joo-ttol, you’re getting your demotion fixed. And our baby here—let’s see… huh. You’re already going to make detective?”
“Hold on. Didn’t you get promoted to detective as a special promotion too?”
“Right! He got it right after finishing probation.”
“And now he’s getting sergeant in less than two years? At only twenty-five?”
“Unbelievable…”
As envious eyes gathered on him, Song Tan grew awkward and began hammering pointlessly at the keyboard.
Noticing his subordinate’s discomfort, Lee Joo-seok clicked his tongue.
“Ah, right. I forgot we were supposed to go get a witness statement today.”
He shot up from his seat and glanced at Song Tan.
“What’re you standing around for, punk? We’re late!”
“Ah, yes.”
Lee Joo-seok rushed out in a fluster, and Song Tan quietly followed after him.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The rooftop smoking area.
Patches on the concrete floor were stained where rainwater had dried and left marks behind.
“Haa, finally, I can breathe.”
Leaning against the railing, Lee Joo-seok looked out ahead and let out a long sigh.
It was already after quitting time, and the headlights on the road below drifted by slowly.
Hiss—
He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then slowly exhaled the smoke.
“What the hell did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“That sudden change of attitude from the provincial office. It’s got to be because of you.”
“No way. Why would I matter that much?”
“Do I look stupid to you? They summon you over there, and the next day they’re holding a press conference saying Kim Chung-gon confessed. That means you must have done something to make him open his mouth. And in return, you probably cut some sort of deal with the chief.”
Instead of answering, Song Tan looked down over the railing.
Patrol cars parked in the police station lot rolled forward, their sirens wailing.
Watching them closely, Lee Joo-seok muttered, “You really are a strange bastard. Everyone else goes around desperate to brag about how great they are, so why the hell are you so tight-lipped?”
“I’m not that impressive. That’s all.”
“Don’t ever say something like that as a joke out in the world. If you don’t want to get cursed out to hell and back.”
“That’s why I usually try to keep my mouth shut.”
“You sure do like talking back, don’t you? Pisses me off.”
“My respected mentor taught me that. When you go in hard, you have to go in all the way.”
“Whoever taught you, they really did a thorough job.”
Lee Joo-seok let out a short laugh and spoke as if it were nothing. “Honestly, I was going to call every journalist I know today and put on one hell of a knife dance. If it hadn’t been for you, the papers would’ve been full of headlines like, ‘Arrest Team Robbed of Special Promotion. Is This Fair?’ and ‘The Detective Who Caught Kim Chung-gon Is Furious.’”
“I figured something like that might happen, so I came back and dealt with it as fast as I could. If I’d been any later, it would’ve been a disaster.”
Lee Joo-seok took another drag in silence.
White smoke scattered into the night air.
“If I hadn’t met you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“Pardon?”
“Just talking to myself. Let’s go down.”
He ground out the cigarette in the ashtray and turned to leave, but then—
Click-clack, click-clack—
The sound of women’s heels, rarely heard on a rooftop, approached from behind.
A slender silhouette came closer, black coat hem fluttering in the breeze.
She had a tall, neat figure, her hair tied back tidily, and sharp features that were the very definition of a cold beauty.
It was Do Se-lin, a profiler from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
She glanced around the rooftop, then walked up to them naturally.
Every time her heels struck the concrete, the sound rang out faintly, click, click.
“Who’s that woman?”
Lee Joo-seok lit another cigarette and gave Do Se-lin a half-lidded stare.
But whether he looked or not, her eyes were fixed only on Song Tan.
“It’s nice to see you again. I said we’d meet again, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t think it would be the very next day.”
“I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I kept thinking about it, and I still couldn’t find an answer.”
“It’s not the kind of problem that has a simple answer.”
The two exchanged an unfathomable back-and-forth.
Tilting his head, Lee Joo-seok asked her, “And who the hell are you, barging in and acting like you know him?”
Without a word, she took a business card from her wallet and handed it to him.
Lee Joo-seok’s eye twitched as he looked at it.
“Seoul Metro Criminal Behavior Analysis Team… lieutenant?”
He looked faintly thrown off.
But Do Se-lin paid him no mind; her attention remained solely on Song Tan.
“You saw the news, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The special promotion should originally have gone to the two of you.”
“You came all the way here just to tell me that?”
“As if. I’ve got paperwork piled up like a mountain right now. I’m here to see Song Tan, Detective.”
“Hah.”
Lee Joo-seok snorted before he could help himself.
Some elite lieutenant from Seoul had come all this way just to meet one lowly detective.
“Why are you avoiding my calls?”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I had so much on my mind I forgot to call back.”
At the calm explanation, Do Se-lin’s eyes narrowed.
“No matter how many cases I went through, no matter how many papers I searched, I still couldn’t figure it out. How exactly did you get Kim Chung-gon to confess?”
“Weren’t you watching from the observation room?”
“That’s exactly why it’s driving me insane. I focused so hard my eyes were about to pop out, and I still couldn’t understand it.”
“What you saw was everything. I merely questioned him with complete sincerity, and Kim Chung-gon was persuaded to speak.”
Do Se-lin stepped one pace closer.
A faint citrus scent drifted through the air.
“Do you honestly think that makes sense?”
“What does it matter whether I think so? It’s the truth. Or if you prefer, you can go ask Kim Chung-gon yourself.”
Do Se-lin bit her red lip lightly.
Why wouldn’t she have gone to see him already?
But Kim Chung-gon’s mouth had remained tightly sealed, as if refusing to entertain any conversation at all.
“Haa…”
With a sigh, the wind shifted, and the hem of her coat fluttered.
Lee Joo-seok, who had been eavesdropping, roughly pieced together what was going on and curled the corners of his mouth.
“I can understand how you feel.”
At the sudden remark, Do Se-lin’s cold gaze turned toward him.
“That bastard—no, that Detective Song—walks into an interrogation room, and for some reason the criminals just spill everything. But don’t try to make sense of it. It’s better to just accept it. That’s from experience, so don’t brush it off.”
She slowly uncrossed her arms.
It was a habit she fell into unconsciously whenever something interested her.
“You mean this happens often?”
“All the time. People who don’t know better only pay attention to Detective Song’s investigative ability, but I’m with him every day, so I know the truth. The real thing is the suspect interrogation. I have no idea how he does it, though.”
Lee Joo-seok’s words seemed to give her a new certainty, and Do Se-lin’s eyes sparkled.
“How is that even possible?”
“Good grief, what exactly did you hear? I’m telling you, I don’t know. Didn’t you know either? Even while watching him up close.”
Apparently she had nothing to say to that, because Do Se-lin closed her mouth tightly.
“Ever since I was young, people told me I had unusually sharp instincts.”
At Song Tan’s low voice, both of them turned at once.
“I’d sense things like, this person is angry but actually frightened right now, or they’re hunched in on themselves but crave recognition more than anyone else, or their confidence has suddenly started curdling into arrogance. Stuff like that just came to me.”
Song Tan gave a small shrug.
“Kim Chung-gon was similar. On the surface he kept acting as if he’d reached some kind of enlightenment, spouting nonsense about salvation and reincarnation, but in the end he was just a criminal trapped in grotesque self-contradiction.”
Do Se-lin nodded in understanding.
The wind blew, and a few strands of her hair scattered.
“It was only difficult because the logic was wrapped in a heavy Buddhist tone. I merely pointed out the contradiction and the arrogance. In the first place, it was a false belief built like a sandcastle, so it collapsed in an instant.”
Do Se-lin’s gaze sharpened even more, like a researcher who had just found the key to a difficult problem.
“That’s truly all I have to say. I was just absurdly lucky, and luck doesn’t come around that often.”
“Well. We’ll see about that.”
Her eyes slowly sank, then rose again.
She looked like someone who had finished arranging her thoughts.
“I should get going. We’ll meet again.”
With her coat fluttering behind her, she turned away without hesitation.
Watching her go, Lee Joo-seok clicked his tongue.
“That woman was the profiler who handled Kim Chung-gon’s interview?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What the hell did you do over there?”
“Nothing much.”
“You did nothing, and she comes running all the way here looking like if you poked her she wouldn’t bleed?”
“I know. She’s certainly full of zeal.”
Leaning against the railing, Lee Joo-seok looked down.
Do Se-lin emerged from the main building and got into a red Porsche, and a moment later the car roared out of the police station.
“Be careful. I know women like that. Once they get fixated on something, they don’t see anything else.”
“There shouldn’t be any reason for us to get involved again, though.”
So Song Tan thought, rather casually.
And then, about three weeks later, an official notice arrived in the Annam Station detective division.
Document No.: Seoul Metro Criminal Analysis-2026-0316
To: Chief of Annam Police Station
(Via) / Chief of the Criminal Division / Team Leader of Violent Crimes Team 1
cc: Detective Song Tan, Violent Crimes Team 1
Subject: Request for criminal analysis support and temporary dispatch cooperation regarding a major violent crime case.
1. We wish your station continued prosperity.
2. The Criminal Analysis Team of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency is currently analyzing the connections between cases and reconstructing offender behavior patterns in relation to the series of violent crimes targeting homeless people.
Regarding the above case, Detective Song Tan of Violent Crimes Team 1 at your station has recently, in the course of resolving multiple violent crime cases, demonstrated outstanding ability in the following areas:
a. Psychological pressure on suspects and eliciting statements.
b. Intuitive, scene-based reconstruction of crimes.
c. Experience responding to irregular criminal patterns.
Accordingly, we request your active cooperation in temporarily dispatching Detective Song Tan for investigative collaboration and criminal analysis support.
And so Lee Joo-seok’s prediction came true.