Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Groin-Kicking Master, Manager Kim (1)
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“Ah, Reporter Kim, I heard you went through hell at Daesung Hospital?”
“Ah, yeah! More importantly, are Lucifer and Jijang not here?”
Byung-su, who had come to the motel where Lucifer and Jijang had been staying, hurriedly asked the motel owner, who greeted him warmly, about their whereabouts.
“Those two said they were investigating the ghost gate discovered at the meadow garden a while back, stayed there for a few days, then suddenly bid farewell, saying they could return to hell through it.”
“What? Why would they go to hell on purpose?”
“They said hell was where they belonged, and they were off to cut off Beelzebub’s head. Something about having to protect Gaia’s forest and the World Tree……”
“No, that’s crazy. Ah… damn.”
“I even tried to talk them out of going to hell, but… anyway, they haven’t come back since. Those guys aren’t right in the head, are they? So, what brings you here?”
The motel owner asked, half-believing, half-doubting what Lucifer and Jijang had said.
“The Daesung Hospital disaster… that evil spirit Emel… Ah, no. I just need those two’s power… This is a real mess.”
“Hmm, I don’t know what’s going on, but you need some muscle, huh? I may be old, but I used to be a big deal back in the day. Trust me. I’ll help you out.”
The motel owner straightened his back, spoke confidently, and led the way out of the motel.
“Hey! Boss! Motel owner! Sir! You don’t have to……”
Byung-su, startled, urgently called out to stop the motel owner.
“What? You said you needed help, right? I may not look it, but I was nationwide famous. I was Yong-pal-i, the enforcer for the Samgeori Gang. They called me Samryong-i.”
“Ah, in that case, help me find someone. I think my friend Sang-in knows who’s behind this incident. Start with his place. You’re good at finding people, right?”
Thinking a former nationwide gangster might be useful for tracking someone down, Byung-su asked.
“Finding people and beating them up—that was my job. There was no one I couldn’t find, so don’t worry. Hahaha.”
The motel owner replied with a bright smile.
* * *
By the time Byung-su and the motel owner arrived at psychic researcher Hong Sang-in’s house, Sang-in had already packed a light bag and left.
The motel owner, who had entered through the veranda window and come back out, asked Byung-su.
“Oof, my back. He’s not here. No idea where else he might’ve gone? He’s not picking up his phone? Isn’t he your friend?”
Byung-su, looking exhausted, answered the motel owner’s questions.
“Sang-in may be a friend, but he’s got no loyalty… I’m not family—how would I know where he’d go if he’s not home? We’re not the cops. Ah! And you can’t just break into people’s houses like that.”
At Byung-su’s scolding, the motel owner gave an awkward smile and replied.
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s head back for today. If I put my guys on it, finding him will be a piece of cake. Drop me off up ahead—I’ll grab a taxi.”
Feeling sorry, Byung-su said as he drove.
“You’ve gone through all this trouble for me, so let me at least drive you back to the motel. Can’t just send you off after all that. Let’s go.”
When they arrived at the motel, the owner pulled out his business card wallet and handed Byung-su one card.
Byung-su looked at it—it was a gold-embossed business card.
“Gold?”
“Yeah, it’s real gold. I don’t give them to just anyone. Since I owe Lucifer one, and if you ever need muscle, definitely call me. I’ll tell my underlings to put out the word on this Sang-in guy.”
The motel owner’s serious expression made him seem surprisingly reliable.
But Byung-su was more interested in the gold business card than the owner’s words.
“Wow! This is really gold? Boss, you must be richer than you look. Let’s be good friends from now on.”
Beaming at Byung-su’s words, the motel owner started bragging.
“I’ve got quite a bit stashed away. More than most people could imagine. Living with Lucifer for those few months really paid off. Lately, my hobby’s been collecting gold… Heh heh.”
Byung-su, who had been admiring the card, carefully pocketed it and extended his hand to the motel owner again.
“Boss—no, sir. Can I have a few more cards? Might come in handy somewhere.”
As Byung-su made his request, the motel owner opened the car door to get out and said.
“Ah… I’m not exactly rolling in it. Drive safe.”
Thinking the motel owner was stingy in a way that didn’t match his age or build, Byung-su turned the car around to leave. The sun was setting, and darkness was slowly settling in.
* * *
“Inspector Yoon Il-han!”
It was past midnight when someone called out to Il-han as he left the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
Il-han quickly scanned the man blocking his path.
He was in his mid-forties, average height.
At a glance, you could tell he wore high-end glasses, a luxury watch, and an expensive suit.
“Gunpowder smell on his clothes. He’s someone who shoots guns. Judging by the scent, it’s been less than an hour since he fired.”
“Hey, I can hear you!”
The man stared at Il-han, who was sniffing and muttering, with a look of disbelief.
Only then did Il-han think to himself.
‘What kind of guy is he? Not military—suit and watch are too fancy for that. Definitely not police. High-end suit… then!’
“Why’s NIS sending someone after me? And at this late hour……”
The man flinched at Il-han’s sharp question.
“Whoa! Impressive. How’d you know I’m NIS? You’re the real deal.”
As the man readily admitted it, Il-han puffed up with pride.
With a slight smile, he explained his deduction.
“A guy in his mid-forties wearing a luxury watch, luxury glasses, luxury suit, reeking of gunpowder, showing up at a police station late at night—who else but NIS? Not some hitman, I assume.”
It was a smug tone.
The man nodded repeatedly in admiration at Il-han’s explanation.
“Wow! I’m forty-five this year. My wife bought all this online—cheap brands, not designer. With three kids, I can’t afford luxury……”
“Nailed the age. The gunpowder?”
“Ah! That nose is unreal. I wore this suit for shooting practice a month ago. Man, dry cleaning and you still smell it? Better than a drug dog.”
The man praised Il-han, comparing him to a dog.
Il-han felt awkwardly embarrassed by the man’s banter.
‘Embarrassing, but I got it right anyway.’
“Skip the drug dog talk. Why are you here?”
Il-han changed the subject with a question.
He had a hunch, but wanted confirmation from the man’s mouth.
“You’re investigating the Daesung University Hospital case, right? I’ve been waiting to cooperate on that. Won’t take long—let’s talk in my car.”
With a friendly smile, he pointed to a car parked on the roadside.
It was a black van with heavily tinted windows.
Definitely not a commuter vehicle.
‘This model doesn’t come in black. Custom paint job. Gotta be an ops vehicle! Who else is inside?’
“Custom paint, huh? Going for intimidation with the black? Or something secretive inside?”
Il-han pointed at the man’s van, lowering his voice.
He showed no fear whatsoever.
“Oh, that? My brother-in-law’s old ride—I took it over for commuting. With all my kids, I need something big on weekends. It’s black from the factory. He just tinted the windows pitch black, but it’s too dark at night—annoying.”
The man bantered on.
Il-han was starting to find the guy uncomfortable.
* * *
‘Let’s hear what he has to say.’
Il-han didn’t trust the man, but moved toward the van to find out.
As he followed the man to the black van, the rear door opened, and two burly men got out.
Through the open door, he glimpsed two more men in black suits in the front seats.
The ones from the back were also in black suits and silently stood behind Il-han.
Il-han found their positioning suspicious.
They reeked of gunpowder too.
Il-han snarked at the glasses-wearing man.
“Bigger on the inside than I thought? Lots of passengers.”
“They were heading home with me and stuck around so I wouldn’t be lonely. Don’t mind them—hop in.”
Even at Il-han’s jab, the man kept bantering.
He said not to mind, but with guys behind him, how could he not?
‘Smooth talker. Glasses guy seems like the boss. Fine, play along and get in.’
Il-han ducked in and sat where the driver’s seat and backrest met. The glasses man sat across from him.
A burly guy sat next to Il-han.
As he scooted over, the side door opened from the right, and another man sat on his other side.
“Why cram in there? Sit next to me.”
The glasses man belatedly offered his side to the men who had sat next to Il-han.
The men just smiled, no movement.
The atmosphere was off.
Il-han glanced at the men on either side and grumbled at the glasses man.
“Shouldn’t you at least show a business card or ID?”
“Ah, yeah, probably. But here’s the thing—we’re black agents. NIS law specifically says no cards or IDs. First time meeting NIS? Aside from a few white agents, we don’t hand out cards.”
“Fine. What do I call you?”
“Just call me Manager Kim, nice and casual. Not really a Kim, though. If I’m impersonating an NIS agent, you cops can just arrest me, Inspector.”
The man was still talkative.
‘Is this the Manager Kim that Reporter Kim Byung-su mentioned?’
Il-han, distrusting the man, looked out the window.
The Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency’s main gate was visible.
Lots of them, but what could happen right in front of the station?
“What do you want to tell me?”
He asked a bit curtly on purpose.
At Il-han’s question, the man nodded silently and said curtly to the men on either side.
“Grab him!”
At the glasses man’s order, the men on both sides seized Il-han’s arms tightly.
The man in the front passenger seat turned and threw a black plastic bag over Il-han’s head.
At the sudden action, Il-han tried to yank his arms free, but a kick from the glasses man bent his waist.
“Ugh……”
It felt like a solar plexus hit—hard to breathe.
In the cramped, low-ceilinged van, the kick was precise, like he’d done this before.
“Ah, meant to go for the groin but hit the gut. Hey! Grab him tight again! Sitting down, it’s hard to land right.”
At the glasses man’s words about kicking his groin, Il-han resisted amid the pain with his own kicks.
As Il-han fought back, the glasses man stomped his shoe heel into Il-han’s thigh.
“Hng!”
The pain choked off even a proper scream.
Il-han hunched to defend.
As his head came forward, the glasses man’s knee smashed into his face.
The impact snapped his head back and straightened his waist.
The glasses man’s shoe then perfectly soccer-kicked Il-han’s groin like a ball.
“Gah!”
Even in his awkward seated position, the kick’s power was immense.
Il-han’s body, caught by the man, lifted slightly off the seat.
“Don’t resist. Let’s get this over with and talk.”
The glasses man’s polite tone oddly fit the situation.
With Il-han too pained to scream, the man chopped the edge of his hand into Il-han’s throat.
He couldn’t resist, only managing a short gag.
Il-han’s head fully tilted back, leaving his face exposed.
It was the work of a beating specialist.
“Clench your teeth. Don’t bite your tongue. Squeeze!”
No sooner had the glasses man finished than a fist slammed into Il-han’s face.
Nose and mouth burst, splattering blood into the plastic bag.
“Here we go again. Clench!”
The glasses man’s fist flew at Il-han’s face once more.
Il-han could only gag briefly.
His mind was blank white—no thought of resistance.
“Take ten minutes of this, then we talk. Hey! Time it!”