Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Groin-Kicking Master, Section Chief Kim (2)
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“Ten minutes up.”
The man who’d been timing it said to the glasses-wearing man.
“Yeah? Whew, let’s take a break.”
Blood was dripping from the hand of the glasses-wearing man, who had precisely slapped Il-han’s face for ten straight minutes.
The glasses-wearing man, exhausted himself, slumped into a chair, panting heavily.
“Ah, my stamina’s not what it used to be. Ah, out of breath. My hand’s torn up too. Should’ve worn gloves before hitting him. Hey! Give me some tissue and take off this damn plastic bag!”
As the tattered plastic bag was removed, Il-han’s face emerged—even more ragged than the bag.
His bloodshot eyes, burst vessels staining them red, glared at the man. He still seemed conscious.
Not a single spot on his eyes, nose, or mouth was intact.
Il-han, struggling to straighten his back, finally vomited blood.
“Alright, now let’s start talking. No puking. Hey! What’re you doing? Wipe up the blood.”
The glasses-wearing man instructed someone to clean the blood Il-han had spewed, then asked,
“So, what’re you planning to do with the zombies you catch? Cuff ’em for a crime scene reenactment?”
Il-han couldn’t properly answer, still straining to straighten his back.
The glasses-wearing man bent down to peer into Il-han’s face and said,
“Hey! Let him go. Let’s see what he’s squirming for.”
At the glasses-wearing man’s words, Il-han’s arms were freed.
Gripping the chair with both hands, he pulled himself back against the seat, finally managing to straighten up.
His legs, drained of strength, trembled nonstop.
“Oho, trying to stand tall for the conversation, eh? Ah, cool! So cool! A real man! Hahaha.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Il-han barely managed through his swollen lips.
Each word carried the metallic stench of blood from his mouth.
“You should’ve given the right signals and stopped. Not like you’re some lone ranger of justice. Why didn’t you just do as you were told?”
The glasses-wearing man pulled out a tissue and wiped the blood from Il-han’s mouth.
“Ah, look at this blood! Hurts like hell, right? So stay sharp and survive. This is the jungle. Jungle! Inspector, you think you’re doing what’s right for the citizens? But nah. You’re just a beat cop catching petty crooks. Beat cop. Justice isn’t for beat cop level.”
His tone was soft, but his words were rough.
“Our NIS? Average 45 deaths a year. Didn’t know that? Cops get killed chasing thieves like idiots, and the media makes a fuss about line-of-duty deaths. Us? Forty-five a year, no recognition, no one knows.”
“So what?”
“So what? No informal talk… anyway! Why do we die silently in the shadows without recognition? All to protect the nation and the people.”
“Got a grudge against the police?”
“Told you no informal talk.”
The glasses-wearing man’s fist struck Il-han’s mouth dead-on.
“Gah!”
“Exactly for that. Anyway, while you’re chasing thieves and taking backroom cash at room salons! We’re sacrificing our lives for the nation. Ah, sure, some idiots bootlick power. Hahaha.”
As the glasses-wearing man finished, Il-han barely pried his mouth open to speak.
Blood trickled from his gaping mouth.
“Never.”
“What? Never what?”
Not grasping Il-han’s short words, the glasses-wearing man asked back.
“Never took bribe money, you bastard.”
Slap!
The glasses-wearing man backhanded Il-han just as he barely opened his mouth to speak.
Il-han’s head snapped limply to the side, splattering blood on the chest of the man sitting to his left.
“Ah, damn! Gross.”
The left-side man wiped the splattered blood and smacked Il-han’s head.
The glasses-wearing man grinned and continued,
“Ah, forgot we took off the plastic bag before slapping. Oops.”
Il-han’s lips had burst, his face a bloody mess.
“So, don’t answer questions we didn’t ask. Whether you take bribes or not isn’t our business or important. And I told you my age? No informal talk. Do it again, and the bag goes back on. Got it?”
The glasses-wearing man wiped the blood from his own hand, then addressed the man to Il-han’s left.
“Hey! Doesn’t the inspector look just like that zombie we beat down earlier? Hahaha.”
“Blood everywhere, flesh torn up—total zombie vibe. Hahaha.”
The left-side man chimed in, mocking Il-han.
The glasses-wearing man laughed for a while, then said to Il-han,
“Inspector, you’ve got a good nose. Check this out. See? I usually pack a Desert Eagle, but ran out of ammo mid-fight, switched to this revolver. See? Two rounds left. Guess who I shot? Zombies. Zombies!”
The glasses-wearing man pulled his gun and shoved it under Il-han’s nose.
“We’re fighting tooth and nail for the nation here. Can’t have you inspectors getting in the way. You beat cops just round up the cult weirdos as ordered and get your promotions.”
Il-han’s bloodshot eyes blazed.
“We’ll protect the nation and people, so butt out and don’t interfere. Understand?”
“Fellow civil servants, threatening and beating cops—you think you’ll get away with it?”
As Il-han stammered out his words, the glasses-wearing man snapped sharply,
“Hey! Grab him! Bag on! Inspector still hasn’t learned.”
* * *
Il-han thought he’d die if the beating continued, but the glasses-wearing man said,
“Take off the bag and let him loose.”
At his order, the tattered plastic bag was removed, and his arms freed.
Seeing Il-han’s swollen face revealed, the man clicked his tongue.
“Tsk tsk, what a mess. Look at this.”
Through the car window, Il-han spotted the main gate of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
Close enough to yell and be heard, but he lacked the strength or confidence.
The thought circled his mind: he might die here at this man’s hands today.
“Should’ve played nice when you had the chance. Now, let’s start over. I ask the questions.”
A one-sided talk began, no questions allowed from Il-han.
“You still planning to investigate the Daesung University Hospital case?”
Il-han answered without hesitation.
“Yeah. Gotta catch the guilty. That’s my job.”
His voice was small and shaky, but his resolve seemed firm.
The glasses-wearing man smirked at the answer, as if it was laughable.
“Job, huh. Hey! Got a fresh plastic bag? Grab some work gloves from the console box. Hand hurts.”
A new plastic bag was slipped over Il-han’s head at his words.
Donning the work gloves handed to him, the glasses-wearing man mocked,
“Didn’t they say study hard to get into the police academy? You’re pretty dumb, Inspector. Obey orders from above, bark on cue, get promotions, rise high. No need to die pathetically here.”
No sooner had he finished than his shoe slammed into Il-han’s groin.
Caught off guard, Il-han couldn’t even scream, just gurgled in agony, doubling over and writhing.
As his head dropped, the glasses-wearing man kicked it like a soccer ball.
Il-han’s body arched back, lifting slightly off the chair.
The impact tore the plastic bag from his head, exposing his face.
The glasses-wearing man grabbed Il-han’s shoulders and asked lowly,
“Asking again. You still investigating?”
Il-han, eyes half-shut from swollen lids, strained to find him, mumbling through mangled speech,
“Gotta keep investigating. Of course. And nab you bastards too.”
The glasses-wearing man laughed in disbelief.
“Hahaha. Ah, this guy. Hahaha.”
His laughter grew, soon joined by the others in the car.
Il-han figured it was over and stared out the window.
No strength to yell, and the once-close police gate now seemed impossibly distant.
He resolved himself, mustered strength to lift his head, and straightened up.
As Il-han raised his head, the glasses-wearing man whispered in his ear,
“Then check the convenience store CCTV. We didn’t collect that one.”
Il-han looked at him in shock, and the man smiled.
“What’re you waiting for? Gotta drop the inspector at the hospital before he loses his manhood.”
“Okay! Hospital it is. Hahaha.”
The driver laughed and started the car.
As they pulled away, the glasses-wearing man lit a cigarette, reassuring Il-han.
“Tech’s advanced these days—penis implants are a thing. No worries. They chop off the guy symbol, jam a solid core at the base, sleeve the cut part over it, stitch tight with needles. Good as new. Hahaha.”
The man was utterly inscrutable.
* * *
Late that night, Na-rae, alerted by the ER, came looking for Il-han.
His police academy classmate, she gasped at his battered, ragged state and asked,
“What happened? Where’d you get beat? Doc said one spot took extra damage, nearly dangerous. Where? Eyes? Head? Chest?”
“Don’t know! Shut up and check my phone.”
The call recipient Il-han named was unexpectedly Sergeant Han Han-su.
Low rank but veteran detective, Il-han’s partner.
“It’s Eun Na-rae. Il-han wants the sergeant. One sec.”
Na-rae gave a quick greeting and held the phone to Il-han’s face.
“Hyung-nim, it’s Il-han. Calling for a favor.”
His speech was slurred over the phone Na-rae held.
Mouth torn inside, swollen tongue making it impossible.
Hearing the unusual voice, Sergeant Han asked,
—You okay? What’s with your voice?
“Hard to explain now. Did we check the Daesung University Hospital main building, first floor convenience store CCTV?”
He pushed on with slurred words.
Breathy gasps mixed in, hard to listen to.
Somehow understanding, Sergeant Han replied,
—NIS guys took all hospital footage. Don’t think we secured any separate. If you’re gonna talk weird, text! Why groan like that?
“Got reasons to groan. Anyway, hyung-nim, go grab that convenience store CCTV now.”
Still gasping, slurring through.
—Boss’ll hate if I dig there. Whatever, I’ll get it. Where you at?
“Jongno Hospital ER. Right away, please. And me and Eun Na-rae? Nothing there.”
—ER? Be right there. Not curious about you and reporter Eun.
Daesung University Hospital still closed, so if NIS skipped it, the CCTV might remain.
Il-han wondered what they wanted him to see, beating him to this state.
‘I’ll watch every frame! Just you wait, four-eyes.’
The glasses man only mentioned the footage after Il-han repeatedly vowed to keep investigating, no matter the pressure.
Seemed he wanted Il-han to push on unyieldingly.
* * *
Sergeant Han arrived at Il-han’s regular ward, moved from ER late afternoon.
He’d secured the requested CCTV.
Gazing down at Il-han’s wrecked face, Sergeant Han asked,
“Who beat you like this?”
“Four-eyes.”
“Four-eyes? Who? Where?”
“Our company main gate.”
Cops called their precincts or HQ “company,” chiefs “CEO.”
“Beat at the main gate? Run next time, idiot.”
“Not that easy. Got what I asked for?”
Il-han barely sat up in bed to ask.
“Here. How’d you know it was still there? Everyone thought NIS took it all.”
Sergeant Han handed over a tablet PC.
Video loaded on it, apparently.
“Four-eyes who beat me told me. NIS section chief. Where’s the original?”
Taking the tablet, Il-han asked again.
“In my car. You know what’s on it?”
Sergeant Han glanced around cautiously and whispered.
Seemed worried about eyes on them.
Matching the tone, Il-han whispered back,
“What’s on it?”
Sergeant Han leaned closer and murmured,
“Zombie horde and people beating them down… that reporter and the woman in hanbok. Don’t watch here—somewhere quiet. When you checking out?”
Sergeant Han’s face was deadly serious.
“Reporter Kim Byung-su? Checking out today.”
Not discharge-ready, but Il-han’s expression was resolute.