Image Makeover
Dongdaemun-gu homeless shelter. Beom-seong, decked out in a white hygiene cap and apron, was ladling rice onto the homeless men's trays.
"Eat up, everyone. Stay strong."
The reporters snapped away relentlessly, capturing every moment without missing a beat.
For Beom-seong, who never lifted a finger for household chores, this was grueling work. Once the rice vat was scraped clean, he took a breather, pulled off his cap, and slipped behind the building.
He spotted Min-ho standing back there, watching everything closely, and rotated his wrist with a whine. "I think I've done a lifetime's worth of scooping here."
"How's it going? Tough, huh?"
"Ladling rice is fine, but those guys' stench was killing me. Thought I'd die. Wanted to stuff tissue up my nose."
"You don't know which photo'll make the papers. No grimacing—keep that kind smile going."
Smiling nonstop wasn't easy. He shook his head like a sulky kid. "How long do I have to keep this up?"
"Till you become Seoul mayor."
"What? You want me doing this till then?"
"Why? Can't handle it?"
"No, it's not that I can't... Just feels like I'm some clown forced to grin nonstop. That's all."
Time to ground him in reality. Min-ho dangled a motivator. "Want to take Dad's risky offer right now? Or walk the smooth path to Seoul mayor?"
To avoid offending Min-ho, Beom-seong flashed a fawning smile. "No need to ask twice, right? Uncle was just venting 'cause it's tough. Don't take it to heart."
"We'll head straight to the orphanage once we're done here."
"All day at this?"
"Endure a bit, and I'll tie a pretty ribbon on you and package you up nice."
The Seoul mayor plan was purely Min-ho's design. With their hands already joined, Beom-seong had no choice but to press on—which only deepened his reliance on Min-ho. To put it precisely, this was meticulous groundwork to turn Beom-seong into a puppet.
Why go to such lengths for an appointed position, not a public election? Simple: to package Beom-seong convincingly through the media. Print beaming photos of him volunteering, paired with feel-good articles no one could resist.
- JK Securities President Kang Beom-seong volunteers at Yongsan homeless shelter.
- Heart-wrenching reunion of separated families after 40 years.
Meanwhile, rival candidates got the opposite treatment: suspicion-laden stories, followed by grisly crime reports that bred disgust.
- Assemblyman Im Su-jong, floated as next Seoul mayor candidate, faces bribery allegations.
- Bongcheon-dong hatchet murder remains unsolved. Investigation in limbo.
At a glance, no big difference—but over time, the two camps' favorability ratings would diverge sharply. Beom-seong would shine as positive and capable; the others as corrupt and inept. Daily papers could engineer that gap. Subscribers would absorb Beom-seong's good image subconsciously. A classic case of getting soaked by a drizzle.
The pressure on the Blue House was already sufficient. Hand over objective polls showing Seoul citizens wanted Beom-seong, and the appointment power would effectively be Min-ho's, not the president's.
After that, Beom-seong trailed Min-ho's lead to orphanages, cancer wards, and slums, hustling to make his presence known. Everything was unfolding smoothly as planned. Min-ho gazed at Beom-seong with a satisfied smile.
***
Seongbuk Police Station. Having decided to welcome Eun-chae as his grandson's wife, Chairman Kang gave Moon Sang-oh one order: investigate the truth behind her mother's death.
The Soseonjae murder case. No real suspects, just a lone victim—an illogical affair. The probe felt hastily shelved under external pressure. Rumors had swirled back then, but hard facts were elusive.
His secretarial team could speed things up, but he didn't know how deep the connections ran. To minimize risk, Moon Sang-oh drove alone, quietly arriving at the station.
A drizzle was falling. He stepped out but didn't go in, standing by the entrance waiting. Soon, a disheveled man in rumpled clothes—clearly a detective—approached with a bow-legged swagger, waving.
"What brings a distinguished gentleman like you all the way here?"
"Long time, sunbae."
The man was Moon Sang-oh's high school senior, Detective Squad Leader Park Do-seop.
"Can't you crack a smile? Still dead serious as ever."
"You're the same as always, sunbae."
"Whoa, Sang-oh cracking jokes? Don't know where to put myself!"
"Sorry, but I'm short on time... You got those files I asked for?"
He handed over an envelope. "Here—every record from that case you mentioned."
Moon Sang-oh skimmed it and probed. "You handled the investigation back then, right? Nothing suspicious?"
"Of course there was. Stank of shit from a mile away."
"Why didn't you raise objections?"
It was a winnable case they'd let fizzle into impotence—a sore spot for any detective. He lit a cigarette, exhaled through his nose with a grimace. "Soseonjae murder... Been six years since Yoon Gwi-young passed. Time flies."
"I hope I haven't imposed."
"Nah. Truth is, it's embarrassing. Couldn't even fight back, just bowed my head."
"So external pressure was real?"
He sighed in resignation. "Deny it? That'd be a lie. Military regime days—you jumped when they said jump."
"Direct orders?"
"Yeah. Word came down from above to wrap it quick. Don't know exactly from where."
"And it got rushed to closure after that."
"Felt like sweeping dirt under the rug fast. You know the type."
Moon Sang-oh knew such tactics well. "Circumstances scream interference."
"Went to Soseonjae a couple times for the probe, then zilch. Obvious homicide, but stonewalled—frustrating as hell."
"Plenty of oddities."
"Like shitting and not wiping. You get it?"
If higher-ups pulled strings, beat cops were powerless. "Who was the lead prosecutor?"
"Green rookie assigned—clueless. And... Yoo Jae-yong, the district prosecutor. Ring a bell?"
"Yes, seen him around."
"Anyway, it went up to him. After that? No clue."
"Yoo... Any idea where he lives now?"
The man smacked his lips, glancing away. "Official info—can't just spill it."
Anticipating this, Moon Sang-oh pulled out a thick envelope. "Wasn't sure you'd have lunch today. This'll cover it?"
"Sang-oh... What do you take your sunbae for?"
"It's nothing. Please take it."
"Well... if you insist. I'll put it to good use." He winked, peeked inside, and pocketed it fast. Then handed over a slip with an address. "Figured you'd need this."
"Thank you."
"Brace yourself—it's a shocker."
Moon Sang-oh unfolded it and blinked in disbelief. "A former district prosecutor in a goshiwon? Something's off."
"Double-checked myself. That's the latest."
"No more details?"
"Nada. Asked around—no buzz. If he's not there, call. I'll dig."
"Appreciate it. As you guessed, I'm handling this solo and quietly. Keep it under wraps for now."
With no leads of his own, the detective tossed out a probe. "Why's JK suddenly digging this up? Chairman connected somehow?"
Moon Sang-oh smiled faintly. "You know what I'd say. Can't discuss."
"My bad for asking. Go on. Hit me up if you need more."
"Thank you."
Moon Sang-oh drove straight to Bongcheon-dong. Near the address, the road ended; he parked and climbed steep stairs to a rundown building on the hillside.
He checked the sign: 'Seongji Goshiwon... Address matches.'
No elevator—just cramped stairs. At the entrance, a man who looked like the manager sat in the tight space.
He eyed Moon Sang-oh's crisp suit. "Not here for a room..."
"Quick question: Does Yoo Jae-yong live in 618?"
"Cop? Family?"
"Elderly relative."
"Yoo Jae-yong... Name doesn't ring a bell. Hold on." He licked his fingers, flipped through the ledger. "Ah! The old prosecutor guy!"
"He still here?"
"Probably in his room. Shoes off, quiet—end of the hall."
"Thanks."
He navigated the narrow corridor to 618 at the far corner. Knocked softly. No response. As he leaned to listen, the inner door creaked open, revealing a haggard man.
"Moon Sang-oh of JK Group. Do you remember me?"
Though worn and weary, Moon Sang-oh recognized him instantly.
"Hello. Hard to forget a face from Seocho-dong."
"I have a few questions, so I came unannounced."
"Knew someone'd show eventually. Didn't expect JK... Here for that case?"
"Yes."
"Let's head to the rooftop."
They moved to the roof, where the buried truth of the case finally emerged.