Taekwoon can’t exactly say he’s prepared for meeting the Songbird just now, but he stands in front of a door with a hand raised to it and ready to knock. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do if the Songbird is the one who opens the door for him, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it’s someone else.

So many years of being a detective and now he’s nervous about meeting a civilian.

He knocks on the door and waits, the knob turning after a few moments.

“Um, hi,” the guy standing in the doorway says, looking confused.

He is not the Songbird and Taekwoon is a hundred percent sure about it; he’s looked at the Songbird’s almost full-body selfie enough times to memorise his apparent proportions, his skin tone, the fragility etched into all of his visible body parts. The person in front of him is tall and lean-bodied and has a tattoo peeking from the collar of his tank top and Taekwoon almost heaves a sigh when he notices it.

“Detective Jung Taekwoon,” he announces, holding up his badge. “I’d like to have a few words with you.”

The guy goes pale, but steps aside and lets Taekwoon into his small studio flat, shuffling to the couch to fetch his slippers.

“Are you Kim Wonshik?” Taekwoon asks, looking around the place so he doesn’t have to look the guy in the eye, still feeling wrong-footed from the whole thing just because the Songbird is involved.

“Yeah,” the man says and Taekwoon closes his eyes for a moment in relief. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know the Songbird?” Taekwoon inquires then, pocketing his hands so he won’t fidget so obviously.

“Song— what,” Wonshik looks even more confused, standing in the middle of his flat in a pair of basketball shorts and a white tank top. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Do you mean Jaehwan?”

“Jaehwan?” Taekwoon arches an eyebrow, his head snapping to Wonshik curiously.

“Ah, you don’t— oh,” Wonshik deflates and if possible, even more blood leaves his cheeks. “I— you might not be talking about him.”

“Has a website through which he recruits people he can trick for money by selling his body?” Taekwoon asks with a little bit of acid to it, and the blood returns to Wonshik's cheeks at that, turning it red.

“Listen, he’s not—”

“Do you know anything about his current whereabouts?”

“I don’t,” Wonshik says firmly and it’s true; Taekwoon sees the sincerity in his eyes and maybe some… sadness, too. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“Yes, well,” Taekwoon snorts, “that would earn you a few years in jail and not in the same cell with him. Just saying. Anyways, he’s got a phone number that is supposed to be yours. Did you possibly give him a device to use?”

Wonshik opens his mouth and then promptly closes it. He makes a face as he asks, “Okay, can I get a lawyer at this point?”

“You could,” Taekwoon replies a little impatiently. “But I don’t think you want to go into the process just yet; you’ll have enough time for that later. So?”

“Do you want me to tell you how I’m connected to him?” Wonshik squints. “Like, everything?”

“By all means, yes.”

“Alright, well—” Wonshik's bottom hovers above a chair and he motions towards the one closer to Taekwoon, although a little hesitatingly. “Sit down, if you want.”

“Thank you.”

Taekwoon pulls out the chair and sits, lacing his fingers on the table top.

“So,” Wonshik clears his throat, “I’d actually heard about Jaehwan's site from a friend and—”

“Who is that friend?”

Wonshik furrows his brow in judgement, his facial expression turning dark. Taekwoon doesn’t budge, but he can feel how much he’s annoying Wonshik.

“His name is Hongbin, Lee Hongbin,” Wonshik replies with a small sigh. “I’m not sure how he knows Jaehwan but I think he said something about some high school they attended together? So, I was, like, really under the weather and I’d been like that for a while at that point and Hongbin suggested I try meeting with Jaehwan.” He pauses, shutting his eyes for a second. “Jaehwan and I, we talked a lot through e-mails, it was a bit like online friendship at first, but then I… I don’t know, I kind of started to feel something for him. We met up after a while and talked a lot and started meeting each other from time to time.” He glances up at Taekwoon, his face flushed again. “I just really liked Jaehwan and um, well, he said he didn’t like me like that, but he still wanted to be friends with me, though it was difficult because of his… circumstances. I gave him my old phone because he once mentioned how much more comfortable it would be to talk to people by using a smartphone instead of e-mailing each other.”

“Are you saying he’s been operating a website which actually brings him a lot of money, but there was a time when he didn’t have a phone?” Taekwoon asks, disbelieving.

“The website is not his and he said he can’t have a phone because it’s dangerous,” Wonshik says, now obviously concerned that he’s saying too much. He averts his eyes. “The whole thing is totally different from how you see it.”

“Care to share how it’s different?”

Wonshik leans back in his chair, his face haggard like he has aged 20 years during their conversation. He looks broken and now it’s Taekwoon who feels confused.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Wonshik mumbles. “It’s— it’s just not my business to talk about, you know? I’ve never really been involved in the story apart from being Jaehwan's… friend, or whatever.”

“Are you currently in contact with Jaehwan?”

“No,” Wonshik shakes his head. “He’s not allowed to contact me.”

“What do you mean ‘not allowed’?”

Wonshik makes a wailing noise.

“Can we please stop now?”

“Alright,” Taekwoon takes a deep breath and stands up. “Thank you for your contribution, though; you’ve been a great help. Here’s my contact if you happen to remember something you wouldn’t like to keep to yourself.”

Wonshik slowly reaches out for the business card Taekwoon is offering him, turning it around between his fingers, looking at it, but probably not actually seeing it.

“Are you a real cop?” he asks, blinking up at Taekwoon.

“I am,” Taekwoon nods. “I have a gun and all.”

Wonshik snorts, half a smile quirking the left corner of his mouth upwards, but a beat later it dies down and he looks up with sadness in his eyes.

“Please, don’t hurt Jaehwan,” he says quietly. “He’s not the one at fault.”