[gif set credit: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/daezzlings/182192001017]

The precinct was in so much chaos that Yongguk knew something was amiss the moment he stepped inside.

The tech team members were yelling at each other to pull up surveillance footage, over the cacophony of what sounded like a dozen phone calls going on at once. Yongguk stepped back in surprise as one of his team members flew past ahead of him, barely even sparing him a glance and definitely not noticing that they’d just avoided a head-on collision. He managed to make it to his desk without much incident, but once he set down his bag, he scooted over to the person who was sitting at the desk beside him.

“What’s happening?”

His colleague raised his eyebrows at him. “Didn’t you check your phone?”

“Oh, uh…” He patted his pockets to try to find his phone, but came up empty. “Might be in my bag.” Unlike most people his age, he didn’t always have his phone glued to him. The last time he’d checked his phone was probably a couple of hours ago.

“Kim Tae Song reported his children missing,” his colleague informed him. “About half an hour ago. It might be nothing, but it might be… you know…”

Yongguk’s face fell. He did know. He desperately wished it wasn’t what he was thinking, but he was sure every cop on their team was drawing the same inferences.

“You may want to check in with Doojoon,” his colleague said. “We’re trying find out as much information as we can for now, but I think he’s going to bring a team down to Kim Tae Song’s house. You should see if he needs you.”

Yongguk’s mouth was suddenly so dry, that it took him two tries before he could find his voice. “R-right. Okay. Thanks.”

There was nothing he wanted less than to go to Kim Tae Song’s house, but he got up and went to Doojoon’s office anyway. When he knocked on the open door, Doojoon was wrapping up a briefing with several other officers, and they were gathering up their things to leave. The squad leader’s face lit up when he saw Yongguk.

“Did you just come in?”

Yongguk nodded. “Yeah. I’m on the night shift today.”

“Perfect timing,” Doojoon said. He gestured for Yongguk to follow the rest of the team. “You’re coming with us. I’ll brief you in the car.”

Yongguk had never been to Kim Tae Song’s house, but driving through the tall iron gates, he was struck by how familiar it felt. The last house he’d visited that was this grand, with its own guard post and armed security guards stationed within it, had belonged to Choi Jung Hoon. And the last time he’d been in that house… well, things hadn’t ended well.

As if the outside of the house didn’t give away that its owner was someone of some status, the ostentatious interior design surely did. Not unlike Nara’s house, the mansion was large and spacious, and the front door led to an open parlor with a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging from a high ceiling. However, that was as far as the resemblance went. While Nara’s father favored old-world Chinese décor, with lots of dark teak and gold details, Kim Tae Song’s house was a catalogue-worthy picture of sleek, modern Scandinavian design. It was a mix of clean lines, white marble and light wood, and read more like young Hollywood than gang leader. The whole place was shiny and immaculate, save for a suitcase and a carryall that had been unceremoniously abandoned in the middle of the parlor. He’d heard that Kim Tae Song had been in Japan when the incident had occurred, and he’d chartered a plane back the moment he’d been alerted.

As the group of detectives filed in, none other than Kim stepped out into the parlor to meet them. He made a beeline for Doojoon first, his face contorted in worry. “Any news?”

“Not yet, Mr. Kim, but you’ll be the first to know if my team finds anything,” Doojoon assured him, clasping his hand. “I’ll have my tech team set up first, in case someone calls in – where do you have space for us?”

Kim barked out a name, and a servant quickly stepped forward to usher some of the detectives towards the living room. “I’ll also need the security footage around the house,” Doojoon said, quickly delegating the work. “I’ll have some of my officers speak to the witnesses.”

As Doojoon gestured for him, Yongguk stepped forward, and for the first time, Kim Tae Song noticed him. Instantly, the older man’s face twisted into a sneer in recognition. “Seems like our paths continue to cross, Officer.”

Yongguk could barely hold back the shiver of revulsion that ran through him when their eyes met. He’d thought it back then, and he still thought it now – that Kim Tae Song’s eyes reminded him of those of a snake. There was just something that was cold and calculating about the older man’s piercing stare that he found positively reptilian.

Luckily for Yongguk, Kim didn’t look like he was in the mood to rehash their past dealings. He was clearly distraught, his tie loose around his collar, and his shirt wrinkled with the top few buttons undone. A hint of a salt-and-pepper five-o’clock shadow made him appear gaunt and older than he was. Even back then, when he’d been working undercover, he’d known how much Kim Tae Song loved his children. His first wife hadn’t been able to bear children, and it’d only been in his second marriage, well into his fifties, that he’d managed to become a father.

Of course, the most concerning thing about this little nugget of information wasn’t that Yongguk knew it; it was the fact that everyone in the Black Dragon knew it too.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” Doojoon asked, as a formality. Everyone knew who Kim was, and what he did for a living. “Any enemies... or people who may want to do you harm?”

Kim’s eyes flicked to Yongguk’s for a brief second, hard and fiery. “I can think of some people.”

Yongguk swallowed, but said nothing.

Doojoon observed the exchange quietly, before pulling out his notebook. “Okay. In that case, why don’t I take your statement first? Yongguk, do you think you can speak to the nanny? She’s the primary eyewitness.”

Yongguk nodded. “Yes, sir.” He ducked his eyes, avoiding Kim’s gaze before he wandered off in search of his assigned target.

It was past midnight. The tension in the house had increased palpably, even though the hustle and bustle had ceased somewhat. The tech team were still waiting in the living room, where they’d set up all their equipment, but they’d yet to find anything useful. Both Mr. and Mrs. Kim were seated among them, both looking wearier by the second. They’d both received many phone calls since the police had arrived, but none of them had turned up any information about their missing children.

Yongguk sat alone at the bar in a corner of the expansive living space, tapping his pen against the countertop as he mulled over his notes. He’d interviewed both the nanny and the driver, and their stories had been quite consistent with whatever they’d told the officers who’d first arrived on the scene: the driver had picked up the kids from school, and the nanny had been waiting for them at the back gate of the house, where she normally picked them up. Just as she was about to bring them into the house, two men jumped out of a white van, and one threatened them with a knife before grabbing the kids. CCTV footage from the back gate of the house confirmed that there had been a white van parked outside the house just before the incident, but unfortunately, since the driver had had to pull up behind the van, the Kims’ car was out of frame. The camera only managed to capture the nanny walking out of the house and behind the van, and then moments later, the van driving away. When the nanny and driver both appeared on the screen again, they were seemingly in distress before the nanny started making a call.

The stories seemed to match the evidence. Although there hadn’t been any footage of whatever had transpired behind the white van, police had recovered a shoe that belonged to Jaemin, the younger child, indicating that there had been a struggle. There wasn’t much else. Whoever had done it had been quick, methodical, efficient.

He knew it was possible that he might be over-thinking things, but the uniformity of their accounts, despite being interviewed by three different officers, bothered him. Both of them had recited their stories with all the same details, in the exact same order, despite looking nervous and shaken. Having worked as a uniformed officer for a while, he knew that often, the first statement he took often had details that didn’t line up with later statements, especially if the event was particularly traumatic. Of course, it was a good thing for investigators if witnesses were consistent and accurate in their statements, but the fact that both of them were equally consistent didn’t sit right with him. On top of it, there was one small detail that differed in both their statements: while both had said that they couldn’t see the men’s faces clearly because they had been wearing masks and caps, the driver had mentioned that one of them was wearing sunglasses – a fact that all three accounts by the nanny had omitted.

Just as he was scribbling down a reminder to speak to the nanny again, one of his teammates rushed into the living room. He headed straight to Doojoon and whispered something to him.

Doojoon nodded before addressing the room. “We found the white van.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Kim shot up to their feet hopefully.

“It’s been abandoned in a scrapyard,” Doojoon informed them. “Currently, there are no signs of the kids, but Forensics is heading down right now. They’ll do a detailed examination, and we’ll confirm if that’s the van we’re looking for.”

Deflating, the parents sank back into the couch.

Doojoon folded his arms, trying to hold his frustration at bay, before barking at the closest officer to him. “Mobilize the patrol squads to scope out the area.” Then, he turned to another officer. “Call the surveillance team and tell them to watch all the footage again. If that van stopped anywhere along the way, I want to know. Move, now!”

When Jongup answered the phone, the first sounds Nara heard were giggling.

“You’re so silly!” came the sound of Minhee shrieking.

“Hi, Noona!” Jongup greeted her brightly, his face covering the screen. “Wanna see the kids?”

The camera switched to another angle, and the cavernous basement came into focus. The footage was grainy, but in a corner, she could see that the kids were already all bundled up in a pile of blankets that had been laid out for them, dressed and ready for bed. Junhong was reading them a bedtime story, complete with exaggerated noises and funny faces.

She smiled despite herself.

“How’s everything up there?” Jongup asked, switching the camera back to selfie mode.

“As we expected,” Nara replied nonchalantly. “He’s got cops crawling all over his house. We’ll let him stew for a few days before we make contact.”

“You think they suspect us?”

Nara shrugged. “Probably. It’s likely they’ll be tailing me and Himchan soon. You and Junhong hang tight. Youngjae and Daehyun will take over in a couple of days.”

Jongup nodded. If he was worried, he didn’t show it.

“Is everything okay here?”

“It’s fine,” Jongup reported. “The kids are having fun. They think we’re on a vacation. It seems like their parents aren’t home a lot, so they don’t seem to have a problem being around strangers for long periods.” He paused wistfully. “How long are we going to keep them here, though?”

Nara said nothing for a moment, as if she were considering the question. Her voice was light when she finally spoke again. “That depends on how long it takes for their father to break.”

“You really shouldn’t call me. I’m already in trouble for letting you see Howon.”

Yongguk fiddled with the pen on his table. “Be honest with me, Junhong. Does the kidnapping have anything to do with you guys?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I really can’t talk to you, hyung. I’m hanging up.”

“Where are you?”

There was another pause, but Junhong did not hang up. That was a good sign.

“You’re not in Seoul, are you?” Yongguk pushed on further. “Are you with the children?”

“I really, really can’t talk to you.”

Junhong’s voice was trembling now. Yongguk could tell that he was nervous. That only confirmed his conjecture.

“Junhong, listen to me,” he said, sitting up in his chair. “Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop. Kidnapping is serious. If you get caught, you’re facing capital punishment. The whole lot of you. Are you really going to do this to Howon?”

There was another long pause. “Hyung, you’re on that task force, aren’t you? The one that’s out to get us?”

Yongguk chewed on his bottom lip. “Please ask her to reconsider. I don’t know what is going down between the two gangs, but… going after Kim Tae Song’s children? Hasn’t it occurred to her that he could do the same to her? If anything happens to Howon…”

“Howon is safe,” Junhong blurted out. Then, immediately regretting it, he quickly added, “Don’t go and see him again. Nara noona will kill me.”

“If she can’t protect our son, then I’m going to do it,” Yongguk said firmly. “Please, Junhong. If you really care about Howon, you’ll stop all of this senselessness.”

The other end of the line was silent again, so long that Yongguk thought that maybe Junhong had already hung up without him realizing it.

“Hyung, don’t contact me again.”

Before Yongguk could say anything else, the phone line disconnected.

“What are you doing here?”

Yongguk didn’t have to turn to recognize the voice. He stood firm, continuing to look into Howon’s classroom while ignoring the speaker.

“I’m talking to you.”

He felt the hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged it off as he whipped around to meet the narrowed eyes of Kim Himchan.

“Don’t make a scene,” Yongguk said, his voice measured. “We’re in public.”

Himchan glanced at the handful of parents standing around in the corridor of the schoolhouse. “And if we weren’t, you’d be dead on the floor five seconds ago. You have some nerve, showing your face around us again.”

“I have every right to be here,” Yongguk replied. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to be dead.”

“That’s what you think,” Himchan countered. “I happen to have a very different opinion. I won’t ask you again; what are you doing here?”

Yongguk knew he probably should have just kept his mouth shut and walked away, but staring into Himchan’s stormy eyes, he felt an inexplicable rage. “I’m visiting my son. What are you doing here?”

Himchan’s jaw ticked, and if it were even possible, his eyes darkened further. “And who the are you calling your son?”

Yongguk scoffed. “My son? Well, I know for a fact that he’s mine. Is yours?”

“What did you say?”

“Who’s your son?” Yongguk taunted, eyes flashing. “Is he yours, or are you just temporarily taking care of someone else’s?”

If not for the loud gasps that echoed through the corridor, Yongguk wouldn’t have realized that he was flat on his back. It took all of half a second, but the next thing he could register was Himchan’s fist swinging down towards him.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Yongguk looked up to see Chief Kang strolling into the holding area, looking livid. He glanced towards the opposite cell, where Himchan was scowling, nursing a bruised cheek, and said nothing.

One of the officers unlocked the cell, and Yongguk trudged out, his steps heavy. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”

“It sure as hell won’t,” Chief Kang snapped. He spotted Himchan, and cleared his throat. “Let’s talk outside.”

Yongguk looked down at the floor as he followed Chief Kang out of the holding cells, and into an empty corridor. The moment they were alone, his superior whirled on him.

“Explain yourself,” Chief Kang demanded. “Why the hell were you fighting with the target of our investigation in a ing kindergarten, of all places?” He eyed Yongguk with frustration and handed him a tissue. “And why the do you look like you lost to him?”

Yongguk knew that he probably looked like a sorry sight with a black eye and a cut lip. “He took me by surprise. It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t planning on starting a fight in front of a classroom full of four-year-olds.”

“Why were you even there?” Kang asked, folding his arms across his chest. “And alone, too, without your teammates. What were you thinking?”

“Sorry, sir,” Yongguk said, wiping the corner of his lip gingerly. “I guess I was anxious to solve the case. I couldn’t sleep not knowing what happened to Kim Taesong’s young children.”

Chief Kang sighed irritably. “You think I’m an idiot? His kids don’t even go there. You know who goes there? Kim Himchan’s son. And lo and behold, you run into him there. In what world did that sound like a good idea?”

Yongguk continued to stare at the floor. “We know it’s them, right? The ones who took Kim Taesong’s kids.”

“So what? You were going to take their kid in return?” Chief Kang barked out a laugh. “You’re getting too close to this case, Bang. I have every right to pull you off the task force.”

“Please don’t,” Yongguk said, his head snapping up. “I know I messed up, but it won’t happen again.”

Chief Kang scoffed. “And you’re promising me this on what basis, exactly? You were already on thin ice when you paid an unauthorized, off-the-record visit to Choi Nara when she was in holding. What, are you thinking of going back to join them?”

“Of course not,” Yongguk responded. “I just want to crack the case and put them away for good. I swear.”

“Consider this your last strike, Bang,” Chief Kang warned. “All eyes are on you. Everyone knows your history with the Black Dragon, and everyone’s just waiting for you to mess up. Don’t make me regret giving you this chance at redemption.”

Howon was sitting on the metal bench in the waiting area, his legs swinging as he waited beside his Uncle Youngjae. He looked up when Yongguk came out of a door, massaging his neck.

“Ajusshi, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Howon,” Yongguk said, smiling brightly. He ignored Youngjae, who was staring at him incredulously. “Sorry to have scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Howon replied. “But umma said fighting is bad. Why were you fighting with my appa?”

“Yes, Officer,” Youngjae chimed in. “Why were you fighting with Howon’s appa?”

“We had a disagreement,” Yongguk said, finally looking at Youngjae. “It was wrong for us to fight, and we should have dealt with it with words. Won’t happen again.”

“Howon, I would like to talk to this ajusshi in private,” Youngjae said pleasantly. “Do you think you can wait for us over there?”

“Okay,” Howon said, scooting over to the end of the next bench.

Youngjae was still smiling when he regarded Yongguk. “Why were you at Howon’s school?”

“How long did you guys think you could keep me from seeing my son?”

“You say he’s yours like you really believe it,” Youngjae commented.

“I do,” Yongguk replied evenly. “I’m willing to do a paternity test to confirm it, but your boss obviously has something to hide.”

Youngjae chuckled. “What good would a paternity test do? Are you going to fight us for custody? Try to get visitation rights on weekends? I don’t think we can ever have that kind of relationship, Officer.”

“You have no right to decide what kind of relationship I have with my son.”

“I don’t know much about family,” Youngjae pointed out. “But I think you have to do a bit more than contribute some before you can call yourself someone’s father.”

Yongguk sighed. “And yet the whole bunch of you are doing everything you can to stop me from doing more. I don’t think it’s fair that I never knew I had a son all these years.”

“I don’t think it’s fair that we took someone into our family, only for him to tear us apart from the inside,” Youngjae said. “And instead of having any shame, here he is, trying to do it again. What exactly do we owe you, Officer? Why are you so obsessed with us?”

“I know nothing can change what I did in the past,” Yongguk said evenly. “But think about what you’re doing now. How can this possibly end well for Howon?”

A bemused grin stretched across Youngjae’s face. “And what exactly are we doing, Officer?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Youngjae gasped, feigning fear. “Are you going to arrest us, with that task force of yours?”

“I will, if I have to,” Yongguk agreed. “Which is why I’m warning you to stop.”

Youngjae snorted. “I will take your opinion into consideration.”

“I’m serious,” Yongguk insisted. “If Howon is harmed in any way…”

“You know what?” Youngjae interrupted, clearly not in the mood to get lectured. “If you even have any shred of decency, or if you care about Howon at all, you’d just leave us the alone. You go your own way, and we’ll go ours. After what you did to us three years ago, I think you owe us that much.”

Yongguk pursed his lips. “I don’t owe you anything. Especially not if you insist on carrying on with whatever you’re planning. I’m a cop, doing my job, and I will do what I have to when this all blows up.”

Youngjae cocked his head, meeting Yongguk’s eyes in defiance. “Alright. Remember you said that.”