AUTHOR'S NOTE: You guys are amazing as always, please keep the comments and stuff coming even if this chapter is a little...slow? I guess? idk lol

Shameless promo: I'll be guest judging an amazing writing contest here on AFF in the next couple weeks. You can find it HERE if you like - go and show some love for someone who does a hell of a lot for this community <3

Anyway, enjoy! :)

5

Hakuna Matata, or: The One With Hongki

She stood in the cold office waiting. She was waiting for a long time. The empty and silent room. Everybody seemed to have disappeared. The desks lay abandoned, plates of toast and cake and ham sandwiches and styrofoam coffecups and thermoses and flasks and files left about everywhere, computers still on, computers idling, chairs in the middle of the room just right there in front of her. Even Wheein was nowhere to be seen. Seulgi stood there with her hands in pockets thinking about almost nothing at all.

In truth all she could think of was Irene. She didn’t know where Wheein had taken her and where she was now or where she would be in six hours, where she’d be in twelve, where she’d be in three weeks. Did it even matter? Did Irene care? Seulgi didn’t know. But what she was aware of was how much it weighed on her mind, that no matter how hard she tried all that came to her was one solitary question: Is Irene alright? And then, following: How she’s doing? Where’s she going? How long will she be there? Will they take her straight there or will they take her for processing first, and then what? And the biggest question of all, the one that lingered the longest, the one she didn’t want an answer to:

Will I ever see her again?

Hongki shifted about behind his desk with the phone to his ear like an enormous animal, redfaced and swearing mutely through the glass. He had the temperament of a man fed up with his wife, fed up with his life. Fed up with everything. A big Cuban cigar smoked greyly in the ashtray on his desk and there were stacks of papers and laminated sheets hanging out of red folders marked Confidential and he paced around the room with one hand on his hip and the other holding the phone. Occasionally he would make some obscene gesture and shout so loud she could hear the dim murmur through the soundproof glass. Like a distant echo heard from underwater. And he wouldn’t look at her.

It was almost three in the afternoon. She checked her watch again to be sure. She’d slept but not a lot and then taking the Testarossa she’d driven straight to the precinct just before midday and Hongki had made her wait there two hours. Everything quiet and dreamlike and very strange to her. But without Irene everything felt strange regardless. It was odd how all-encompassing her presence had become in a such a short time. How very there she felt, even when Seulgi was asleep. Even when she was elsewhere entirely.

When he called her in it was just after three. She went in and closed the door and stood with her head bowed a slight while he watched her. It smelled of old-man cologne and cigarsmoke and faintly of lemongrass air freshener. The smoke in the ashtray coiled and wobbled bluely and evaporated. He put his hands on his hips. He crossed them in front of him. Then he rubbed at his stubbly chin and ran a hand through his hair and sat behind the desk and for a long time he did not speak. He just sat there, watching nothing, not even her. As if her presence were merely a distraction. Or an illusion to him.

‘Sir,’ she said.

He looked at her. ‘Did I tell you to talk?’ he said.

‘No sir.’

‘Did I?’

‘No sir.’

‘I didn’t hear you.’

‘No sir.’

‘So why did you talk?’

‘I ju-’

‘Nuh uh uh.’

‘I mean I-’

‘Nuh uh uh.’

‘I wa-’

‘Nuh uh.’

She nodded gravely. ‘You speak when I tell you to speak,’ he said. ‘If I want you to be quiet, you be quiet. If I want you to shout, you shout! Like that. If I want you to whisper, you put on your best little voice and you get down on your knees and you speak to the ing mice. And if I want you to get up on stage and do a musical, I’ll stand behind you and ram my hand so far up your I’ll be able to work your mouth like a puppet! Do you understand me, detective?’

‘Yes sir,' she lied.

He took a long puff of the cigar and put it back in the ashtray and blew out and pushed the chair back and stood. The papers went fluttering over the desk. ‘You’re lucky you’re not in prison right now,’ he said. ‘You’re very ing lucky, Seulgi. If it was any other head of department, you’d be looking at five years. And no job. You know what that means? It means what you think it means, Seulgi. It means no job.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘You’re lucky you’re not dead, in fact.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Yes sir, you’re damn right yes sir. What the were you thinking getting at on that boat? And what were you thinking, not telling me? Did you think I wasn’t gonna find out or something? Because I was. I was, Seulgi. I’ve got eyes everywhere in this city. My peepers are always looking. Always seeing . That’s what they’re doing, they’re around every corner, every alley. On every ing boat. And you know what they see, Seulgi? Do you?’

‘No sir.’

‘! That’s what they see, Seulgi. They see . And this – this is some .’

‘Yes sir.’

He was quiet a minute. ‘You know how bad this looks?’ he said. ‘For me, for the department. , for you. And more importantly, for the whole police force. For all of Seoul, Seulgi. We can’t have gunfights in the middle of the city. It’s not nineteen fifty. Jesus.’

‘Sir.’

‘Sir, sir, sir. What, that all you can say now?’

She looked at him. She couldn’t read his face. ‘I felt I had to do it, sir,’ she said.

‘You had to do it.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘What, you had a gun to your head or something? Even then, there’s always a choice, Seulgi. You got a gun to your head? it! Go out fighting, that's what I say. Boom! Bang! Bonanza. Custer's Last Stand! You go out like a hero, honourable and proud. Standing up for the police department, that’s what you do. That’s what you do next time. , who am I kidding? There’s not gonna be a next time. Not for a while, at least.’

‘We had information pertaining to the Leeum disappearance, sir. And we had to act on it quickly. Without anybody knowing.’

‘Yeah, no . And look what happened. Some poor guy dead in a hotel room in Yeouido – this Kim Taeho guy we got that info for you on, which I’m already regretting, before you ask, if you were going to. So you ask me to run a search on this guy and then forty-eight hours later he shows up with a bullethole in the back of his head. You know how that looks? And a boat party ruined. Can you believe it? Who ruins ing boat parties? And you slapped a guy with a fish, Seulgi. A fish! A giant fish.’

‘Sir, it was a-’

‘A cod, I know. A normal-sized fish. Whatever. The approximate size and shape of the watery creature doesn’t matter. What matters is you illegally breaking into a private location, discharging your firearm, injuring someone, causing chaos, getting someone else killed, causing chaos a second time, evading justice, not telling me what you were doing, acting like you were hot . What else? That last one’s not punishable by law, before you ask. Neither is causing chaos. That’s a subjective judgement. I was just telling you what you were doing.’

'With respect, sir, the information I was given was wrong from the start.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'At the start of the case I was told that the two men implicated in the disappearance - Kim Taeyang and Jang Joonyoung - had no past criminal history.'

'Sure.'

'Well. They did.'

'And? Maybe they used false identities. What does it matter now? They're dead.'

'With respect again, sir - if the information I was receiving at the start of the case was wrong, how could I be sure the rest of it wouldn't be? I had to act accordingly.'

'By crashing a boat party and shooting people. And then having other people die on your carpet. You're in some real , you know what? Jesus Christ.'

‘Where’s Wheein, sir?’

He looked at her and laughed. ‘You getting cocky, Kang?’

‘No sir.’

‘No sir indeed. I ask the questions around here, you hear? You don’t ask me where Wheein is, where the other idiots here are, where I am, where my wife is, or anything like that. If your own mother worked here, you wouldn’t ask me where she was. You understand?’

‘Yes sir.’

He stood straight again. Then he bent and took the bottle of pills from the second drawer and downed three of them without water and grimaced. ‘Now my wife says I’m not allowed to eat sweet potatoes either. Why can’t she just make sense for once? I don’t understand it.’

‘Sir. I can explain myself.’

‘No you can’t. Don’t even try. You’ve broken half a dozen laws and for what?’

‘We’ve got information.’

‘Everyone’s got information, Seulgi. Everyone.’

‘It’s from Kim Taeho. Before he died, he told us everything.’

‘I don’t wanna hear it.’

‘Sir, it’s important.’

He waved her down.

‘But, sir-’

‘Jesus, are you deaf woman? I said I don’t wanna hear it. You’re in enough as it is right now. Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole. , Seulgi. You know, I like you. But you make it so hard sometimes. The whole reason you were put on this case is because the higher-ups wanted you doing something where you couldn't cause another colossal -up. And what's this now? Brilliant. Jesus. You know what I used to do in this situation? Do you? I used to shut the up and sit down and take it like a good little boy. Whew, yes sir. That’s what I did. Because I had street-smarts, kid. Still do. You’ve gotta get used to that around here.’

He trailed off. As if forgetting the point he was making. Then he said, ‘Anyway, give me your badge.’

‘Sir?’

‘Your badge, Seulgi. Give me it.’

With some reluctance she took the badge from her jacket pocket and handed it over. ‘You’re off the force for twelve weeks,’ he said. ‘And before you start throwing a -fit again, let me tell you this: Twelve weeks is a ing miracle. You’re lucky you’re not off the force for a year without pay. Or fired. Or in prison. Or dead. Wait. I’ve already said that. It’s these tablets, I just know it. Make you go haywire, coo-coo, crazy, whoo-whee, hoo-hah. You know what I mean? Jesus Christ.’

‘Sir. Please.’

‘Forget it.’

‘Let me just talk. Please. That’s all I ask.’

He looked at her again. His hands resting against the walnut tabletop. There was a quiet falling over them that was uncomfortable. He ran a hand through what remained of his hair and shifted his belt and said, ‘Alright. it. Whatever. Speak. And make it quick.’

‘Okay. Alright. We spoke to Kim Taeho before he died. Before he was killed. He was assassinated.’

‘I gathered.’

‘And he told us about the White Lotus gang. He was a part of them. He found them in prison and they took him under their wing. He told us the White Lotus gang are behind the Leeum robbery. He told us they got him and a couple others – Kim Taeyang and Jang Joonyoung, the other two dead guys – to steal it. He said that’s what they do. They get people who nobody cares about to carry out all this , because if it doesn’t work, the cops just think it’s just low-level prison gang , and the higher-ups get away with it. So he and these other two nabbed it and handed it over and then Taeho disappeared. He said he knew what was going to happen to him if he stayed around so he got out of there.’

‘This what he said, huh?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘He spoke a lot, did he?’

‘A bit, sir.’

'Before the back of his head was blown out the front of his head.'

'Sir.'

‘Where’d you find him?’

‘On the boat, sir.’

‘And how’d you know he was going to be on the boat?’

‘He sent me an anonymous letter. At the hotel I checked into. The Park Hyatt.’

‘And you didn’t think of bringing this up earlier? He sent you an anonymous ing letter and you decided to act on it? And you stayed quiet?’

‘The letter said he would know if we told anyone or acted on it.’

‘Ah. The great and powerful psychic, Kim Taeho. Do you think he looked into the future and saw his own death in that hotel room? Do you think he rubbed his crystal ball and the spirits showed him his own brains on the carpet? Because I doubt it.’

‘Sir.’

‘You’re in a world of , Seulgi. A whole big toiletbowl of it. You're just the floating in the water right at the bottom. And you know what? You're about to get flushed, Seulgi. You're about to be in the sewers.’

‘Sir, please.’

He looked at her and then he made a motion for her to continue and she did.

‘He told us they’re planning on selling the painting,’ she said. ‘To a foreign businessman.’

‘What country?’

‘He said Swiss or South African, maybe.’

‘Swiss. The ing Swiss.’

‘Sir?’

‘You know my second cousin married a Swiss man? About six years back. Yeah, crazy. Did I ever tell you the story of that? Big wedding and everything. Two weddings, even. Traditional Korean one and then a Western one. We went to both, me and the wife. Travelled all the way to Switzerland for this ing three-hour wedding, and because I’d had an operation on my liver I wasn’t allowed to drink. So I sat there playing with ing balloon animals. Can you believe that?’

‘Sir, I-’

‘Anyway, he’s a nice enough guy. Doesn’t speak a word of Korean, and I don’t speak a word of English except “ You,” and “ Your Mother, er,” which I learned in a handbook once. And obviously I couldn’t say that to him. So we just sort of smiled. My wife, too. Yeah. But my cousin was loving it. They seemed like they were getting on well. Seemed like she’d settled down in Switzerland and everything. It’s expensive, you know that? Jesus, it’s expensive. Yeah. Anyway, turns out this Swiss guy had been ing his dog or something.’

She just looked at him.

‘Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? And I mean, quite literally. They’ve got video evidence and everything apparently. Real crazy . Jesus. So he got locked up for that. I don’t know what happened to the dog. I think it went to a nice loving home. I’m pretty sure I remember that in one of the letters. Or it worked as a blind dog or something. So, yeah. Moral of the story is…don’t dogs? I don’t know. I’ve lost my train of thought. Oh, . Yeah. Don’t marry Swiss men. Oh, and when I saw my cousin last year she only had one eye. Nothing related to the dog or anything. No, she lost it in a horrific skiing accident. In Switzerland, of course. Yeah. Jesus, these pills make me talk like nobody’s business. Know what I mean?’

‘Sir…’

‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Continue. Go on. You were saying about, uh, Swiss men, was it? Something about Mexico?’

‘South Africa, sir.’

‘Huh. Could’ve sworn you said Mexico. Anyway.’

‘Yeah.’ She was quiet a moment. Then she continued. ‘He said these White Lotus guys were planning on selling the Leeum painting to a foreign businessman. He gave us a date as well.’

‘A date?’

‘This Tuesday, sir. But he didn’t say where, or what time, or how we’d get there.’

‘And you believe him?’

‘He had no reason to lie, sir. He was running scared. He saw what happened to the other two and he wanted out. He wanted us to put him in Witness Protection.’

‘Ha.’ Hongki laughed. He stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray. ‘Fat chance of that happening,’ he said. ‘I mean, not because he’s dead or anything. You know how many idiots we get wanting to be put in Wit Protection every day? Kids that’ve stolen piggybank money from their brothers and . Scared they’re gonna get beat up for it. No, they wouldn’t have taken him because they wouldn’t have believed him, Seulgi. And also because he’s dead. Yeah.’

‘Sir.’

‘Go on.’

‘He said we’d be able to find the person we’re looking for in a club in Gangnam called Crisis, tomorrow night.’

‘The Mexican?’

‘Uh, South African, sir. And no. He meant one of the White Lotus members who was organising the deal.’

‘Did he give you a name?’

‘No sir.’

Hongki stood again. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’ve got the spotty information of a dead man, untrustworthy at best, with no date or time or specifics at all beyond a vague point of reference, and…what? You want us to divert our resources into it?’

‘I think it could be a good lead, sir. I think it could work out. I really do.’

‘Well. You’re not on the force, Seulgi. So, sorry about that.’

‘But sir-’

‘No buts, Seulgi. Huh. First time I’ve said that in thirty-five years.’

‘Sir.’

He looked at her. Rubbed his brow. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble for this department as it is. I can’t have detectives running around after your flimsy leads because you think some guy with a ing flower inked on his neck was telling the truth. He was probably a druggo, Seulgi. Probably shooting up H as we speak. Well. Not as we speak, for obvious reasons. But before. You understand me, Seulgi?’

‘Sir.’

Quiet between them again. Hongki waiting for Seulgi to leave and Seulgi not leaving. After a moment she said, ‘Can I ask another question, sir?’

‘Is this the last one?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Well. Go on then. Make it short. I’ve got things to be getting on with.’

‘What’s going to happen to Irene?’

‘Irene.’

‘Bae Joohyun, sir.’

‘Your partner.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Wheein’s taking her to be processed right now,’ he said. ‘And after that, she’ll be off to Seoul Correctional Facility. I'm guessing she'll be there until her court date.’

‘Sir?’

‘What?’

‘I thought she was on probation.’

‘Well, she was. That was before she broke more laws than Richard Nixon and decided to throw all of that down the drain. Or flush it down the drain. Whatever. So, she’ll be back behind bars. Where she belongs.’

‘How long for?’

‘What, do I look like a judge to you? Come on, Seulgi. How would I know?’

‘Can you guess?’

‘Are you ing with me right now?’

‘No sir.’

‘Because you know I don’t like to be ed, Seulgi.’

‘Sir.’

‘Because I…’ and then, rubbing his head and sighing: ‘Forget it.'

'It wasn't her, sir.'

'What?'

'I was the one that decided on crashing that party. Me and me alone. She had nothing to do with it. And she shouldn't be punished for that. I'd like that to be known.'

'Yeah. Well. I'd like to Grace Kelly.'

'Sir.'

'When she was alive, I mean. Not now. Jesus Christ. You look glum, Kang. You not feeling so good?'

'Sir, I-'

'No. No.'

She just looked at him.

'Here's what going to happen,' he said. 'You're going to go home and you're going to think about what you've done. And you're going to do that for twelve weeks. And you're going to realise all the you've brought on this department and you're going to be very sorry for it. And you're going to come back in twelve weeks' time and say: Sorry Hongki for all the I've caused. Very sorry. And then you're going to go sit at your desk and be very quiet and not cause any more ing trouble and that will be the end of it. Do you understand me, Seulgi?'

'Yes sir.'

'No more trouble. No drama. No worries.'

'Hakuna Matata,' she said, without even realising.

'What?'

'I, uh.'

'Did you just say Hakuna Matata?'

'It...uh, it means no worries, sir.'

'I know what it ing means, Seulgi. Jesus Christ. Hakuna Matata. That's what's gonna happen after these twelve weeks, do you understand me?'

'Sir?'

'You're gonna come back in and you're gonna sit there and you're gonna give me Hakuna Matata. Now. Repeat what I've just said.'

She looked at him a moment.

'Go on.'

'I'm going to give you...Hakuna Matata,' she said.

'Correctamundo, cowboy! And Hakuna Matata means?'

'No worries, sir.'

'So you're going to give me?'

She sighed. 'No worries, sir.'

'You're damn right no worries. Now. I’ve got a headache. You got anything else you want to blab about?’

‘No sir.’

‘Good. Go on, then. I’ll see you in three months.’

‘Sir.’

She stood a moment. Not quite knowing what to think or do. The room had grown cold again. She turned and made for the door and he called out to her and she wheeled and watched him, still there behind the desk, lighting another big Cuban.

‘Seulgi,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a question.’

‘Sir.’

‘Do you have any experience with yoga?’

‘Sir?’

‘My wife’s been trying to get me on it again recently. She says it’s good for my glutes. I don’t even know what my glutes are! I don’t want to look like some hippie in front of the ing TV screen with my legs bent like a hooker, you know what I mean? So, I’m asking if you know any other forms of yoga. I know, I know. Sounds stupid. But it’s just a question.’

‘I, uh. I don’t, sir.’

‘No? Well. Very well then. Carry on.’

She stood a moment longer. Then she nodded a solemn acceptance and turned and went out and back through the quiet and empty office and down the stairwell to the front of the precinct. It had just gone half past three. In those slim days of winter the sun had gone a bloodred against the rim of the world and the sky lay barren and inkdark and it looked fit to rain. Seulgi stood on the kerb a while looking out at nothing. The passing traffic in the waning of the afternoon. Some kid on a skateboard eating pavement at the far end of the avenue. A dog taking a whizz on the sidewalk. She climbed into the Testarossa and sat for a while in the abject silence trying to make sense of anything.

She didn’t know what was worse – Tuesday, or Irene. Or perhaps the fact that she couldn’t go home and even the thought of entertaining such an idea was dangerous at best, a death wish at worst. The day seemed to roll on without consequence. She wasn’t hungry or tired. As if her body itself had stopped its functions. She thought of Irene. Where she was, how far from Seoul Correctional, what she might be saying to Wheein. What she might be talking about. Would they be laughing over something, laughing over Seulgi? Making fun of her. Maybe. Or would Wheein even look at her? She found after close reflection that she didn’t know.

People came and went. Other officers, people in suits, women pushing prams. By five she was still there. The day had come in dark and grey. She started the engine of the Testarossa and sat a minute more idling. There was only one thing she could do. One thing she could even attempt and in truth the chance of it working was almost zero but what else was there? Something in her gut told her that painting was going to get away and that was going to be the end of it, and Hongki was normally always right but not on this. Not this time. There were always two things Hongki was afraid of – his wife and his boss. Seulgi opened the glovebox. All that remained was the empty bottle of water and a handful of the case files. Useless now. Then she pulled out into the road and turned about and headed for Amsa.

♣   ♣   ♣

In the low light the traffic ascended up the avenues and across Hannam Bridge in wavy configurations winking and disappearing in the dim of the world and the only sound the steady croak of the Testarossa’s Flat-12. When she pulled into the lot about five minutes from Shakin’ Jakes in Amsa it was just after six and the traffic behind her had come to a standstill. Cars and trucks and motorbikes crammed as far as she could see. The smoke slowly diffusing in the air. She sat there a while in silence. Listening to the cars somewhere around her. A group of guys maybe nineteen or twenty came past and said something about her car and disappeared again.

She thought once more of Irene. Of Wheein, Hongki, Kim Taeho and the others. The guy with the ponytail in the club in Gangnam in twenty-four hours. There was no time. No time to waste at all. She got out of the car and locked it and made down the road for Shakin’ Jakes.

It was just past eight when she arrived, bearing the cold against her. She crossed and bought a sandwich and a packet of crisps at a grocery store and a bottle of water and sat outside against the hard concrete waiting for the club to open. At ten past nine she stood and crossed back over the road and queued and waited. The man checked her over briefly and nodded and let her inside and she didn’t look back or question it at all.

She could hear eighties music playing. If Irene were there she would’ve said: That’s so-and-so. Or asked about a jukebox. And in some peculiar way Seulgi found herself missing that constant company, that incessant nagging voice in her ear. She sat at the bar and took out a couple bills and pushed them over the countertop and the bartender seeing her there brought out a small bottle of whiskey and took the bills and made them disappear. She poured a small glass and tipped it back. Just to take the edge off. She still hated whiskey but it reminded her of Irene. It reminded her of that night in the Park Hyatt, where she had given in to everything that was wrong and everything she shouldn’t have so that she could feel Irene against her if only for a couple hours. And in retrospect she didn’t know if it really was wrong or not. If she’d decline a repeat of the same thing. If she ever even saw Irene again.

The music and the neon ran on in tandem. Guys gathered around the lone poles, girls danced for tips, bills stuffed into the lace of their stockings, going up and around and dancing and dancing, lithe and slim and haloed in the bad light. Seulgi watched them a while. As if steeling herself for what was to come or what perhaps wasn’t. She finished a second glass of whiskey and stood and made for the bouncer in front of the backrooms where they had been before. He looked at her and stopped her.

She made to take out her badge and realised Hongki had taken it and instead took a sheaf of bills of some absurd denomination – twenties? Hundreds? Maybe – and handed them over. He asked who she would like to see and she told him and with a curt nod he said it was the last room on the right.

She went and sat on the lone couch in quiet, her hands folded in her lap. It smelled of old cigarette smoke and weed and whiskey. The walls were red and there was a small glass table in front of her. The Fugees were playing over the speakers. Irene would’ve said: That’s the Fugees. But Irene wasn’t there.

About ten minutes later the curtain opened and a woman stepped in and took one look at Seulgi and turned to leave and Seulgi called out to her. The woman turned back slowly. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Anywhere but there.

‘Joy,’ Seulgi said. ‘Wait. I need to talk to you. I need to ask you a favour.’