Tourists and locals alike flock to Hongdae, Haebangchon, Itaewon, Gangnam and Sinchon. The cities are full of nightclubs, bars, vendors, and a variety of entertainment including street performers and concerts. Hongdae and Sinchon are comparable to college towns, where young people tend to hang out, especially on weekends, when it can get rather crowded.

Just up the hill from Itaewon is Haebangchon, and both areas have a combination of clubs, trendy restaurants, rooftop bars overlooking the city and Irish pubs, where many U.S. military members spend time.

Gangnam is known worldwide as the shopping and nightlife center of Seoul, boasting high-end clubs like Octagon and Arena.

Minseok’s in the area, just a few blocks, blinking to get rid of the neon afterimages.

He grew up just east of Seoul, in a city that wasn’t its own until just a few years before he was born. He’s used to city life and crowded areas.

Doesn’t mean he likes them, which used to make him wonder why he joined the Gangnam division and not a smaller city or town.

As a cop, he’s seen too much of the seedy underbelly of the cities. No amount of neon or glitter or piles of meat and beer can disillusion him. Affluent families and celebrities are the face of Gangnam, shielding those living in poverty or struggling with depression and distress even as they’re close neighbors.

His partner seems to enjoy it, however, sticking his nose out the open window and breathing deep as they drive their patrol. “It’s pretty slow right now, Loey,” Minseok comments, looking in his rearview mirror. “You up for a burger?”

Loey’s big ears stand tall and still, and his tongue lolls out the side of his mouth after an enthusiastic bark.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Minseok rolls to a stop at a light. It’s quick, and he turns left, heading north.

There’s a restaurant along the Han in Gangnam they both enjoy. Loey always gets a complimentary patty, no matter how many times Minseok offers to pay for it.

The owner greets him warmly when he walks in, and he ignores the wary looks of the other patrons. Some people like cops; others have a natural aversion. He gets it.

Minseok keeps an eye on Loey in the car. The dog is patient, but there’s a string of drool hanging from his mouth. The interior of his car is cleaned every day to get rid of the fur, drool, and nose smears on the window.

“Quiet night, Officer Kim?” The owner flips and flattens a line of burgers, talking over the spitting sizzles. His daughter stands at his shoulder, ready with a line of buns.

“So far.” Most of his calls are drunk and disorderlies, the occasional assault—often from drinking—and prank calls that he still has to respond to.

The radio at his shoulder crackles, and dispatch announces a code and address. Minseok sighs and picks up the radio. “On my way.” He accepts his bag of food with a grateful smile. “Back to work. Suspicious activity, probably kids.”

“You blame everything on kids,” the daughter mumbles. Her dad elbows her arm with a frown.

“Because it often is kids. Tell your friends to behave, and maybe my opinion will change.” Minseok passes a handful of cash and makes a quick exit before the owner complains about paying for Loey’s extra burger patty.

“Sorry, boy,” he says, as he slides behind the wheel. “We gotta go.” Loey sniffs the air and sighs.

The drive takes a handful of minutes, but there’s a marked difference as he drives further into the projects. The road is rougher, and he slows down after a pothole drops the entire front end to the pavement. Sidewalks are overgrown and cracked, weeds growing alongside more than actual grass. The few people he sees walk with their heads down and shoulders bowed, like they’re carrying a physical weight on their backs. A dog pulls at the end of its chain, barking wildly at his car.

The address takes him to the middle of a residential street. Some houses are trying to look neat, but the standards of cleanliness and welcome are very low. He can feel eyes on him as he exits his car and locks it. A candy wrapper blows up against his shoe, clinging for an instant before being tossed back into the wind.

“Alright, Loey,” he says, looking into the back seat. Keen brown eyes watch him steadily, big ears up and alert. “Let’s check it out.” He exits the car and opens the rear door, clipping a leash to the Shepherd’s harness. Loey trots at his side, sniffing the front door once they reach the step.

Knocking on the door, there’s nothing. Peering inside, Minseok sees no movement or even signs of life. Trying his luck, he turns the knob.

It’s unlocked.

He unclips Loey and draws his weapon before opening the door. Loey takes off to investigate, and while Minseok doesn’t hear anything but this dog’s noisy sniffing and footfalls, he’s careful and balances his right hand over his left, aiming a flashlight into the shadows. “Police!” he barks.

Inside is even filthier than outside. People often squat in abandoned or empty buildings, leaving behind everything they’ve used once they’re chased away or move on. There’s probably years worth of refuse strewn across the floor and piled up in corners—tissues, magazines, fast food and convenience store wrappers, syringe caps, articles of clothing...

Loey barks.

Something falls farther into the home, and he quickly clears rooms before following a vague path through the clutter and facing a partly closed door. He opens it with his foot and immediately focuses on movement in the far corner, partly hidden by dilapidated boxes. “Police. Hands on your head, face me slowly.” They obey, squinting when faced with his flashlight, and Minseok lowers his weapon.

They’re young, maybe six years old, and crying softly behind a curtain of long, messy hair. Minseok aims the flashlight on the floor.

“Hey, bud… I’m a police officer. Are you alone?”

They look to the right and nod. Even from a distance, Minseok can tell the body on the floor is dead, but he checks for a pulse and finds none. It’s cool to the touch. Loey sniffs it and snorts. The only other door leads outside and is boarded shut from the inside.

He looks to the child again. “My name is Minseok, and this is Loey. I’m putting this away, okay?” He holsters his weapon and shows his empty hand and flashlight. “What’s your name?” He crouches down and is surprised enough to fall on his when the child throws their arms around his neck. Tears wet his uniform, but he’s more concerned with how light they are. Loey sniffs them and snorts, nosing around his arms and torso before putting his nose to the ground and making his way to the corpse, leash trailing, where he lies down. The child tightens their hold, and Minseok calls the Shepherd back.

Turning his head as much as he can, he radios his location and status, then carries the child outside to wait for the ambulance. He debates putting them in the car with Loey, but they seem to fall asleep in his arms, so he keeps pacing, rocking the child. Sleep is probably the best thing for them right now, and a gentle hand on their back soothes the start of more tears.

A wailing in the distance rouses them from their nap, and Minseok pulls his uniform jacket over them with as a crowd starts to form, settling them in the passenger seat of his car with Loey sitting close.

Two EMTs hop out of the ambulance. Minseok recognizes one of them and offers an unenthusiastic greeting.

“The body’s inside, but this child was there, too,” he explains. His friend stays outside while the other enters the house to check the body. “No injuries that I could see. No identification on them or the body.” Minseok makes sure he’s noticeable as the child is picked up and set on a gurney to allow the EMT a brief examination.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m Sunny. Just gonna check you out for any injuries and then we'll go for a ride, okay?” She’s gentle and quick, but it’s hard to tell what’s a bruise and what’s dirt. “Obviously young, but they’re small and light—probably malnourished. We’ll take them back to the hospital.”

Strapped onto the gurney, they’re unwilling to let go of Minseok’s hand, whining when an EMT tries to open his fingers. “It’s fine.” Minseok brushes dirty black hair from their face. “I’ve gotta work, and you need to see a doctor. I promise I will see you tonight.” He unpins his shield from his shirt. “This is very important to me, and my boss will be super upset if I lose it. Will you hold onto it for me?” The child nods jerkily, fighting the welling tears and carefully takes the badge. “I knew I could trust you. I’ll see you tonight to get it back, okay? Can you be brave for a while longer?

“I’ll see you later.” He holds up a pinkie and smiles when its linked with a much smaller finger. “I promise.”

He keeps crowds back with Loey as detectives and crime scene investigators do their rounds. Plastic bags of used syringes, bottles, clothing, and miscellaneous detritus are boxed up and loaded into a truck to be taken to the lab. Some buckets of more mysterious things are loaded, as well, techs looking a little green.

The body is removed and taken by the medical examiner to the hospital. Minseok overhears a detective asking who found the body, and Minseok introduces himself.

“I was responding to a suspicious activity call. The kid was inside, with the body.”

The detective, Inspector Kim Hyoyeon, swears softly and chews her bottom lip.. “That guy’s been dead for at least two days… Where’s the child, now? I need to question them.”

“Hospital. Hasn’t said a word, though, ma’am. I don’t know if they speak at all.”

“Well, we’ll find a translator, just in case… First sweep looks like an overdose. Guy was probably squatting here until it was sold.” She touches Minseok’s elbow. “Good work, Officer. You up for a drive? The kid may be more relaxed, having you there for questioning.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Minseok follows Inspector Kim to the hospital. They park in the lot outside the emergency room, flashing identification when they approach the first reception desk. After a brief exchange, the nurse pages a doctor and fills them in on what they’ve learned so far.

The child is a boy, type A blood, and that’s about all the staff can tell. “We’re running his blood, seeing about family. He still won’t talk to us. He’ll point to things, like the menu, when I asked if he was hungry earlier, but he will not speak.”

Doctor Jung bows in greeting and passes a folder to the nurse. “You’re here about the child brought in about a couple hours ago?” They nod. Loey sniffs her jacket and sneezes. She wiggles her fingers at him, which he ignores. “I asked the psychologist to talk with him. I’ve heard the medical examiner has already done her preliminary exam, and I believe his mutism is because of the drugs the man was probably taking. She’ll be able to tell you more. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help just yet.”

As she returns to her rotations, Minseok rubs a hand between Loey’s ears. The detective sighs and flips her notebook shut, tucking it into her pocket. “Let’s visit the morgue before seeing the kid. Let him eat in peace and rest a little before talking to him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Minseok has never been to this morgue. He’s only visited one once in his life, and once was enough.

The elevator ride is quiet but not uncomfortable. Loey sits by Minseok’s feet and is still, just swiveling his head to check for smells. Inspector Kim leans against the wall and stares at the reflective wall beneath the button panel.

Minseok has heard about the homicide detective from other officers. She’s strict but fair, taking no from male coworkers but remaining considerate. She smiles softly when Minseok can’t hold in his shivers at the dropping temperature.

“It’s a natural response to the cold,” she says. “Don’t worry about trying to hide it.” Her shoulders shudder sharply, and she laughs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, no matter how many times I come down here. Should really keep a parka in the car just for this.” The door dings, and she leads the way down the short hallway to the autopsy suite.

Autopsy is an open room with three metal tables with what appear to be shallow sinks at an end. An entire wall is just stainless steel doors, about two feet by two feet. Everything is shiny, sterile, and cold.

The doctor herself doesn’t fit with her environment. She’s prettier than Minseok expects greets them both with a brief bow.

“Inspector Kim. Nice to see you again.”

“If only they were nicer circumstances. We only meet when somebody dies.” She gestures between the medical examiner and Minseok. “Doctor Song, Officer Kim. ”

“Hello. That’s the only way I meet anyone,” the doctor remarks. She notices Loey and frowns. “I don’t allow dogs in my morgue.”

“He has clearance,” Inspector Kim says with a smile. “Officer Kim is his partner and handler. They found the corpse.”

“Oh.” She apparently has nothing else to say, choosing to ignore the Shepherd. “My preliminary examination doesn’t tell much. Your victim is young and probably attractive when alive and a healthy weight. He’s skinny, malnourished, vitamin deficient... Probably early twenties, looking at his teeth and stature. If I had to guess why he died,” she lifts an arm, showing numerous hive-like marks, “it’d be overdose. There are more scars than fresh injections. Probably went to rehab or tried to get clean for a while.. I’ll know more once I open him up, but if his blood, prints, and teeth get no results, I’d suggest looking at drug clinics.”

“Thank you…” Inspector Kim scribbles a final note. “Do you know the drug?”

“Meth. The scars on the face are self-inflicted; meth users obsessively pick their skin. The doc said the kid hasn’t said anything, as well, and I’m not surprised. Methamphetamines can cause rapid or irregular heartbeat, delirium, panic, psychosis, and heart failure. This guy probably wanted silence, or the kid wanted to be as unnoticed as possible. The drug rewires the brain after a short while, and shooting it up, rather than ingesting or snorting it, makes it take greater effect sooner. Almost instantaneously. Like I mentioned, he has significant scarring, both from needle use and probably his own nails, but these fresh injection sites are what stand out to me, because they’re all approximately the same age. No experienced user is going to repeatedly inject themselves. With how it affects the body, it’s not even possible to be this accurate while under the influence.

“Again, I’ll probably know more after the autopsy, but in my professional opinion, you very well may be looking at murder.”

Minseok didn’t think it possible, but the room feels like it gets colder. Even Loey seems to shiver and lean closer to his legs.

“Thank you again, Doctor. We’ll be in touch.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.”

“Some other time, Qian-ssi.” Inspector Kim walks out fast enough Minseok nearly catches the swinging door with his face. Loey flinches and drops his ears to his head.

Back in the hall, waiting for the elevator, the detective sighs and shivers again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the bodies.It takes a special personality to thrive in a morgue.”

“The same could be said about a homicide detective.”

She grins at him. “Very true. I get through the day knowing that I catch bad guys. If only I could catch them before someone dies.” A soft laugh, then, “But then it wouldn’t be homicide, and I wouldn’t have a job.”

The elevator dings and slides open. Minseok holds Loey back to let the detective on first. She presses the button for the ground floor. They’re only silent for a few moments when she speaks again. “I know it’s not your beat, but I would appreciate your help on this case.

“You know the boy, even if only briefly. There’s already a rapport built. “I’ll clear it with your supervisor, but that relationship may be invaluable. Plus, what he needs most now is some kind of stability.”

Round, wet eyes and a dirty face flashes in Minseok’s mind. He’s never seen anyone so terrified or relieved. “We’ll help however we can,” he says, giving Loey’s leash a soft tug.

“Thank you. We’ll try seeing him now.”

The doors open to the ground floor, and Minseok’s phone buzzes at his hip. He guides Loey aside and checks it. There’s a text from his roommate.

coming home for dinner?
we need beer.

He replies and tucks it back into his pocket. The detective watches from the corner of her eye and smiles. “Wife? Girlfriend?”

“May as well be. My roommate. He knows I don’t always work regular hours but always asks if I’ll be home for dinner.”

“It’s nice to have someone looking out for you.”

“Do you?”

She nods. “My mom and dad. I moved home after Papa had a heart attack, and it’s like I’m a kid again to them. Asking if I’ve eaten, if I’m dressed warm, if I have an umbrella when it rains…” She sighs. “I appreciate it. On my own, I’d often forget or ignore those simple things. They seemed so insignificant, but I’d lose focus or energy because I was hungry, or I’d get sick, because I got too cold or wet, so.” She shrugs, smile softer and more fond.

Minseok notices a sign and pauses, pointing to it with a finger. “Could we stop somewhere before returning to the hospital, ma’am? I’d like to pick something up.”

She nods again. “Sure.”

The hospital has a florist, small convenience store with snacks, and a gift shop. Minseok buys a soft stuffed bear, debating between two styles before the detective leans into a bin and pulls out a bear the size of a toddler that Loey looks really interested in. She buys a bouquet of dyed daisies with a sheer blue ribbon tied around the vase.

After paying, they follow blue floor tiles to an elevator with signs mounted on the wall beside it. Children’s ward is on the third floor. Minseok presses the call button, and they wait.

The detective sighs. “I’ve honestly never liked hospitals,” she says. “They try to hard to be welcoming and accommodating but really fall short. At least they’ve gotten away from that 80s teal, though,” she remarks, looking around the hall.

The light panel shows their number, and a bell dings as the door opens. Faced with an empty car, they board leisurely and stand a distance apart for the short ride up.

A uniformed police officer in the hall suggests the room they want. He salutes and doesn’t ask for any ID but eyes Loey warily.

The interior of the room is a lot like the rest of the rooms of the hospital, although the bed is smaller, and there are more pictures and books to appeal to young patients.

Inspector Kim sets the daisies on the bedside table and smiles at the boy, wearing a patterned gown that looks too big. He’s been bathed, allowing the bruises to show on his tanned skin. His hair is glossy and catches the harsh fluorescent lights. “Hello. My name is Hyoyeon. I’m a police officer. May I sit?” He doesn’t say anything but shrugs. “How do you feel?” He shrugs again. “Can I get you anything?”

No matter what she asks or how she tries to engage him, the boy refuses to respond with anything other than a shrug or looking away. He looks to Minseok and tilts his head at the plush bear in his hand.

The detective stands and motions for Minseok to take her spot, walking to a nearby armchair.

Minseok sits with the beat on his lap. “I got you something as thanks for looking after my badge. You still have it?” The boy nods and eagerly digs under his pillow, producing the golden badge with a shy smile. “Good job! Thank you for taking care of it for me.” Minseok exchanges the bear for his badge, reattaching it to his uniform.

The boy touches the bear gently, rubbing his hands over the soft fur and plastic nose covered in velveteen material. He casts looks at Loey lying beside the bed and hides his face when he’s caught.

“You like Loey?” He nods. “He’s a police officer, too. Whenever he’s wearing that vest, he’s on duty.” Whistling, Minseok calls the Shepherd to his side and unclips the vest, patting the bed with his hand.

Loey leaps up easily and sniffs the boy and bear all over, tail wagging. The boy actually laughs, trying to hide his face from dog kisses.

“Down, Loey.” The Shepherd spins in place once and lies down alongside the boy’s legs with his head on the boy’s lap. His eyes close when the boy starts petting him, looking the most like a normal child since Minseok met him.

“What’s your name?”

“...Jongin.” Inspector Kim grins and eagerly makes a note in her notebook.

“Do you know your family name?” Jongin shakes his head slowly. “Do you think you’d recognize it if you heard it?” Half of the Korean people in South Korea bear the family name Kim, Lee, Park, or Choi. “Lee Jongin? Park Jongin? Kim Jongin?” His eyebrows rise behind his bangs. “Kim?” He nods. “That’s very good. It’s nice to finally know you, Kim Jongin.

“Did you know the man in that house with you?”

“Yes.”

“What was his name?”

“Jongdae hyung.”

“Kim Jongdae?” The detective offers an enthusiastic thumbs up and types something on her phone. “Did you live in that house?”

“No.”

“Where did you live?”

“Nowhere.”

“Not with your parents?”

“We don’t have any.” Loey whines softly, nosing at Jongin’s belly when he stops petting him. “It’s just me and hyung.”

A nurse knocks on the door, approaching Jongin’s bed with a wheeled apparatus to check his vitals. “I have to ask you to leave. Doctor’s orders are to let the patient rest.”

Minseok whistles as he stands, and Loey rather reluctantly hops to the floor and stands still for his vest. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Jongin. I promise.” Jongin holds out his hand, pinkie extended, and they shake on it. “Good night.”

Inspector Kim praises him in the hall while they wait for the nurse. “You handled that well.”

“I feel we didn’t get much information.”

“We’ve identified both the boy and the victim. A lot can come from just knowing names. He also responded to you while staying quiet with me and the nurse. He may not be used to women, which would make sense if he’s raised by his brother.” She stops the nurse with a raised hand. “His name is Kim Jongin. The victim was his brother.”

The nurse nods. “We’ve already contacted social services. Someone should be here tonight, yet, and they’ll look for family.”

“Thank you. Please let us know if anything changes,” she adds, offering a business card.

They ride the elevator once again and walk into the warm night. “I think we can call it a night. I expect autopsy results within the next couple of days. I’ll look into Kim Jongdaes and Kim Jongins, see if we have anything on either that is relevant.” She touches his arm. “Get some sleep.”

Minseok radios in just before the end of his shift and heads home. It’s late; he didn’t text his roommate again, so he hopes Lu Han didn’t worry.

In their apartment, he immediately removes Loey’s vest. The Shepherd shakes and sniffs his empty food dish. Minseok scoops kibble, shreds cold burger on top, and dumps it into the bowl as well as setting down fresh water.

Their arrival alerts the cats, who slink out from under the sofa or a closet to wind around Minseok’s legs and cautiously sniff Loey’s dinner.

He fully intends to shower and go to bed. He’s not even hungry anymore, but Minseok finds himself lounging in his pajamas on the sofa, instead, staring into space. Sleep just won’t come, even though he feels exhausted.

As a cop, his job is to serve and protect. It’s not just about catching bad guys. There are days when all he does is respond to call after call, driving from one part of the city to another. Other days, he’s with Loey at schools to demonstrate what it is they do as a special unit. One weekend a month, they go to training camp.

He would never even have Loey, if he wasn’t considered a good cop, but he feels like he let Jongin down. What kind of cop is he, if he can’t protect a scared little kid and his brother?

And what kind of life does that lack of reliability grant Jongin, now that his brother is dead?

Loey’s sigh draws him out of his thoughts, and he reaches down to scratch his ears.

His laptop is on the coffee table. He wakes it up and starts searching through Naver.

He sees Loey lift his head and hears the thump of his tail before he sees his room mate shuffle into the room.

“Hey,” Han greets with a yawn. “You’re back. Whatcha reading?” He leans over Minseok’s shoulder. “Foster parenting. Are you considering taking in that boy you found? Does he not have family?”

“We don’t know, but I just… If he doesn’t have anyone—no grandparents or aunts, uncles—then he is more likely to be sent to a foreign agency for adoption. We just don’t have enough unrelated foster families here.” the numbers are not encouraging. The government has tried to push for domestic foster care and established a few regional support centers, but the public isn’t educated nearly enough on the needs of at risk children.

And if Jongin was raised by his sole relation, who was also a drug addict, then odds are he’ll follow a similar lifestyle, because it’s the only one he’s ever known.

Minseok shakes his head.. “I just want to look into what he could be facing. I dunno. I felt something when I met him, and it’s stuck with me.”

Han nods and taps a finger on Minseok’s shoulder.“Your biological clock. That’s your bod telling you it’s time to become a daddy.” He shrugs when Minseok scowls at him. “I mean it! You’ve always loved kids. You were great with your little brother.”

“Joonmyun’s only a couple years younger than me. It’s not like I raised him.”

“Still. You’ve talked kids before. I honestly don’t know what’s stopped you. You’d be an amazing dad.”

“I just—I work. A lot.” Loey sighs in agreement. “It’s different if it was like marriage, because that’s another adult aware of my job and willing to put up with the hours and potential dangers. A kid… He’d have no idea. I can’t say that I’d be there anytime he needed me.” He closes the laptop and sighs. “I don’t know how parents do it.”

“They make time. They just do.” Han crosses his arms over the back of Minseok’s seat. “Does this mean you’d consider moving out?”

“What?”

“...I mean, I don’t mind if you adopt a kid or whatever, as long as they’re nice to the cats.” Han pokes his forehead. “You didn’t even think of that, did you?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “There’s a lot that goes into even being considered, and even if I applied to adopt him, I have no parenting history that’s relevant. What if my salary isn’t enough? Or having a roommate makes them reconsider?”

“I’m pretty sure your boss wouldn’t be against giving you a raise, and if living with a dude makes them uncomfortable, there’s a better agency to look after the kid.

“All you can do is try, man. You’re good at that.” He slaps a hand on Minseok’s shoulder. “But it’s better when you’re not tired. Go to bed.”

 

Minseok spends the morning at the hospital with Jongin. He gifts the boy a child-sized SMPD T-shirt, jeans, and summer sandals. A doctor and the social worker allow him to take Jongin to a park to play with Loey. Throwing a tennis ball and then a Frisbee, they work the Shepherd until he sprawls across the grass, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

After an early lunch for Minseok and late breakfast for Jongin, they return to the hospital, where Jongin doesn’t even try to hide his sadness at Minseok’s leaving. He wraps his arms as far around Minseok’s legs as he can and hugs him tight.

“I’ll be seeing you again, Jongin. Don’t worry. I still need you to do something for me, anyway—get better.” He’s being released tomorrow, into the care of social services. Minseok isn’t sure what it all entails, but the less Jongin has to move, the better.

Even Loey senses the mood, resisting a bit until Minseok whistles for him. He looks over his shoulder at Jongin’s hospital door, and his tail droops.

“I know, boy.” Minseok sighs. “You like him a lot.”

Their patrol seems to pass quickly to Minseok, distracted by thoughts of Jongin and the Kim Jongdae murder investigation. Jongin knows his brother is dead, but he didn’t know how when asked and only said his brother had told him to hide until he came to get him, which he didn’t for a day, although he still heard people.

Inspector Kim doesn’t call until two days after their initial meeting.

“I’m sorry it took so long, but my research didn’t pan out. It’s possible Jongin wasn’t born in a hospital or the records were lost; I didn’t find any blood relations between a Kim Jongdae and a Kim Jongin. Social services may have better luck with their own connections.

“However.” He can sense her smile through the phone. “Doctor Song sent me the full autopsy report and lab results. The particular recipe for that meth that killed Jongdae is unique.” Supplies and dealers are known to cut their product with additives to intensify or alter the effects of the drug or to make a cheaper and more dangerous drug for a greater profit. “The chemical analysis matches product from a raid in southern China. One of the leaders of the cartel there vanished just before the raid happened and has settled in Gangnam. He runs a club called ‘Ice.’”

“That’s bold.”

“I’ve already got a warrant to search the club. Wanna come along?”

“Send me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”

Ice is just outside the heart of Gangnam, decorated in shades of blue with white and crystalline accents. In the daylight, it’s incredibly gaudy.

Inspector Kim goes over their plan of entry, sending officers around the building in a perimeter. Everyone is wearing bulletproof vests, including Loey, who pants with excitement at Minseok’s heels. With his experience, he and Minseok are part of the breech team.

A man with a small metal battering ram slams the back door open, and Minseok falls behind Loey, ordering him to go ahead and search. Leveling his shotgun, he the others follow.

The back is filled with business equipment. The group splits off as rooms and hallways are discovered. Minseok follow Loey through the main floor, crossing a dance floor that could light up.

Loey barks; a man shouts. Minseok finds them behind the bar. The Shepherd stands close as the suspect is handcuffed.

“Good boy, Loey.”

The suspect groans and swears. “I think he broke my rib…”

“You’re lucky, then.” He drops to a crouch at the sound of gunfire, but it’s brief. Inspector Kim’s voice comes over the comms, giving the all clear. Minseok grabs the man’s arm and lifts him to his feet. He towers over Minseok, but he’s meek with Loey at his heels.

Minseok hands off his detainee to another officer and joins the detective inside the club. At the command, Loey drops his nose to the ground and sifts through the smells of spilled alcohol, sweat, and smoke. In the kitchen, he barks at a locked cabinet.

An officer breaks it open with a pry bar and opens the doors for Inspector Kim to look inside. Cardboard boxes sit in a neat pile. She pulls one down, peels off the tape, and Loey lays down.

“Look at all that powdered sugar,” she remarks wryly. “Good boy, Loey.”

No one arrested in the club knows anything. They insist that they’re innocent and had no idea there was hundreds of pounds of crystal meth in the kitchen. After an overnight stay in interrogation, one of the younger and newer members of the gang flips for a deal.

“There was this kid that was a customer. He said he had to quit for his little brother. Boss said that’s fine but never to come back. We found out he was living in that outside neighborhood and made an example of him.”

Minseok is grateful that Inspector Kim let him watch the interrogation, but he wishes he’d been allowed inside. With Loey’s persuasion, he’s confident that he could have gotten a confession much sooner, and he’s not ashamed of the thought. He knows a lot of his coworkers feel similarly. It takes a toll, treating monsters like human beings.

These monsters killed a kid trying to do his best for his family.

Case solved, Minseok hears whispers about commendations for himself and Loey. Cops including his boss buy the Shepherd treats. He poses nicely for his own feature article in the newspaper.

Minseok celebrates the end of the case more quietly. He returns to his patrol as usual, calls Jongin when he can’t visit him, and cleans out a room in their apartment.

He’s out on a run with Loey when his phone pings through his music, asking him to return. At the station, he’s surprised to see Jongin with the social worker. The boy beams when he sees him and runs to him from his chair, hugging his waist.

“Hey, Jongin!” He spots a gap in the boy’s toothy smile. “You’re missing something! Get in a fight?” Jongin giggles and shakes his head. “Loose tooth, huh?” He looks at the social worker. “Any luck with his family, yet?”

“No...it was just him and his brother.”

Minseok rubs Jongin’s back, and the boy returns to his seat, picking up a pencil and notebook. Loey takes a tentative step towards him but waits for Minseok’s command before joining Jongin and sitting by his chair.

He looks like any average child, although still a bit underweight. He smiles more often, shyly, and laughs when Loey his hands.

“Everyone else died from drug overdose or because of drugs.” She runs a hand through her hair, then tries to straighten back how it was again. “We’re digging pretty deep, but I’m afraid we won’t find anyone suitable. There are some cousins, much much older and in the southern end of the country. They haven’t responded to our calls.”

“What chance do I have?”

The social worker looks surprised. “In becoming a foster parent?”

Minseok shakes his head. “Adoption.”

She smiles. “It’s a lengthy process, but I think you’ve got a very good chance.”

“Jongin, can I ask you something important?” The boy nods and puts his pencil down. “It’s nothing bad—I am a little nervous, though. You know your hyung isn’t coming back, right?”

He nods and swallows thickly. Loey nudges his head under the boy’s hand..

“The people looking after you have found distant relatives; you don’t know them, and they don’t know you. You may be able to go live with them, if you want. Or,” he inhales deeply and sighs, “I’ve asked if I could take you in and adopt you. You could live with me and Loey...”

Jongin sniffles. His cheeks and eyes are pink.

“You wanna give it a try?” He offers his hand, pinkie extended. "I'll make a home for you, Jongin."

A pinkie wet with dog drool wraps tight around his.