“So what do you guys think? It’s a great idea, isn’t it?”

 

Head Detective Lee Yunho stood at the front of the room, eyes nervously scraping the entire party of grim looking police officers and detectives as he finished his announcement. Detective Yunho was a tall man with youthful radiance and a thin smile. His dark hair curled neatly to his temples and complimented his deep set brown eyes. Being heavily broad shouldered, he tried to minimize this intimidation factor of his by donning a pair of gray lined slacks and a tucked in white thinly hemmed work shirt. A recurring feature in everyone who saw Detective Yunho for the first time was that they would gingerly lean over to set their mouths upon the ears of a neighbouring police officer or detective and ask why the Head Detective was so much younger than most of the other precinct detectives and why he was so good-looking. This is especially evident in women. To these questions, police officers would find their mouths automatically responding without thought through numerous experiences, like a disembodied organ: He’s the Head Detective because he is a genius.

 

Detective Yunho had applied for the Swiss Defense Forces during his five years in Switzerland when he was barely eighteen years old and then directed himself to the Policing and Criminal Affairs apartment after a year in the forces. After showing promise as a capable and talented officer he transferred himself back to Korea when he was twenty years of age and got pulled into the flow of fresh officers that received a place in the Seoul Precinct. During his time there he established a good relationship with the sunbae detectives and often received lovecalls from the Superintendent who acknowledged his ability to work and his sharp logical mind, however it was the notorious CASE 639KX that unrolled the ladder for Yunho to climb – to the position of Head Detective. However, no one talked about it now, older detectives who had gone past their prime and were now working as helping hands for extra work dipped their heads and clamped their mouths when asked about the case. All Minho knew was that the former Head Detective had been tangled up in a nasty case, and after it had been resolved – he asked everyone in the precinct to never speak a word of it again.

 

Minho sat at the very back of the small conference room with his head nestled between his collarbone and his shoulder – melted on the wooden bench of which he shared with several other police officers. From here he could only make out a bobbing tuft of hair at the front of the room where Detective Yunho was standing.

The detective next to him raised his hand.

“Detective Jung?”

“Head Detective Lee, are you trying to tell us we’re all going to a pension for some healing?”

Murmurs echoed around the room at this statement, few men and women shuffled in the seats and inclined their heads towards the man at the front of the room for an answer.

 

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying Detective Jung, haven’t you been listening all this time? I’ll explain it again. You see, the Incheon Police Department will be coming to Seoul for a few days next week and they’ll need the full resource of this precinct for their investigations. I’ve been told we’ll need to vacate the precinct while they remain in Seoul and so this means normally there would be no work for the whole week. However I think – and especially since the tragic death of our fellow precinct detective – we’ve all been stringed up tight. The mood in the precinct nowadays is quite rotten – don’t you agree? It’s only for two days at most, and we’ll do some honing and fitness training there. It is expected that everyone come, however the older detectives and officers are allowed to pass up on this one. This’ll also be a good chance for freshmen to get closer to their sunbaes and vice versa. Now, I’m going to ask again – what do you think?”

Unlike with the constant flitting chatter that filled the room previously, it was now dead quiet. Detective Yunho’s eyes wandered again, around the room. After a short pause he let out an exasperated sigh and threw the paper he was holding onto the floor.

“Even if I receive no answer from the lot of you, we’re all still going. Any of you who do not show up next week, be aware.”

With this he sent a frightening glare ray around the room, taunting and haunting every pairs of eyes it made contact with and then stomped out of the room with his shoulder’s hunched and fists balled.

‘Even though he is a genius, sometimes he can be a really childish Head Detective – especially with these occasional tantrums.’ Minho thought as he got up from his seat and joined the line to leave the room.

 

A week later, Minho found himself standing in a small, cosy wood-stock cabin with Detective Onew infront of him. Detective Onew slumped his bag on the side of one of the two beds in the cabin and reclined to the striped hammock that was hooked onto both of the opposite walls of the room.

This cabin lay nestled within it’s own kind – a nest of similar looking cabins that resided in a clump together at the end of a small plot of land. Each cabin had three rooms which were all opened up to each other – a shared bedroom, a mixed kitchen and laundry area and a narrow bathroom. The bedroom had numerous alcoves carved out of the wooden walls, making the illusion that the room was bigger. There were two queen sized beds with drab teal coloured linen and a thin white cover. Between the beds lay a cramped-looking cabinet made of strong red wood. The kitchen lacked the majority of utensils that would be needed to cook up a simple dish and only presented a meagre filling of two matching tea cups, a set of wine glasses, an old kettle and a single pair of silver chopsticks. There was a small hidden microwave at the back of the mug hooks and a mini fridge that stood isolated at the side of the bedroom with only a small portable television stand and the hammock for company. The bathroom was narrow however quite long like a mini corridor. It held a full set of a bathtub, shower, two sinks and a toilet.

Minho arrived back at the bedroom where Onew lay on his hammock after looking around the cabin and stood infront of his own bed. Onew had his earphones plugged into his ears and was bobbing his head to his music which was profoundly audible to the other in the room. They had just come back from their fitness training and were getting ready to go to bed for the day. Onew had calmly agreed that Minho use the shower first despite the other party’s concerned and modest disapproval. The conversation had gone like this:

 

“Minho-goon, you can wash up first, I don’t mind going after you. “

“No, hyung should go first, I have some work to catch up on and I’ll probably stay up late. Anyway it’s rude to have hyung shower after me, after all I’m your hoobae.”

“I was thinking of catching up on some sleep anyway, just go.”

“No but – “

“If we keep arguing like this we might as well end up going together to the bathroom. I’ll use the bath and you can use the shower. We’re both men, after all. Would you like that though?”

“…I guess I’ll go first then, hyung.”

 

Minho shuddered at the thought of going into the bathroom stark with the person who he still suspected of having something to do with Jonghyun’s car accident and tossed the thought away as he entered the bathroom with towels and his bag of toiletries.

After washing up he dried his hair and exited the bathroom with a wind of steam escaping out after him.

The scent of Minho’s fragrant shampoo invaded Onew’s nostrils and he pulled out his earphones and stared at his junior’s toned upper half body.

After realising the extra pairs of eyes on his body, Minho quickly grabbed a shirt from the end of his bed and proceeded to pull it on.

Onew averted his eyes and smiled at his junior’s innocent embarrassment before grabbing his own clothes and making his way into the already steam filled bathroom.

Minho plopped himself onto his bed and the television before flipping through various channels. His eyes were focused on the television screen however his mind wandered off on the thoughts of Onew and Jonghyun. His detective instinct pulled his body up from the bed and his fingers and toes tingled with cold as he moved towards Onew’s side of the room. By now he could hear the splash of water and the constant rain like audio coming from the bathroom.

Every officer was told to bring his or her gun to the pension, it was customary that an officer should never part of his or her gun. Minho had spied Onew slip his gun into the small drawer at the side of his bed. He plied the drawer open and with ginger fingers he plucked out the gun from the barrel with a piece of cloth between his fingers. It was smooth and ice cold – there was no sign of it having been recently fired. He placed it back into the drawer, his eyes now drawn to a foreign looking object laying on the hammock that had preciously catered to Onew’s sleeping body. It was a hard cover book, however there were pieces of scrap paper stuck at awkward positions between pages. Minho slipped out a piece of the paper – there was something written on it.

Minho dropped the book quickly back onto the hammock- honestly shocked and surprised from his own intuitive over-curiosity. He backed away and leaned against the bathroom door – the water had stopped. As he was making his way make to his side of the room, his legs stopped and froze in place. His heart beat rapidly, and Minho’s eyes slid back to the gun in the drawer. If he wanted to progress in finding out what happened to Jonghyun, he knew he only had this chance. With a heavy heart and light steps, Minho returned to the drawer next to Onew’s bed and pulled out the cold gun, replacing it with his own. He then made his way to the hammock where he gingerly pulled out a few pieces of paper and slipped the book under the hammock.

Minho was just about to walk away when the bathroom door opened sharply, causing Minho to swerve and push his body against the wall in order to avoid getting slammed in the face by the door. Onew looked around the room as he exited the bathroom dressed wetly in an oversized t-shirt and his boxers. He rubbed at his drying hair with a white towel as he faced Minho, pressed against the wall with a stern facial expression.

“What are you doing, Minho-gun?”

Minho tightened his grip on the object that he held in his sweaty hands behind his back and slid along the wall slowly.

“You sure shower fast, Onew-hyung. I was just about to lie on the hammock, but I guess I won’t,”

Minho hastily switched his grip on the gun and rolled up papers and brought the objects infront of him as he turned directions.

“No, don’t worry. I’m just about to go to sleep, you can use it.”

Onew kept his gaze on Minho’s moving body for a few seconds before tearing his eyes away and plopping down on his own bed.

“It seems like he didn’t notice” thought Minho as he shoved the gun and papers in the mesh holder of his suitcase.

“What were you hiding behind your back?”

Minho’s heart crystallised as Onew turned to look at him, his face half curtained by his sharp bangs and the top of a free magazine. He had almost a nonchalant expression painted on his face – his mono-lidded eyes pearly and tired.

“Why do you need to know?” Minho avoided the question and proceeded to tidy his clothes around the foot of his bed.

 “Nothing, just looked like you were hiding something, that’s all. As your sunbae, I kind of feel a bit worried.”

“Well, if you really want to know that badly, it was my underwear. I thought it was a bit awkward if you saw me walking around with them.”

Minho’s teeth remained gritted as he waited for Onew’s response.

The older man didn’t respond for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. Onew bent over in sheer amusement, eventually hitting his head on the high bed-post.

“It was your underwear. I see. I guess it was silly of me to think you were hiding something important behind your back.”

Onew stared at Minho and then burst into another fit of uncontrolled laughter.

Minho’s cheeks were tight and rosy, reddening from sudden embarrassment. He slipped off his shirt quickly and pulled the bed covers around his body and up to his chin.

“Underwear is important though.”

Onew snickered as he slipped off his own shirt and walked to the middle of the room to turn off the lights.

Minho glanced quickly at the older man’s upper body which was surprisingly very pale, skinny and flat with a few emerging bumps in the abdomen area, unlike his own tanned and toned body.

As the lights flicked off, Minho heard Onew’s soft footsteps as he made his way carefully back to his own bed.

There was a moment of silence as both of them curled up in their beds and closed their eyes – getting ready for a night where they would have to share a room with another warm body – something both of them were not used to as they both lived alone.

After a silent minute, Onew muffled a soft goodnight.

“You too, hyung”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minho lugged his suit case into the corridor of his apartment as he swung his tote bag onto the lounge in front of him. Leaving his suitcase near the door, he melted himself into the recliner that lay neatly in line with the tall windows tiering over the bustling, neon city of Seoul. For a moment the only thing that Minho did was stare at the cream hued ceiling and scrub at his cheeks which were feeling dry and wind-broken. His hand slid into his tote bag at the foot of the recliner, his fingers searching for his moisturising cream bottle however instead they met a cold and foreign object half-way down his bag. Minho’s hands and stopped and he pulled them out along with the foreign object.

It was Onew’s gun.

 Minho immediately dropped the gun, pulling his hands back to his chest where he curled his fingers in shock and frustration. He stared at the gun for a few seconds, lying with black contrast to the beige carpet that floored his whole apartment. He could almost see his own finger-prints smudged all over the barrel and down the side of the gun, near the trigger. He left the gun on the floor and ped the front pocket of his bag bring out a semi-crumpled pile of papers. Minho’s eyes frantically studied the black printed words on the front of the pages. The edges of the papers skimmed over Minho’s previous paper cut as he threw them across the room and stood up.

They were Onew’s tax return papers. A few pages of them now lay at the bottom of Minho’s desk, now even more crumpled than before.

His two principle chances to unravel the mystery of Jonghyun’s death were now gone. He had made two foolish mistakes whilst retrieving the gun from his bag. The first was that he had practically covered the whole gun with his own fingerprints, masking any previous ones that had been there before him. The second was dropping the gun on his new, soft carpet – which could have potentially wiped off the remaining sections of older fingerprints. He could still try and give it to Chanyeol to analyse, however Minho doubt that he could find anything after how much he himself had touched it, and also, Minho knew at the back of his mind that if he was going to make Chanyeol help him on other forensic errand he would have to tell him about his investigations and his suspicion on Detective Onew which could possibly become the precinct’s new gossip topic if it ever came out of Chanyeol’s talkative mouth.

Minho left the two objects on his glass dining table before loosening his neck tie and switching on the television. Bright flashing lights engulfed the screen and a woman’s voice rang through his ears.

“At approximately three to four in the morning last Saturday night, a rolled-over car was found at the side of a serpentine on Mount Geun. The two passengers inside were both killed on impact as their car seemingly tumbled down the side of the mountain after losing it’s tire grip on the muddy road due the torrential storm that had taken place early that night. The two passengers included Seoul Precinct detective Kim Jonghyun and another woman who’s identity is currently unknown. Detectives from Seoul Precinct are currently trying to figure out the unknown identity of the woman as well as pinpoint the direct cause of the accident. Authorities are labelling this a tragic accident for now. I’m Park Hwayoon from KNN news.”

Minho’s eyes sharpened as photographs of Jonghyun’s crumpled red car flashed onto the screen.

He was just about to switch off the television when his mobile vibrated in his back pocket.

Could it be Onew?

Minho hesitantly squeezed the phone out of his back pocket and looked at the screen. The number was unknown. He swiped the screen.

“Hello?”

“Is this…Detective Choi Minho?”

The voice that responded his greeting startled Minho. It was cold, raspy and hoarse, as if the speaker had not drunken water in weeks.

“Speaking.”

“I heard that you were…in charge of the Kim Jonghyun car accident case?”

Minho clenched his jaw. He wasn’t in charge of Jonghyun’s case – that was Onew. But the person on the other side of the call didn’t need to know that.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Do you have anything you want to tell me about that case? Or any information about the case?”

“Well, as a matter of fact I do.”

“Tell me”

“No, Detective. I can’t tell you hear, not with all the people listening.”

Minho froze. The speaker’s voice had become almost velvety now – washing away the previous coarse audio from his throat. What did he mean by people listening?

“What people?”

“You never know whether your mobile is bugged, Detective. This is also very confidential information, regarding my personal information and details. I don’t want to reveal them to the whole world, Detective, if you can understand.”

“Okay, then. Where do you want to meet?”

“That’s better. Now, I’m afraid that the only place that I would feel comfortable meeting in my own house. But as you know, I do not want to disclose my address. I will mail you, Detective. I will mail you and you will receive a letter from me in your letterbox at your precinct. I will mail you the date, time and place, and I expect you to respect those details and to be punctual. Then, I shall be expecting mail from you.”

“What mail?”

“My payment, Detective. Surely you do not think you can get your hands on this private yet important information for nothing.”

“As a citizen, any information you have regarding a crime is also my information. I have the right to any information, sir, for free.”

The speaker on the other side snickered.

“I want 2 million won, Detective.”

“No. I will be disrespecting my role as a Detective if I give you the money. As important as your information sounds, I won’t need it. I can figure out the case by myself. Good bye.”

Mino sighed and began closing the conversation off until there was a loud, static noise coming from the other side of the call. He put the mobile back to his ear.

The speaker’s voice now had a slight tone of desperation.

“I witnessed the crime, detective. I know who the culprit is and if this interests you, I know that the culprit is one of your fellow detectives.”

Minho’s hands lost their grip and the mobile clashed onto his beige floor – as the gun had also previously done so – as Minho’s eyes widened and his lips pursed forcibly. He balled his hands to tight clenches, his lips pulling up to a pleasant yet melancholy smile.

He picked his mobile back up and cleared his throat.

“How much again?”

“Now, we’re talking. I said I wanted 2 million won. Can you get that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I can. Just mail me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

 With that Minho ended the call and fell back against his lounge. If this was a dream, it was a sad, yet pleasant dream.

 

 

“Where are you going?”

Minho froze in mid-step and turned around to the pale face of Goo Hara, the new intern in Seoul precinct. Her silver eyes trained on Minho as she pursed her lip.

“Business. I have business to do in Gyeonggi-do.”

Hara flicked through the papers of the documents on her desk without looking up.

“What kind of business?”

“Private…business,”

Minho hesitated to continue walking, and instead stayed by Hara’s chair until she looked up again.

Minho studied her features quietly. She had a thin and pallid face with only her plump, vermillion lips and strangely silver eyes to balance out the colour on her face. Her hair line was straight, her roots branching off into thin strands of curled brown locks that hung over her shoulder in a neat and organised daily pose. The way she carried herself had a grand aura, always turning heads with her warm, floral fragrance with her arms tucked in into the crook of their elbows. Even though she was an intern – an occupation generally disliked in the precinct by detectives and other officials, Hara’s presence in the room never seemed to bother anyone, and in fact, she created an atmosphere of grandeur and warmth wherever she went.

Today she was wearing a cool, office dress with high shoulder pads and stripes of gold and blue snaking down the sides and around her waist.

“Is something wrong, Detective Choi?”

Minho lifted his eyes from her waist back to her eyes and blinked before clearing his throat.

“No, but you seem very interested in the identity of my business.”

“And you, Detective, seem very interested in the clothes I’m wearing today.”

A bright pink blush flushed over Minho’s face as he turned away.

“You always wear such flashy clothing when you come into the precinct, why don’t you try wearing a coat for once.”

“I feel like you would be disappointed if I did.”

A thin smile erupted between her bright lips.

A hand planted itself onto Minho’s shoulder and he turned around.

Onew’s cold face stared Minho in the eyes before his wide face cracked into a grin as he slapped Minho gently on the neck.

“My apologies for disrupting your flirt session, however I seem to have misplaced something. I was wondering if you had seen it.”

“We weren’t flirting!” Minho exclaimed whilst Hara smiled widely.

“Sure. Now, I’ve lost my tax return papers. The last time I saw them, I think, was on my desk – or maybe it was at the pension, I don’t remember. Have you seen them?”

Hara shook her head slowly and looked around as if to mimic the act of trying to search for the papers. Minho just continued to stare Onew in the eyes.

“No. Sorry, I don’t think we have seen them.”

Onew turned toward Minho once more before heartily shaking his shoulder, rubbing his fingers into Minho’s thick, black trench coat.

“Thanks.”

Minho’s lips trembled as he turned away.

 

 

The sun had just set at the portly time of 6:45pm the next evening, spraying the twilight skies with an iridescent glow that bounced up from the brackish waters of the harbour. Boats bobbed gently n their mellow fashion against the disagreeing ocean waves that rolled into the piers. The forthcoming of the evening had set an overall facetious mood for the rest of the night, young dates began to freckle the harbour as the pier stores close up for the day, leaving the harbour to the finely scattered bars and clubs that glowed perpetually throughout the night.

Minho stepped onto a harbour pier and gazed into the water, rolling in in a slight lilting manner. He felt almost sedated; the sultry air softened his shoulders and added to his tranquil mood. He found himself thinking about Jonghyun and about his tragic death that made his wince and bite his lip. He would have to drive past the cemetery that held Jonghyun’s grave on his way to the mysterious caller’s house address. He had gotten an anonymous email the day before that had contain the address, date and time for the meeting.

Minho stepped off the pier and hurried back to his car, parked on the side next to one of the frivolous looking bars on the fringe of the harbour walk. He was about to enter his car when a force slammed against his shoulders and brought his face in contact with the glass window of his car. Two thin hands clung to his shoulders and brought him back to his position. Minho held his cheek as he looked up to his assailant. What he saw were two translucent orbs reflecting light back into his eyes under a tuft of lavender hair. The man swung his hand around his face and pulled off his sunglasses revealing his surprisingly soft and suave eyes. The man could have been no more than 20 years old and had a cleaved face with skin stretched over his outstanding cheekbones and pearly lids that marked his tendency and tolerance toward alcohol. The man gave Minho a galling half-smile and waved his floppy hand as a gesticulation as if to apologise. It was evident that he was intoxicated as he swung his arm over the shoulders of the girl beside him and slid off in his acid-washed skinny jeans and lurid jacket.

Minho let out an exasperated sigh and pulled himself into the driver’s seat. The sight of the drunken man with electric dyed hair who had accidentally knocked into him was in exorable as he drove off, quietly cursing the bad habits of young people.

Minho had driven steadily for around twenty minutes before his eyes caught site of the brassy green road sign that protruded from behind grassy hills. It read: Yoo-in Cemetery.

Minho made a swift turn into the cemetery that lay behind the hills and proceeded to cruise along the lines of macabre gravestones.

 

 

 

 

Many had bouquets of flowers laid infront of them and a lot more did not. Many were old and crumbled in mildew and others stood at a crooked angle, newly set into the soft dirt. He knew where Jonghyun’s grave was, he had visited three or four times during the days after Jonghyun’s funeral. It was at the right side of the pasture of cemetery, you could even see it as you were driving past on the high way. It was a more corpulent and rounded gravestone than the rest and was inordinately large. The last time Minho had visited there had been a few neatly arranged flowers at the side of the gravestone and a child had left a few bottles of milk and scented lavender.

Minho turned into the section of the cemetery where Jonghyun’s grave was however braked suddenly at the sight of the grave.

Detective Onew could be seen kneeling down infront of Jonghyun’s grave, with his head down in a disconsolate fashion. His strawy brown hair hung limp infront of his eyes, which were closed tightly.

Minho found his lips twitch into a benign half smile as he sat stagnant in his car, watching Onew from afar.

So even callous Detective Onew can have sentimental feelings too, huh.

Thinking back, Onew and Jonghyun had been very close and would confide in each other for advice, Onew must have been dealt a big blow when Jonghyun died, but he must have hidden it for the sake of his hoobaes whom he didn’t want to lose hope.

Minho took a deep breath and made a sharp U-turn and headed back down the path to exit the cemetery. He didn’t want to disturb Onew’s show of heart, however at the same time there was a feeling of ambivalence rising up in the pit of his stomach. Minho’s throat clenched as he turned into the highway. All this time he had been suspected Onew to have something to do with Jonghyun’s death, however witnessing this scene at Jonghyun’s grave had changed his suspicions almost 180 degrees and flipped Minho’s mind on end. Could someone who had bad intentions or ulterior motives in another’s death be as altruistic enough to visit another’s grave?

Minho shook his head roughly and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. ‘The matter at hand now is finding out more information by paying a visit to the mysterious caller’, Minho thought. After he had learned some more, maybe his suspicions might change.