Minho dried his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His beard was gone. His hair was freshly washed. He could sense the smell of soap that filled the bathroom. Minho felt clean, maybe even a bit relaxed. Onew was right. Tae would want him to take care of himself. The younger used to say, the worse you felt, the better you need to dress up yourself.

Letting his body fall on the bed, Minho felt how his eyelids became heavier with every second. He groaned, for his feet were killing him. He was searching the wood the whole day by foot. Never in his life had Minho walked so much. He had taken Onew’s advice and came home, took a shower, and got some rest, but he hadn’t given up on looking for Tae.

Minho didn’t realise when he had fallen asleep. Maybe he was just too tired. As he was woken up by his ring tone, it was already morning. The sunlight was so blinding, Minho covered up his eyes with his arm, trying not to be ripped away from his sleep. He asked himself whether it was worth it to answer the phone yet in one split second he remembered it could be about Tae. And he was right.

“They found a corpse,” the voice on the phone said. In one blink, all the tiredness was gone. Minho jumped up and gathered all his stuff, heading to the morgue.

Minho walked through the hallway, following the assistant who was leading the way. Minho understood why they sent someone to guide him for this building was a maze. There were so many corridors and they all seemed randomly placed. The lack of signposts wasn’t helping either. They were in the basement, thus there were neither windows nor a slight sunlight. However, darkness and its cold fitted this place well. Even the air seemed to be colder than outside, and it smelled like sanitizer. It smelled like death. Although death was a common part of his life, Minho felt uncomfortable in this place.

“We’re here,” said the assistant as he asked Minho to wait at the door and went in to inform the doctor. It didn’t take long until a short man stood before him. He was barely 1,65m tall. His face was heavily wrinkled, and his skin was pale as if he hadn’t seen the sun for his entire life. His hair was fully grey that parts of his scalp were visible. The man looked like death itself.

“Good morning, Mr. Choi” greeted the doctor with a high pitched voice that didn’t fit his appearance a bit, and Minho did his best not to laugh.

“Good morning,” he replied.

“Please come in,” the man said, and Minho entered the room. Immediately, he noticed the body on the table, covered with a white sheet. The gang leader didn’t realise he had stopped walking.

“Is that him?” Minho asked. The doctor nodded.

“I should warn you. He was in the water for a very long time which means he wouldn’t be the way you remembered him.”

Minho gulped. It wasn’t the first time for him to see a dead body, but he had never felt this way before. It was hard to breathe, and his legs were shaking.

“Ready?” The old man asked, hands holding the fabric. Minho nodded, and the doctor pulled aside the sheet. Minho clenched his teeth by the sight of the body. The skin-color was a mix of blue, green, and grey. A musty smell penetrated in his nose. The person on the table was wearing a white shirt, navy blue jeans, and black chucks. The white shirt had almost turned mud brown. Some green leafs stuck in his shoes. The left pant leg was ripped, and Minho could see a deep cut under the jeans. On his left ring finger, this person was wearing Tae’s wedding ring, the only ring in the whole world that matched his for they were a batch production. No, this wasn’t Tae. This couldn’t be Tae.

“Is that him?” The doctor asked, and Minho froze. He had to admit, this person wore the same cloths as Tae did as he fell down the cliff. The height and even the body build was the same. Still, Minho rejected to believe that this was his Tae.

“Show me his face,” the leader demanded.

“Are you sure? You don’t want to remember him this way,” warned the old man.

“Show me his face,” insisted Minho.

“As you wish,” replied the doctor before fully pulled the sheet off the body. Minho gasped at the sight in front of him. The face was as swollen as the rest of the body. The nose was broken and almost cut off till the point it was only linked to the face by the last string of skin. Even the skin looked like it was about to fall apart. The old man was right. This face was in an unrecognizable condition.

Minho’s eyes wandered automatically to the body’s forehead. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed the cut over the right eyebrow, a deep cut that now appeared much bigger and deeper due to the water. This person was indeed in the river for a very long time, Minho could tell.

Every logically part of his mind told him this man lying on the metal table was Tae. Still, something in him, may it be his instinct or his wishful thinking, told him that it wasn’t Tae.

“Is that Kim Kibum?” the doctor asked one more time after Minho kept silent for a long moment.

“Yes, that’s him,” answered Minho before turning around, leaving that cold, sticky room.  

The old man watched another heartbroken person leaving this place, something that was his daily routine.

“At least you were loved,” said the doctor to the young man on his table before covering him up again.

His hand tensed up for a second as a loud bang surprised him. The door flung open and Minho stood in front of it. With one hand, he held the door open, so he could talk to the doctor without entering that room again.

“When can I take him home?” The gang leader asked.

“Whenever you want,” answered the doctor.

After arranging “Kibum’s” return, Minho got back in his car, and the first thing he did was calling Dr. Song.

“I need you to run a DNA test for me,” said Minho.

“I’ll get you that DNA sample.” He told his family doctor. In contrast to what he said to the old man that reminded him too much of death, Minho doubted that body was Tae. Yet, there was one thing he knew for sure, if Tae was out there and alive, he would be safe if his uncle a