[T/W]: visual depictions of violence/torture 

Jaehwan is a devil when it comes to any sort of interaction. 

Where Sanghyuk takes to socializing under the gentle guidance of Hongbin, and thrives listening quietly to quotidian conversations, Jaehwan has no such luck. Minki realizes this first hand when they’re going through Jaehwan’s testimony and every other sentence contains some sort of scathing phrase or condescending undertone.

He has zero fear of authority – even Officer Park doesn’t scare him, and apparently the officer was brought over from Seoul’s special division to clean up crime in the neighborhood singlehandedly. Because the national police knew that he could do the job. Singlehandedly. 

“I’ve been my whole life,” Jaehwan kicks back, taking a drag from his cigarette (which isn’t allowed, by the way, but no one can really tell Jaehwan what to do). “The trial will be no different. I’ll make ‘em with my charm and they wouldn’t even know what hit them, dude. I’ve got this under control. You should go talk to Sanghyuk instead, that dumb kid looks like he might piss his pants on the stand.” 

There is a certain degree of hatred Jaehwan holds towards Sanghyuk and Minki has no idea why, though he’s willing to take a guess. Jaehwan did get the shorter end of the stick, even if Sanghyuk had been a victim for longer. Because Sanghyuk now has a roof over his head, and food on his plate, and people to talk to. Jaehwan has had to sleep in public toilets, or beg for food money, and everyone knows there are no real friends on the streets. It’s not hard to see why resentment would exist.

“Sanghyuk is fine, Jaehwan.” Minki says exasperatedly. “Let’s focus on you.”                                             

“I don’t even know why I’m here today.” Jaehwan scoffs. “If you give me a laptop I can find you all the evidence you need.”                                              

Minki slides his laptop across the table. He knows Jaehwan can do it – Officer Park says someone has been sending them links anonymously over the last few years, with a gif of a sparkly, rotating middle finger signing off all the emails.

A few minutes later, Jaehwan slides it back, kicking back in his chair. The webpage is what Minki expected to see. Hundreds of videos of a certain #K-45. Even the thumbnails themselves are gruesome to say the least – there are blood smeared floors and outdoor scenes, locker room , dinner table ‘servicings’. Minki had already looked through them briefly (the only video he tried to watch had taken his dinner right out of him) and structured out notes he needed to present the evidence in court, but Jaehwan doesn’t know that. Well, Minki is going to play along.

“Let’s just check to make sure its you.” Minki looks up and he sees the blood in Jaehwan’s face drain. And as always, almost like a Pavlovian response when he’s trapped in a corner, Jaehwan gets angry.

“It’s definitely me.” He leans forwards, so close that Minki can smell the type of cigarette he’s smoking. Non-menthols.

Minki smirks. As much as Jaehwan is a toughass, he doesn’t quite know the last time he’s backed down from a fight. Must’ve been before law school, or maybe even before elementary school. “Then walk me through the scenes if you’re so sure it’s you.”

He clicks on a random one when he’s sure Jaehwan isn’t going to attack him across the table – one that looks the most horrible – where #K-45 is , arms bound by rope connected to ceiling rafters, and his back is all blood, dripping onto the floor.

“How do you know this is you?” He asks innocently.

Jaehwan pulls up his jacket sleeve, revealing a jagged burn scar. Then he points to the video – high definition (Minki wants to applaud the perpetrators. Real smart, real smart.) – and the scar on #K-45’s arm is clear as day.

“Okay, what happened in this scene?”                                                                                          

“What the do you mean what happened?” Jaehwan slams the table, and Minki watches amusingly as ashes from the cigarette land dangerously close to his fingers. “They’re ing whipping the out of me, .”

“Okay,” Minki flicks the ashes away. “How do we know you didn’t ask them to do it? Legitimate industries make videos like this all the damned time.” 

 “Because I told them to stop,” Jaehwan snarls. “What the hell are you missing here?”

“Well… in scenes they scream stop but they don’t really mean it, do they?”                            

There is a silence, and Jaehwan’s anger swells up like a balloon. Minki just smiles, trying to hold his ground as the rage and the pure hatred in Jaehwan’s eyes sends an uncomfortable, cold chill crawling down his spine.

Jaehwan, for once has nothing to say in anger and stands up, chair scraping against the floor. “I’m ing done.”

 “If the judge had asked you that question,” Minki says slowly, casually, off-handedly, just loud enough to be heard if Jaehwan just strained his ear over his own anger. “You could’ve said the video was uploaded in 2004. That would make you – what, 13? And you know what that means, don’t you?”

Jaehwan has stilled completely. And even though nothing dramatic is happening, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like it. The air is no longer oxygen; just ash falling and the smell of sulfur dioxide, choking out any humanely feeling from the room.

Minki knows its going to feel exactly like this during the trial. Jaehwan and Sanghyuk are going to be pushed; and Minki can try to push back, but he won’t mean anything against a team of lawyers unless Jaehwan and Sanghyuk are willing to help. But right now, Jaehwan’s fists are clenched at his sides, and Minki really hopes he’s not about to be punched. Because standing in the court with a black eye would be extremely awkward.

“I’m on your side. Don’t turn on me.” Minki says, a challenge simmering on his tongue, an arched eyebrow daring someone to tell him he’s wrong. 

Jaehwan bites the inside of his cheek, and a wry, lopsided smile appears. He takes out another cigarette and for the rest of the session he stands near the door, then leans on it, then slides down to the floor to talk to Minki from the corner of the room. He still doesn’t let up with the insults, and refuses to get back into the seat opposite the lawyer, instead smoking through his pack without stopping. They get through everything fairly quickly, circumstances considered, and Minki walks out of the room with at least a dozen more cases he can use in court.

But Hongbin can see the frazzle in his eyes the next time they meet.

“You’ve got to teach him how to deal with people,” Minki begs, in the middle of an empty office, where every other employee has gone home. “He’s going to destroy our whole case if he attacks or curses them out. They’re going to use his lack of sobriety or mental instability against him. I can promise you that.”

Hongbin promises he’ll try harder. But he doesn’t know how to try harder when Jaehwan isn’t responding to any of his efforts. It’s like trying to push a building to the ground with his bare hands.

Minki and Hongbin both try not to hate Jaehwan, even through his tantrums, and outbursts of crude, and random disappearances. They tolerate his empty promises of cutting down on alcohol, and Hongbin tries not to say anything when Jaehwan looks straight at him and insults Sanghyuk.

That’s the thing with Jaehwan. Everything he does, he does with a certain playfulness, almost as if he genuinely thinks everything is a joke. Jaehwan stares at a person silently and somehow always knows where to dig to find the treasure. He pushes and prods and taunts until he knows the weakest parts of a person. Then he sinks his fists in and enjoys the pain he can cause with a twinkling smile in his eyes.

Minki and Hongbin really try very hard not to hate Jaehwan. But he makes it so damned easy.

***

Officer Park sets up a system with the homeless shelter. Jaehwan has to check in before the shelter closes at 9pm – not drunk, or at least sufficiently sober – if not the Officer checks in on Jaehwan himself. The system obviously fails, because out of seven days a week, it’s guaranteed that Jaehwan doesn’t check in on at least four.

They try a million other things – Officer Park even lets him sleep in one of the interrogation rooms for an entire week. But night after night he doesn’t show up no matter who’s waiting for him; just slinks away into the darkness as if he was always a part of it and never left. Hongbin can’t take him in for obvious reasons, and neither can Minki, since Minki is never home. Hongbin asks Nakhun, but Byungjun is already staying over since Daewon has new clients. The company has spare rooms but you need an electronic key card to get in and on the first day, Jaehwan had already melted down the thin plastic, claiming it was an accident.

Winters are hard on the streets.

Jaehwan has survived too many winters on his own so far. But he does that by relying on alcohol. And that’s not really an outcome that Minki wants.

Then Wonshik volunteers himself for the job, without really knowing what it is they’re doing. It could’ve been attributed to Hongbin’s gift of the gab, or to Wonshik’s hilarious naivety, but either way, Hongbin is pretty sure Wonshik has a new mess on his hands.  

***

At first, Minki doesn’t know where to start with Sanghyuk’s evidence. Sanghyuk had promised him that there was some sort of uploading to a website – the only thing is, unlike Jaehwan, Sanghyuk doesn’t know what website it might be. Minki could risk a search warrant, but looking at the bigger picture, he’s afraid the website might be taken down as a result of the raid, and then no physical copies would be left. These days, no one really keeps CDs anymore.

But he suddenly gets an unexpected email one day, with two clips of someone that is very distinctly a younger Sanghyuk. The person in the email – a Daewon – asks to meet up, and when they do meet, he passes him a hard drive. In it, a few hundred gigabytes of videos.

Daewon returns to his office, texts Hongbin not to drop by tonight, and starts on an overnight haul of case notes. By the morning, Sanghyuk’s file is almost comparable to Jaehwan’s. He makes a lethargic call to Officer Park, and tells him to apply for a search warrant.

Turns out Officer Park already has one.