Jung (5)

I sit in the interrogation room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as Officer Dong takes a seat across from me. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there's a warmth in his eyes that tells me he trusts me, that he knows I'm not the one responsible for the horrors we've uncovered.

But still, he has a job to do, and I know that he can't let our friendship or his gut instincts interfere with protocol. He takes out a small, leather-bound notebook and flips it open, his pen poised and ready.

"Alright, Park," he says, his voice steady and professional. "I know this is just a formality, but I need you to walk me through everything that happened. How did you end up at Lee So-hyun's apartment, and what did you see when you got there?"

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm and focused as I recount the events of the past few hours. I tell him about my grandmother's concerns, about the strange encounter with Jung, and about the missing person report that had been filed and then withdrawn.

Throughout it all, Dong listens intently, his expression unreadable as he jots down notes. But even as I pour out my story, I can't shake the feeling of dread that's been building in my gut, the terrible fear that something may have happened to my grandmother.

Just as I'm about to ask Dong if there's been any word from the officer who went to check on her, the door to the interrogation room swings open, and a young, fresh-faced detective stumbles in. He's clearly new to the job, his movements awkward and unsure as he approaches Dong with a file clutched tightly in his hand.

"Officer Dong," he says, his voice trembling slightly. "I have some information on the victim from Lee So-hyun's apartment."

Dong looks up, his brow furrowed as he takes the file from the young detective's hand. He flips it open, his eyes scanning the pages with a practiced efficiency.

"It looks like the dead man was Lee So-hyun's husband," he says, his voice low and serious. "A man named Jung."

I feel like the world is tilting on its axis, my mind reeling with the implications of his words. If the dead man was Jung, then who was the man I met at Jung's apartment? The pieces of the puzzle are shifting and rearranging themselves in my mind, but I can't quite make them fit.

I suddenly feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. I glance at Dong, my eyes pleading for permission to answer.

He nods, his expression serious but not unkind. "Go ahead," he says, his voice low and steady.

I nod, my heart pounding as I pull out my phone and see my grandmother's name flashing on the screen. I take a deep breath and answer, my voice shaking slightly as I speak.

"Grandmother?" I say, my words echoing in the small, cramped room. "Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Minjun," she says, her voice tinny and distant through the speaker. "I got caught up talking to some of the neighbors on the street. You know how I am, always chatting away."

I feel a wave of relief wash over me, but it's quickly replaced by a sense of urgency and dread. "Grandmother," I say, my voice low and serious. "Did you go to Jung's apartment? Did you see him there?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I'm afraid that the call has been lost. But then my grandmother's voice comes through again, hesitant and unsure.

"No, Minjun," she says, her words slow and measured. "There was no one home when I got there. I just left the food in front of the door and came back down. Why? Is something wrong?"

I take a deep breath, my mind racing with the implications of her words. If the man I met at Jung's apartment wasn't Jung, and if the real Jung is lying dead in Lee So-hyun's home...

"Grandmother," I say, my voice firm and commanding. "I need you to go straight home and wait for me there. Don't talk to anyone, don't stop anywhere. Just go home and lock the doors. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I can hear the fear and confusion in her voice as she agrees, promising to do as I say. As I hang up the phone, I turn to Dong, my expression grim and determined.

"The man I met at Jung's apartment," I say, my words tumbling out in a rush. "He claimed to be Jung, but now I'm not so sure. If the dead man in Lee So-hyun's apartment is the real Jung, then who was the man I talked to? And what does he have to do with all of this?"

Dong nods, his pen flying across the pages of his notebook as he jots down every detail. "This is getting more complicated by the minute," he says, his voice low and serious. "But I think you're right. There's something fishy going on here, and we need to get to the bottom of it."

He looks up at me, his expression torn between his duty as an officer and his trust in me as a friend. "I'm going to let you go, Park," he says, his voice heavy with the weight of his decision. "But I need you to understand that this is an active investigation, and that you're still on the suspect list. I'll have to notify your unit about what's happened here."

I nod, my jaw set with determination. "I understand," I say, my voice steady and resolute. "And I'm willing to help in any way I can. But right now, I need to make sure my grandmother is safe."

Dong nods, his expression softening slightly. "Go," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Take care of your grandmother. And be careful out there, Park. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."

I nod, my heart pounding as I race out of the interrogation room and into the night. As I make my way through the streets, my mind is racing with thoughts of my grandmother, of Lee So-hyun, and of the twisted mystery that seems to be unfolding before us.

***

As I hurry through the dimly lit streets, I suddenly feel a familiar presence stirring in the back of my mind. It's Bundy, his voice dripping with sarcasm and dark amusement.

"Looks like the big shot detective isn't so untouchable after all. I thought you'd be calling the shots by now, Park. But it seems like you're still just a cog in the machine, bound by rules and regulations like everyone else," he drawls, his words echoing in my head like a sinister whisper.

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the mocking tone in his voice. But deep down, I know he's right. Despite my new position and the respect I've earned, I'm still just one piece of a much larger puzzle, a puzzle that's governed by strict protocols and hierarchies.

"It's not that simple, Bundy," I say, my voice low and tense. "The Korean police organization is more complicated than you think. There are certain rules that everyone has to follow, no matter who they are or what rank they hold."

Bundy chuckles, the sound cold and dismissive. "Rules," he scoffs, his voice dripping with contempt. "Since when have rules ever stopped people from doing what they want? From taking what they desire?"

Before I can dwell on those thoughts any further, Bundy's voice cuts through the silence once more, his tone suddenly sharp and urgent.

"Park," he says, his words sending a chill down my spine. "Do you remember the face of the man you met at Jung's apartment? The one who claimed to be Jung himself?"

I frown, trying to conjure up an image of the man in my mind. But all I can see are vague impressions, fleeting glimpses of a hooded figure with a shadowed face.

"It's hard to say," I admit, my voice hesitant and unsure. "He was wearing a hood, and he never showed his face directly. I don't think I could pick him out of a lineup."

Bundy is silent for a moment, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze boring into me from some unseen vantage point. And then, when he speaks again, his voice is low and chilling, filled with a dark and terrible certainty.

"Isn't that the guy?" he whispers, his words sending a shiver of fear down my spine.

"The one who's staring at you from that dark corner over there?"