I checked through the files sent by Han Hyunsoo and set them down.
The photos showed disgusting scenes.
“Tsk... I’d only heard about it, but they really are filthy.”
It felt like my eyes were rotting. I covered the photos and pushed them away.
Then I picked up one of several videotapes on the table and handed it to Manager Ma.
“Play this one.”
He took it, slid it into the VTR, fast-forwarded through the footage, and slowed it down once Han Hyunjin appeared.
Han Hyunjin grabbed someone by the hair and dragged them violently toward somewhere.
Soon, he entered a building and got into an elevator.
The quality wasn’t great — clearly filmed in secret — but it was clear enough to see what he was doing.
And then...
The next scene was shocking.
Inside what looked like an office, Han Hyunjin was holding a golf club and beating a person who had already lost consciousness like a madman.
The floor was soaked in blood, and blood was splattered all over his own body.
And that lunatic bastard was grinning.
He wiped the blood off his face with his blood-stained hand and laughed.
A moment later.
Other people entered the room and were filmed cleaning up and carrying away the body.
“Phew...”
I hadn’t realized how stiff my body had become until the end of the tape came up with static noise filling the screen. A long sigh escaped me.
Manager Ma turned off the TV, pulled the tape out, and came over.
“Put it all back in the box. ...With this much evidence, he’ll be spending quite a long time behind bars.”
“Yes, boss.”
While he was putting the materials back into the box, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and made a call.
The dial tone played a recently released mixed-group song — upbeat and cheerful.
I organized my thoughts as I listened to the lively melody.
Then, with a soft click, a familiar voice came through.
It was Oh Hyunwoo, who had recently been reassigned to the Office of Criminal Information Planning under the Prosecutor General’s direct supervision.
— Hello.
He must have seen my name on the screen, but since he didn’t say it aloud, he was probably with someone.
“Busy?”
— Nah, just having a cup of coffee.
“You can talk?”
— Yeah, hang on.
I heard him excuse himself and move away from someone on the other end.
— Okay, Muhyuk. You can talk now.
“You’re not too busy to take my call, right?”
— Even if I were, I’d still answer your call. What are you saying?
The corner of my mouth lifted slightly. Spending time with Myungsoo must’ve rubbed off on him — he’d gotten a lot cheekier.
“I heard you were transferred to the Office of Criminal Information Planning.”
The Office of Criminal Information Planning — commonly called “Beomjeong.”
Alongside the Central Investigation Department, it was one of the two most powerful posts symbolizing the Prosecutor General’s authority.
If the Central Investigation Department was the flower of the prosecution, then Beomjeong was its shadow.
Only the ace prosecutors and investigators in the entire organization were stationed there.
Oh Hyunwoo had been steadily walking the elite path.
Ever since his appointment as a prosecutor, all his positions had been within the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office.
— Oh, you heard? I worked pretty hard to get in here. I actually enjoy handling information more than direct investigation. And the good part? I can do whatever I want here. The Central Investigation Department only works on what they’re told from above.
The countless files collected by Beomjeong piled up neatly in what was called the “Cabinet.” That cabinet was the prosecution’s strongest weapon.
The term “Prosecutors’ Republic” didn’t exist for nothing.
They didn’t gather information through legal means — surveillance was basic, and even wiretapping was common practice to build their archives.
And only a handful of people within the entire organization had access to that cabinet.
Honestly, the fact that an ordinary prosecutor like Oh Hyunwoo could even enter there was already an absurd privilege.
It was all thanks to his grandfather’s influence — the very pinnacle of the legal cartel.
“No internal backlash? That’s quite a drastic appointment; I figured people would talk.”
— Of course there’s backlash. But no one dares say it out loud. I know my peers and seniors are bad-mouthing me behind my back. What can I do? It’s my karma; I’ll live with it. Anyway, why did you call? To buy me a drink to celebrate? Should I gather the guys tonight?
Myungsoo started hating drinking once he went into politics, but this guy — since joining the prosecution, he’s been drinking nonstop.
Not that I minded, but today I had another purpose.
“No, I’m calling about something else. Do you know anyone trustworthy in the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office?”
— Central? Why? Why not leave it to the Supreme Office?
“It’s not a chaebol or political case. It’s more along the lines of rape and murder — petty crimes for the Central Investigation Department.”
— What? Why the hell are you dealing with that kind of case?
He rarely got calls from me about small matters, so suspicion filled his tone.
I told him about Heaven’s Church.
After listening quietly, he cursed.
— Ah, fuck! I knew those bastards were up to something. Those cult freaks! Selling God like that — what the hell are they doing? This pisses me off.
Understandable. Oh Hyunwoo had attended church since he was a kid.
“Anyway, since religion’s involved, the pressure will be heavy. I can handle the prosecution side, but you know how crazy the religious fanatics can get.”
In Korea, religion was practically a sacred territory one must never touch.
For them, doctrine came before law.
Once the investigation started and Han Hyunjin was arrested, it was certain that hordes of believers would flood the prosecution’s gates in protest.
And not just protests — the prosecutor in charge could very well face death threats.
Finding someone willing to handle the case wasn’t going to be easy.
I could force it through the system, but I needed someone who would voluntarily pour everything into crushing Han Hyunjin.
“Is there anyone? Someone willing to take the fall, draw their sword, and swing it exactly where I tell them to — without overstepping.”
— Hmm. Yeah, this kind of case would be awkward for someone with a bright future. It’ll definitely make headlines, but they’ll end up with a ton of new enemies...
There were Heaven’s Church members within the prosecution too, and he knew that.
After thinking for a while, something must have come to his mind.
— There is one guy. A prosecutor who passed the bar exam with only a high school diploma. He’s five classes above me in the Judicial Research and Training Institute. Because he has no background, he’s been stuck rotating through rural posts, but this time he got sent to the Central Office for rotation. He’d probably do whatever you say, as long as you promise to pull him up afterward.
“That’s no problem... but he’s not the stiff, righteous type, is he?”
Dealing with someone full of pointless pride and moral ideals would be exhausting.
He must’ve understood my meaning because I heard a faint laugh over the line.
— No, not at all. I’ve met him a few times — he’s quick-witted and ambitious. Perfect for this kind of job. You know how it is — if you’re not a Korea National University graduate, you’ll never get into the inner circle. He’s got ability but no connections.
“Set up a meeting then. How about tonight?”
— Okay, I’ll arrange it. Bar?
I really would have to treat him to a proper drink sometime soon.
“Dinner first. Make a reservation at a Japanese place in Seocho-dong... what was the name?”
— Geumgang?
“Yeah. Book there. If I like him, we can move somewhere else for drinks after.”
— Deal! I’m always in for drinks!
I chuckled and shook my head.
“Keep that up, and I’m calling Minkyung.”
— Hey! Spare me! Fine, I’ll book it. See you later, Muhyuk.
I said goodbye and hung up.
“Dinner meeting in Seocho-dong tonight. Cancel all other schedules.”
“Yes, boss.”
Come to think of it, I hadn’t asked the guy’s name — but I’d find out soon enough.
To leave on time, I had to clear the paperwork piled up in front of me first.
When the appointment time came, I arrived at Geumgang in Seocho-dong.
I walked in with Manager Ma. As expected from a high-end Japanese restaurant, a man who looked like the manager approached us.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“It should be under Oh Hyunwoo.”
“Ah, Prosecutor Oh’s party. This way, please. They’ve already arrived.”
I had arrived a bit early, but apparently Hyunwoo had beaten me there.
Following the manager’s lead, I walked down the corridor.
He opened the door to the farthest private room, where two men were sitting, drinking together, leaving the head seat empty.
When the door opened, Oh Hyunwoo waved, and the man across from him turned his head.
“You’ve already started.”
I slipped off my shoes and stepped inside. As the door closed, both men stood up.
The stranger was a new face — definitely someone outside the prosecution’s main circles.
“Muhyuk, this is Prosecutor Jeong Taehun.”
Hyunwoo introduced him right away to keep things smooth.
Jeong Taehun extended his hand first, smiling politely.
“Jeong Taehun. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Kim.”
“Nice to meet you. Kim Muhyuk. I hope you’ve only heard the good things.”
I smiled as I shook his hand.
After the brief handshake, I naturally took the head seat.
I understood why Hyunwoo had left it open — and what he wanted me to demonstrate.
It was an unspoken signal: make the hierarchy clear.
Exchanging a look with Hyunwoo, I picked up the sake pot and offered it to Jeong Taehun.
“Have a drink first.”
Jeong accepted the drink with both hands, showing proper respect.
I poured for Hyunwoo as well, then set the pot down — only for Jeong to grab it quickly and say,
“Let me pour for you, too.”
Sharp one. Just as Hyunwoo said. As I held out my cup, Jeong poured, visibly tense.
“It’s fate that we’ve met, so let’s have a drink first and talk after.”
I raised my cup, and both followed suit.
I drank first, then Hyunwoo, and finally Jeong — after gauging our reactions — emptied his cup.
“Prosecutor Jeong Taehun, right?” freeweɓnovel.cѳm
“Yes, Mr. Kim.”
“How do you know about me?”
“I heard from Prosecutor Oh on the way here. I didn’t know before.”
“Really? And what did he say?”
I glanced toward Hyunwoo — he was smiling.
What nonsense had he been spouting again?
“He said you’re someone who could open my path to success — told me to make a good impression.”
“Hearing that from a junior must not feel great.”
“Prosecutor Oh’s from a different class. There’s nothing I can do about that. Still, he’s one of the few juniors who actually treats me with respect.”
A bitter smile flickered across his face, then vanished.
“I heard you passed the bar exam with only a high school diploma. Quite famous for that, I heard.”
“...Fame doesn’t mean much. I’m just the token miracle from the gutter, spinning in circles around the provinces.”
In the prosecution, unless you were from Seoul High and Korea National University, you’d never become part of the mainstream.
Seoul High–Korea National grads were the nobles.
Other university grads from Seoul were the middle class.
A high-school graduate prosecutor was treated like a peasant.
I couldn’t quite imagine how he felt.
Everyone around me was considered noble blood in the legal world.
But surely, when he passed the bar exam and became a prosecutor, he must have dreamed of a different future — one the harsh reality had denied him.
I offered him another drink.
“There will be a good day. No matter how long winter lasts, spring always comes eventually.”
“...If you lead the way, I’ll do anything.”
Jeong bowed his head. He looked ready to rip out his own liver and gallbladder if I asked.
“Then have another drink.”
After that, I kept the conversation light to ease the tension, occasionally pouring him another cup.
When the atmosphere had loosened enough, I lifted my glass and asked,
“If I become the rope that pulls you up, will you do anything I ask?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jeong went down on his knees.
“Yes. I’ll do anything.”
The immediate response made me nod in satisfaction.
I drained my cup in one go.
Smiling softly, I held out the empty glass to him.
“Then let’s work together on something.”