By Zephyria 
Zokubutsu (俗物) : Snob / Materialist
I scoffed while staring at my phone screen. While waiting for the signal, I had suddenly become curious about the meaning of the Japanese word Im Gyeong had spat at me, so I searched for it—but even after finding out, I wasn’t surprised. As if I hadn’t recognized the mockery and loathing in his eyes.
That son of a bitch.
Cursing, I lowered the phone and checked my tie in a mirror for a moment. The luxury tie was the greatest extravagance I could afford. Considering my earnings, it wasn’t excessive, but considering my circumstances, it was certainly beyond my station.
With a bitter expression, I watched the numbers on the traffic light change second by second. I was in a hurry, but for some reason, the signal felt longer than usual today. Just then, an old man pulling a small handcart was crossing the middle of the street. Dirty clothes. An elderly man who looked neglected to anyone.
Memories of the past surfaced, and my expression hardened.
The days when I used to pick up discarded boxes and empty bottles in front of stores with hands like fern shoots during the freezing winter.
Soon after, a horn blared loudly from behind.
Lost in old memories, Hee-shin glared at the car behind him through the rearview mirror.
“I’m going, I’m going. You prick.”
He started the car and watched the cart recede through the mirror. He didn’t want to grow old like that. He wanted to build a harmonious family, have children, and do his part as the head of a household. He would absolutely not live like his parents.
After making that vow, he arrived in front of the National Forensic Service (NFS). As he stepped out of the car, someone waved from a distance. It was Detective Choi, with whom he was on friendly terms. He had gotten married last month and should have been enjoying his honeymoon phase, but unfortunately, it seemed he spent more nights at the station than at home.
“You’re here, Prosecutor?”
“What happened?”
“It’s as you heard. Since he didn’t show up for work, the General manager went to check on him and found him. No signs of intrusion, no defensive wounds, and externally, he looks perfectly fine. We barely managed to persuade the bereaved family to allow an autopsy, but it doesn’t seem like anything specific will come out.”
“What about the CCTV?”
“Crystal clear.”
“And Choi Yoon-oh?”
“I’m planning to go see him after this. Though I don’t know if he’ll agree to meet.”
When they went to the autopsy room inside the NFS, Dr. Hwang greeted them. The forensic pathologist, with salt-and-pepper short hair, looked exhausted, likely from the accumulation of fatigue due to the influx of autopsies. Following her into the morgue, they removed Kim Hae-sung’s body from the freezer.
As the white cloth was pulled back, Kim Hae-sung’s face appeared.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who had come to the Prosecutor’s Office for questioning a few days ago.
“There were no particular findings externally. We’ll know for sure once the toxicology report comes back.”
Hee-shin examined various parts of Kim Hae-sung’s body while listening to Dr. Hwang.
“How long will the results take?”
“I don’t know. About a week?”
“Can’t you move it up?”
“You know how it is. You think we’re just playing around? If you’re that busy, Prosecutor, why don’t you come and lend a hand.”
At Dr. Hwang’s words, Kang Hee-shin narrowed his eyes and curled the corners of his mouth. When he acted uncharacteristically coquettish, asking her to please do him this favor, Dr. Hwang let out a scoffing laugh. While nagging him that he was becoming quite the sly fox, she answered that she would let him know by the day after tomorrow.
As they left the morgue, Detective Choi stepped beside him and lowered his voice.
“You didn’t even pretend to listen when I was talking. Using your looks to get your way? That’s cheap.”
“If you’re feeling wronged, Detective Choi, you should have been born handsome too.”
“Wow—.”
“Am I obnoxious?”
“Can you hear the inner thoughts of people now?”
Despite exchanging jokes, neither of them could truly laugh. The host, a key witness in the case, was dead. There had been a lot of concern from those around him since he first took on this case. Since third-generation chaebols and the children of politicians were involved, there was nothing for a mere prosecutor to gain by poking around. Even the higher-ups had been discouraging him; he wondered if he should have listened back then. He found himself overthinking too late.
Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
<Restricted Caller>
As he stopped in his tracks, Detective Choi, who had been walking ahead, turned back.
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
He’d probably just hang up without saying a word even if he answered. He considered tracking the caller down and crushing them, but in the end, it was just some criminal holding a grudge. His thought was that instead of wasting time on such people, he should catch worse criminals and produce results.
If the guy had a clear objective, he would act.
Trembling in fear and worrying in advance wasn’t his style.
Once they stepped outside and sat on a bench, Detective Choi took out a cigarette. Looking for a light, he looked at Hee-shin. “Prosecutor. Do you have a light?” Hee-shin took a lighter out of his pocket and handed it over. He had quit smoking, but he always carried a lighter in his pocket just in case.
Quitting smoking was less about his own will and more about Yoon Se-na’s wishes. She had told him she wanted him to quit since they would get married and have children. He had accepted her wish without a second thought. However, he couldn’t help the desperate craving for a cigarette whenever he was stressed or drinking.
Even though he considered himself to have a strong will, the urge to smoke was often hard to resist. While he soothed himself by fiddling with the lighter in his hand, Detective Choi smiled vacantly while exchanging text messages.
“Who is it that makes you so happy?”
“My wife. She went to Japan the day before yesterday.”
“Did you say she’s a Zainichi Korean?”
“Yes. She’s a third-generation immigrant, so she’s not very fluent in Korean. But that’s actually what makes her so cute.”
Someone’s face flashed through his mind.
…Snob.
Obnoxious bastard. Who the hell is calling whom a snob?
Did he say he was leaving the country soon?
Since he said he only comes to Korea occasionally, he only hoped they would never cross paths.
“Detective Choi. When you were in the narcotics unit, you dealt with Yakuza kids too, right?”
“I saw them often. Why? Is there something you’re curious about?”
“Well… are third-generation Yakuza good at fighting?”
Detective Choi frowned at the ridiculous question. Because he asked “What?” back, Hee-shin’s face flushed for no reason. He pretended to be composed, but it seemed his pride had been wounded by the memory of being overpowered and having his head slammed into a sink.
“Did a Yakuza extort money from you? Was that phone call earlier perhaps…?”
He waved his hand, saying it was nothing, and downed his drink in one gulp. Continuing to think about a guy like that was a waste of time. The thing he hated most in the world was wasting time.
After completely erasing the man from his mind, he flicked the empty can forward. Thump. The can missed the trash can and rolled far away. It felt as if that result was telling him his previous thought was wrong, which only soured his mood.
He stood up, slowly picked up the can, and scored a perfect goal into the trash can.
As if to wash away the anxiety blooming in his heart.
“Oh, give me the address of Kim Hae-sung’s mother.”
“You’re going?”
“I have to. You said the last person he called was his mother.”
“I don’t think you’ll hear anything nice. Don’t go. It’s our job anyway.”
“What’s ‘your job’ or ‘my job’? The one in a hurry has to dig the well.”
At his adamant attitude, Detective Choi gave him a thumbs-up.
“As expected, Prosecutor Kang is different. Maybe it’s because you’re from the police—ah, sorry. You probably hate hearing that.”
What was the point of saying sorry after already saying it? And why would he hate it? Everyone knew anyway. Moreover, while it felt unpleasant when other prosecutors said it, it didn’t feel bad when a detective said it. Was this a kind of superiority complex? Ah, thinking about it, that’s pathetic.
He received the address from Detective Choi and checked the location. If it was definitely a suicide, wouldn’t there have been some sign? It started to snow just before he departed, but he thought it was no big deal. The weather forecast said there would be a light dusting of snow, and he believed that implicitly.
Damn it. He cursed while looking at the snow pouring from the sky. Those people at the Meteorological Administration. Do they even do their jobs properly? Then again, people always say similar things—that prosecutor bastards just waste the country’s taxes and don’t do their jobs right.
The sun had set and the weather was gloomy, making his mind waver. Should I go back? After debating, he parked the car in a secluded spot next to a mart and took out the umbrella from the trunk. There were shops in the narrow alley, but they had been closed for a long time, and no one was passing by.
I should have bought a drink at the mart. Regretting it, he began to climb the alley, following the address saved in his phone. The stairs, where snow had begun to accumulate, were slippier than expected, and after repeating the climb several times, his legs were trembling.
As he readjusted his grip on the umbrella, a call came in.
Knowing it was his girlfriend, he intentionally raised his voice in a welcoming tone.
“Hey, Se-na.”
“Out on field work. Is something wrong? Did you call because you missed me?”
“Oppa? Who…?”
At the two syllables of ‘Im Gyeong,’ his brain momentarily stopped functioning.
“That guy from Japan…”
He omitted the words ‘piece of shit.’
Since they were blood relatives, he felt that cursing openly wasn’t right.
Kang Hee-shin kept his mouth shut for a moment and looked down the hill. While the world was turning completely white, he could see snowplows moving busily in the distance.
“Why the contact info?”
“Did you give it to him?”
“Right… Good job.”
Yoon Se-na asked in a subtly probing tone.
He pretended not to notice, but as someone whose job was to probe others, there was no way Kang Hee-shin didn’t realize it.
“I already explained. There was a minor argument because he misunderstood me.”
“Se-na, I’m a bit busy right now, can I call you back later?”
“Yeah, will do.”
After hanging up, he let out a low sigh. He couldn’t tell what Im Gyeong was plotting. After all that bullshit, it wasn’t like he wanted to be on friendly terms. Or did he suddenly feel like apologizing? On the other hand, he was curious about what he had to say. If he apologized, he was willing to pretend to accept it.
Then he stopped at a fork in the road. A cat passed by under a streetlight, leaving paw prints. Is it that way? While recalling the address, Hee-shin noticed the phone in his pocket vibrating.
<Restricted Caller>
He stared at it for a moment before bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
As expected, the other party didn’t answer.
“You coward! Stop being pathetic and come here yourself if you have something to say!”
He hung up irritably and vented his frustration by kicking a stone in front of him. Then, as he turned around, someone was standing behind him. Despite the cold weather, the man, dressed only in a tracksuit, was breathing out white plumes of frost with every breath.
…What?
Suddenly, the man looked at the phone in his hand and smiled.
At the same time, Hee-shin’s phone vibrated again.
<Restricted Caller>
“…Ah!”
The moment he looked up, the man was sprinting toward him, pulling out a blue-steel kitchen knife.