By Zephyria 
Thwack. Having been kicked in the shin, Hee-shin clutched his leg in pain and limped. The person huffing and puffing like a bull was none other than Chief Prosecutor Jo Cheol-woong. His face, already resembling a toad, had turned a vivid crimson with rage. A poisonous toad. Even in this moment, Hee-shin thought that was a fitting description.
“You, you little shit! Are you determined to screw me over? Why aren’t you picking up your phone! You did this on purpose to drive me crazy!”
The shouting and finger-pointing were so intense that Hee-shin’s ears were ringing. As he kept his mouth shut, Chief Prosecutor Jo flung a file folder at him. The folder hit his face and crashed to the floor, scattering papers everywhere in a chaotic mess.
“You knew about this, didn’t you? You knew and handed it over anyway!”
“I never handed it over. You were the one who asked for it first, Chief…”
This little shit is talking back! He finally grabbed a nameplate, but unable to bring himself to throw it, he huffed and slammed it back into place. With his hands on his hips, he repeatedly tilted his head back toward the ceiling and snapped it forward.
After a while, seemingly having calmed down somewhat, he sat on the sofa and pulled out an electronic cigarette. Every time he exhaled, a faint, artificial fruit scent wafted through the air. Meanwhile, Hee-shin meticulously picked up the papers from the floor. As he gathered them to put back into the folder, Chief Prosecutor Jo looked at him with an incredulous expression.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re just going to tell me to clean it up anyway. I’m just doing it in advance.”
“Are you doing this on purpose to make my blood pressure spike so I drop dead?”
“No.”
“No, my ass! You’re too damn good with your words!”
“….”
“Forget all that, bring me the original. You have the original, don’t you?”
“I don’t. I only received that copy.”
“Then go get it from the person who gave it to you! I heard you met Financial Director Kwak Seong-tae!”
“I did, but I can’t reach him right now.”
Chief Prosecutor Jo finally bolted upright from his seat.
“How does that make sense! Why would someone you met just a few days ago suddenly vanish!”
“I wouldn’t know…”
“You little—!”
Judging by the stream of profanities erupting, he was truly livid. Despite this, Hee-shin maintained a consistent claim without a flicker of emotion on his face: that he believed that copy was the original, and that he hadn’t answered the phone because he had been too sick to move.
After shouting and berating him, Chief Prosecutor Jo shifted to a coaxing tone.
“Hee-shin. Prosecutor Kang. Do you really want to do this? Are you doing this just for our own benefit? This is a matter of our district office’s honor! Do you understand, kid?”
Don’t make me laugh. It’s your honor.
When it came to lying through their teeth, this man and Hee-shin were no different.
“Do you really not have it?”
“No.”
Just as Chief Prosecutor Jo was about to throw another fit, his phone on the table rang. Hee-shin caught a glimpse of the caller ID: the Chief Prosecutor General. As expected, Jo’s face contorted, and he hurried toward the window. The sight of his back as he answered the phone was almost pitiful.
“Yes, yes… No, sir. I am speaking with him now. I will handle it somehow. Yes, yes, I am sorry. My apologies, Chief Prosecutor General.”
During the one-minute call, he seemed to apologize at least ten times. He bowed deeply toward the empty space outside the window before turning back with a look of utter defeat. Even then, Hee-shin remained seated, motionless. Chief Prosecutor Jo sat down, sighing so deeply his chest heaved. He closed his eyes tightly and, after a moment of deliberation, spoke.
“Be honest with me. Do you really not have the original?”
Hee-shin didn’t answer, and Chief Prosecutor Jo seemed to have caught on.
“…If I take this over, can you take responsibility for it?”
The corner of Hee-shin’s mouth curled up slightly. His expression likely said everything. Chief Prosecutor Jo pressed his hand to his forehead and muttered to himself that he was dealing with a stubborn brat. Then, he used the intercom to call someone. It was Prosecutor Jang Seon-woo, who had been assigned to take over the case.
“They say nothing was reported last night.”
“Is that so?”
“What happened? Did you see an accident or something?”
“No, nothing…”
Chief Oh was about to dig deeper when she fell silent at the arrival of an unexpected guest. The person who opened the door and walked in without knocking was none other than Park Tae-min. As usual, he had brought a coffee. Surprisingly, it wasn’t from a cheap franchise, but from a fairly expensive cafe.
“Our Pro Kang, you must be thirsty, right? I prepared this for you. I loaded it with shots.”
After handing one to Chief Oh and Staff Member Baek Young-mi, he didn’t leave but instead circled around Hee-shin’s desk. Hee-shin looked back and forth between the coffee and Park Tae-min. Just as he was about to offer his thanks…
“Oh, forget the thanks. How did you butter up the Chief?”
“Is the Chief a potato? Why would I butter him up?”
Park Tae-min let out a fake, loud laugh. He remarked that he didn’t know Hee-shin had a talent for jokes. Then, he subtly shifted his posture and lowered his voice.
“If you’ve got something good, let’s share it. People from the same hometown should push and pull each other up, right?”
“Weren’t you the one saying I didn’t fit in at the prosecution office?”
“Again with the grudges. Ah, damn. Come on, can’t you just give me a little hint? I need to know how things are going so I can react accordingly.”
In other words, he was openly admitting that he was contemplating which side to align himself with.
When Hee-shin motioned for him to come closer, Park Tae-min leaned down.
“More.”
This time, he lowered himself completely, bringing his face close to Hee-shin’s.
To the man whose eyes were glittering like a hyena’s, Hee-shin spoke clearly and deliberately.
“I. Will. En-joy. The. Cof-fee.”
This little… Park Tae-min, who looked ready to snap, was the first to back down. Though he appeared sly and occasionally thoughtless, he was more ambitious than anyone. He likely viewed this as a better opportunity than the fruitless Kim Hae-sung case. Since the evidence and witnesses were already gathered, he probably intended to simply ride the wave of a prepared meal.
“You really want to be like this?”
“Stop bothering me and leave. I have a mountain of work.”
Hee-shin pointed to the pile of cases. At that, Park Tae-min seemed to make a decision and moved some of the cases assigned to him over to Hee-shin’s side.
“Will this be enough?”
Hee-shin frowned slightly.
“Your generosity, Sunbae, then and now, is truly…”
As Hee-shin made a gesture with his fingers to indicate it was “small,” Park Tae-min sighed. Cruel bastard. You’ve caught a break, haven’t you? He then piled more on top, exactly as much as he had taken away.
“There, happy? Huh?”
“Not bad.”
“That’s the spirit. Isn’t it great? When you and I cooperate like this. Don’t you agree, Chief Oh?”
Chief Oh forced a smile before immediately returning to her work with a stern face. Amidst this cold reception, Park Tae-min struggled to carve out a piece of the pie. Hee-shin disliked that trait in Park Tae-min, yet he felt a sense of kinship. Was he not also struggling and flailing to survive in this place? As Park had said, if one has no line to pull them up and no backing to push them forward, one must survive on their own.
“I’ll report to the higher-ups. Okay?”
Hee-shin nodded, and Park Tae-min walked out with the files, pouting his lips.
Once he had completely disappeared, Chief Oh spoke up softly.
“Will you be alright? You can’t really trust Prosecutor Park.”
“He lacks a moral compass and is greedy, but he isn’t inherently evil.”
He said that, but he didn’t fully trust Park Tae-min. In fact, he trusted no one. People can change at any moment if the situation shifts. It’s not that people are bad; it’s that situations drive them to be. The same would apply to him. That was why he had been unable to take any action after seeing that incident last night.
Instead of self-reproaching, he turned the page of the document. He needed to focus on work, but Im Gyeong kept coming to mind. The fact that there were no separate reports to the nearby police stations or precincts last night meant that Im Gyeong had handled the matter perfectly. It was terrifying that several people could be killed in the heart of Seoul without anyone knowing.
In the midst of this, a message arrived.
As he was about to reply, another message arrived quickly.
His fingers stopped moving. Why Im Gyeong? Well, he’s family, so of course he could come. But did he always attend family events?
His heart wavered. He wanted to make a good impression on Chairman Yoon. It was a formal meeting, and he didn’t want to ruin it. However, Im Gyeong was like a time bomb—you never knew when or how he would explode. But what could he, the one in the disadvantaged position, even do? If he was told to come, he had to go.
Okay, he replied briefly, but his mind was becoming more complicated than ever.