We're designed to live (2/4)

[mo_chan_tf]

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x

Hwasa looked up at the placard to make sure she was at the right place. The Garden Fairy looked empty from her spot on the sidewalk, no light except for the rays of sun filtering in through the curtainless shop window. There were no plants on display there or on the floor next to the door, unlike most flower shops she had been to. There was no bell either, so she knocked at the door and waited.

She thought she heard a meow, but nothing else. A slight frown was cast on her features as she peeked through the window. She saw no one, even though she knocked again in case she hadn't been heard the first time.

She almost screamed when a cat jumped at the shop window to stand on the wooden surface where the flowers should be. It seemed to be staring straight at her, and its gaze was unsettling. The tip of its tail was hooked; the pose was not threatening but the face was. It didn’t look like a domestic cat at all, what with those yellow eyes and that thick, colorful fur that might have suited some big, ferocious feline. As if reading her mind, the cat mewled, the whiskers moving as if it could twist its nose. But the cat turned around and jumped off her sight, disappearing somewhere. Hwasa stood there, chuckling at what had just happened, a late reaction to her own initial fright and that amusing little beast.

She didn’t understand why the store was empty. Chansung had told her she could start work that afternoon, but the store looked as if it had been not only closed but abandoned. She looked down at the paper bag she had carefully prepared that morning, her forehead creasing again. A few days ago, when Minjun first tried talking to her about this job offer, she had tried to contain her excitement. Maybe she wouldn’t get the job. And if she did, maybe she wouldn’t like doing it, in which case she would let it go and try something else. If she was going to spend the time she needed to study music on something else, even though that would allow her to pay for those studies, it should be something she enjoyed. And Hwasa loved flowers.

She heard a noise and looked up to see the door opening to the inside, accompanied by the soft bell of a wind chime that hung just at the entrance. Hwasa found herself staring at the glassy drops of purple and emerald, crafted together in a weave of smaller, transparent beads. Her gaze was diverted by soft footsteps on the wooden floor and the sight of Chansung in what seemed to be the clothes he had slept on. She felt her cheeks warming up but she didn’t look away, she just bowed at him in greeting.

“I’m sorry I look like this,” Chansung said, and he did sound apologetic, his voice sleepy. “I thought you were not coming--” he seemed to regret saying that, but Hwasa couldn’t be sure. He stepped aside to welcome her into the shop and left the door open as he waited for her to take in the sight that puzzled her even more.

The tabletops where flowers, bouquets, seedings and ornaments used to be displayed were empty. The shelves against one of the walls had vases of different shapes and sizes and there were bags of garden soil and other flower supplies on display. The pictures and paintings of flowers behind the counter that was probably for the cashier were beautiful, colorful and lively, but they did not make up for the absence of what was real. The lack of breathing, living plants made her feel almost as empty as the shop looked.

“We-- The shop’s been closed for a while...” Hwasa was still staring at the pictures when Chansung said that, his voice trailing off. When he didn’t say anything else, she took a deep breath and turned around to look at him again.

At least this time she did not blush, or so she hoped. Chansung was wearing a loose grey shirt and black sweats, and an old pair of slippers. She tried to guess what that hinted at about her new boss, but she could not compare this to the man she had met the night before. He had been wearing nice clothes, a black suit that fitted just right and a white shirt that didn’t need a tie to make him look good. His hair had been combed to the side so the fringe wouldn’t fall around his eyes like it was doing now. She liked the way his hair looked now, but the thing was-- it seemed he had been sleeping when she arrived. And that was weird.

A fleeting smile passed over his features as he looked down. The cat had returned; it jumped on one of the tabletops and lay there, its eyes focused on Hwasa.

“This is Grumpy,” Chansung said. The name fit that unfriendly face so well Hwasa had to bite back a chuckle. “He’s a wildcat but he’s not dangerous. Most of the time,” he added as an afterthought, as the cat’s tail thrashed from side to side and then stopped. Chansung’s eyes crinkled at the edges and though he didn’t laugh, Hwasa could picture him doing it. “Again, I’m sorry that I kept you waiting,” he looked at her, eyes and voice more steady than before. “I knew you’d left the pub late and I’d have told you to come tomorrow if I had your number. I can’t believe I forgot to ask for that,” he shook his head at himself, his brown eyes glinting when he looked at her. She noticed they were not as dark as she had thought the night before-- more like ground cocoa than the seeds. He also looked more relaxed despite their current awkward situation.

“I can give it to you now--” she interrupted herself, suddenly aware of her own boldness. It was for work, sure, but she didn’t miss the way he seemed to pause before his mouth eased into a polite smile.

“You must be wondering where all the flowers are.” She was grateful he changed the subject so smoothly, his eyes indicating the back door that stood between the pictures and paintings. “Oh but I’m being such a bad host-- I mean, you’re not exactly a guest, but I didn’t offer to take that bag you’re carrying, and I don’t think it’s working as a purse...?”

Hwasa couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that made her cheeks rise as it lingered at the corners of her mouth. She noted his curious gaze and put the bag on the tabletop where the cat was seemingly asleep. She was not surprised when he peered at her from slitted eyelids, his forepaws moving in a languid stretch as he rolled a little towards Hwasa, nearly touching the paper bag. That surprised her. Chansung tried to stifle a laugh but it came out through his nose. She didn't look at him as she opened the bag to take out the flower crown she had put there. She placed it carefully on the glass-covered surface, choosing to ignore the fine layer of dust there. Given the chance, she would make sure to clean all that later even if Chansung didn't tell her to.

She noticed Chansung’s quiet gasp and glanced at him before looking back at the flower crown. She bit her lower lip because his own lips were parted and-- Hwasa tried to fight the words that hit her but they took hold of her mind first-- his lips were prettier than the rose petals that Hwasa had worked into the crown. She swallowed and told herself that was part of the process in which she buried that inappropriate trail of thought and remained completely professional. However, that had already been hard when her sunbaenim first introduced them, and it only seemed to be getting harder. So she might have a little trouble drawing a line, alright. The challenge should motivate her.

“You were wearing this,” Chansung’s voice was as soft as the way his fingers traced the rose petals and buds, the white daisies and green leaves. This was a simple crown that Hwasa had made with real flowers while sorting her thoughts; she would usually go for fake ones because she could make them faster and wear them again. Though simple, this one was unique. It would wither and die soon, like all things plucked from the earth. But Chansung looked at it as if beauty was all it held.

“When Minjun-nim told me about the shop,” she left out the details; Chansung had already said the shop had been closed for weeks and that was enough. “I thought we could use this. Flower crowns in general, I mean. They’re popular right now, we can buy handmade ones and sometimes make our own.”

Chansung looked at her in silence. Hwasa thought she might have gone overboard; maybe the suggestion was not appropriate, considering it was her first day. “You’ve thought more about this job than I did,” he said. She would keep worrying but his eyes melted at the edges until he was smiling at her, hot chocolate pouring into her gaze.

Hwasa grinned back at him. She knew how to take a compliment.

“Minjun hyung was right. You like flowers so much...” he scratched at the back of Grumpy’s ears absentmindedly. The cat seemed to sigh, but his face was otherwise unable to undo that scrunched up, haughty look. “Okay. You’re hired.” She was already beaming when he added, a spark of interest in his eyes, “I hope you like our garden.”

x

The next couple of days went by too fast, but there were moments when Hwasa had to stop and take a breath to tell herself it was real. When she first entered the garden, she not only understood why the shop was called The Garden Fairy, but she also had to agree with it. It was magical-- so many flowers everywhere, bushes and trees that went beyond what her eyes could see. The garden was part of a large yard that seemed to start where a forest ended, but there was no fence to separate one from the other. Chansung did tell her not to go past the huge zelkova tree that stood next to the house where he lived because she might get lost, but that only piqued her curiosity.

Still, there was so much to explore on that first day in the garden. She delighted in surprising Chansung with her knowledge about most of the flowers, plants and trees he had growing there; she didn’t recognize all of them but she would learn. The trees surrounding the garden worked like a natural border: there was an evergreen oak and a Korean cherry tree whose blossoming flowers she kept smiling at, because it was just too beautiful. There was an Oyama Magnolia whose downy buds she touched softly, her eyes taking in every detail: the immaculate petals, the reddish stamens, the vivid green leaves. She felt Chansung watching her in silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. She wouldn’t speak for a while and he seemed to actually expect her to just admire the overwhelming beauty of the place.

She knew she could spend hours there without getting bored, but she didn’t have all that time. She would have to explore a little every day: the lilies, the anemones, the irises and the roses of sharon. The fountain where birds drank, how friendly they were, how they didn’t immediately fly away when Chansung approached them. The white and purple dahlias, the small horned holly, and one tree with colorful leaves whose name Hwasa decided to look up for herself instead of asking Chansung about it. It didn’t make sense that all those species were blooming at the same time in what seemed to be their natural habitat, but maybe special products could bring small miracles to life. Maybe there was a fairy working her magic to make this all happen. For some reason, Hwasa couldn’t laugh at that idea. Not when she was there, surrounded by all that wonder.

Chansung spent the second day teaching her about the products they had in store, and how to make bouquets and arrangements for different occasions. He would frown or chuckle when Hwasa tried something out without his explaining it first, nodding in quiet approval when she created a new cluster of flowers out of her imagination. He seemed to trust her ideas; he didn’t say anything when she wore a handmade flower crown on the third day, but she caught him smiling at her when he thought she wasn’t aware of it. Meanwhile, he got in touch with possible suppliers, but no clients yet. The fourth day was used to organize and clean everything as well as to give new life to the storefront so that they could welcome potential customers, old and new.

Hwasa was excited for the next week, when that fresh start would actually unfold. Her friends had teased her, saying she might leave the pub to work at the store, but that was not true and they knew it. She felt a buzz similar to the one from that night when she first met Chansung, though she didn’t like to think about that for what happened after she and the girls left the pub. She preferred to focus on the lightness that came with knowing she had a second job now, one she enjoyed as much as singing and performing. Despite how busy she would be from now on, she felt like she had even more energy to balance work and studies while enjoying both as much as she could. It would be hard but she would make it worth it.

“You haven’t tried the tulips yet,” Chansung’s voice startled her. He chuckled but apologized when he saw she had dropped the blue gerberas she had been trying to tie together, and he picked them up for her. “Scaredy cat,” he joked, but at first she thought he might be talking about Grumpy. She immediately realized that didn’t fit the wildcat who was more likely to frighten her than the other way around. He was also sleeping among the empty vases and fake flowers Hwasa had put on display at the shop window while they didn’t open for good, so that meant--

“I’m not,” she tried to sound offended but the reaction had come too late. Chansung didn’t press it further though, and that made her look at him instead of turning her attention back to the gerberas in front of her. She finally addressed what he had said when he first approached her. “Tulips?” They didn’t have those in the garden-- for now. Chansung had told her he would work on that, and they had received some dozens of them that morning.

“Yeah. For the flower crowns.”

Hwasa looked briefly at the few crowns she had arranged on one of the shelves against the wall. “If I use natural ones for that, they will wither soon. That’s why I tried the fake ones until we get orders...” She trailed off when she noticed Chansung’s eyes disagreed with what she was saying.

“I meant for the ones you wear.”

She was glad she hadn’t touched the gerberas anymore because she might have either dropped them again or snapped one of the stems in half. Was that a request? She remembered something else she had wanted to ask and kept forgetting. “Should I wear a uniform on Monday? And the tulips flower crown would be a part of it?”

His forehead showed that the inquiring but teasing tone on the second question hadn’t gone unnoticed. Chansung let it go and Hwasa appreciated it, because if he was gonna cross the line then so would she. She was not sure what kind of line that was and if she hadn’t already dismissed it before, but still. “You don’t have to wear a uniform. The clothes you’ve been wearing are fine.”

His brief smile made her recall that first day, how his frumpy state had contrasted with her floral dress and her bright purple lipstick. Today she had chosen a knee-length, high-waisted black skirt with narrow straps that fitted just right over her plain white top. Her red lipstick was a shade darker than the one camellia she had plucked when she arrived. She had used it to decorate the loose bun she had managed to tie her short hair in.

“So... are tulips your favorite?” She asked, deciding she might try to make a flower crown out of them if he didn’t insist too much on it. Tulips were difficult to tie together into a crown that wouldn’t be too big or unravel too soon. She saw Chansung shaking his head and then he was walking away from her, as if the conversation had ended there.

He was weird, sometimes. But she shrugged and went back to the gerberas. They were a bright blue shade that would look great with the white roses she had seen in the garden. She went back there but stopped just out the door when she saw the way Chansung was looking at the fountain amidst all the plants, clearly distracted. He touched the marble and she took a step back; she felt like she was intruding on a personal moment that was not hers to see. Yet she couldn’t stop looking. Something about that had her pinned to the ground.

During the day and under the light of the sun, Chansung’s eyes took on lighter shades of brown. She had noticed that when she first came into the garden four days ago, but she had been too focused on the garden itself to pay attention to that. But every time they were outside and she looked at him, she would notice something different. His eyes would be colored caramel one moment, and then cinnamon or honey the next. Right now she felt like she was looking at the reflection of liquidambar leaves: specks of brown tinged with green and red, faded orange and yellow in between. As if the garden all around her was not enough of a sight, her eyes were drawn to his. And when he looked back at her she felt a little like the birds singing around them, though their sounds felt distant to her for a couple of seconds.

Chansung blinked. The moment was past; his eyes were brown and there was a frown on his face. Hwasa regretted that, but not having caused it. She couldn’t explain what she had just seen but that didn’t matter. It had moved her deeply, and she knew she would want to see it again.

“You have to go,” Chansung said, his voice revealing a sadness he was obviously trying to conceal. Hwasa felt a pang in her chest that seemed foreign; she couldn’t find a reason for that just like she couldn’t reason what she had witnessed, or the change in Chansung’s attitude.

It was almost time for her to leave, but she had a bouquet to finish. She opened her mouth to tell him about the gerberas and the roses and what a waste that would be, but he shook his head slowly, as if anticipating her words.

“Just go. I’ll see you on Monday, alright?” he tried to sound cheerful but it didn’t work very well. Maybe it was not her place to ask him what was going on, but she still felt like she should, that she should stay and talk to him instead of leaving him alone.

He didn’t look like he would accept any option but her absence for now, though. She also had her own place to go that night, and maybe that would help her sort her thoughts and-- feelings, whatever they were. She wished she could take him with her, but that was not possible either.

When Hwasa parted, she left the camellia on one of the tabletops, next to the gerberas. She forgot to take the tulips she would need to make her next flower crown, but that one would have to wait.

x

The waves pushed him towards the shore as if the sea were spitting him out. He did not belong there; he never had been a creature of water even if his life depended on it. The Ocean, however, had reasons to despise him. It was his fault one of her children had been robbed of life, in more ways than one.

Abada rolled on the sand until his blue skin was covered in it. His green hair and beard were short, but when he touched his forehead the horns were not there. He had lost them a long time ago, along with his whip and his right to be in this place. Being here always made him feel like he used to be. His appearance was nearly the same, except he was permanently in his human form now. No backward shoes or shapeshifting skills.

He knew he was not really present, though. He kept coming back and he would come back as long as he could, no matter how useless it was. To him, this mattered more than the water and the trees, the present and the future. The past was a treasure worth more than all chests lost in the ocean and all gems still buried in the caves.

The early afternoon sun was quick to dry his skin as he looked around for his mermaid. She should not be out of the water, but she was condemned to that. They had both been banned but she had paid the highest price.

His glowing eyes stung when he spotted her. She was lying on a rock where the sea met the shore yet no water reached her. Her long tail of emerald green was still, her arms hanging on her sides as if she wanted to try and touch the salty water. Her long brown hair waved down her shoulders, covering her chest and rising slowly with it. She was breathing.

“My love,” he whispered as he went on his knees and reached an arm to touch her fingers. This was as far as he was allowed to go. The waves would rise and strike him down if he tried anything else.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times. The sunlight that used to make her skin glow had turned it dry, her lips chapped and her face burned. She tried to hold his hand between hers but she was weak, her grip loose around his fingers. She used to have cold hands; now they were always warm from the sun. When she looked into his eyes, her lips twisted down and her eyelids drooped shut. “You are rotting,” she mumbled, her voice small and raspy. It still carried the sadness she felt.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered, longing to take her in his arms and reassure her. She could see what was happening, she knew what he was doing, but he had to go on. He wouldn’t stop until it was all over. To say he was rotting was an understatement even if it was the truth. He was also dying. He would join her soon.

“Let me go,” she pleaded, staring at him again. She only squeezed his fingers though; the urgency of her request gave her strength. “You have to let me go so I can be with you when the time comes.”

He tried to answer, to tell her he knew she was right even if he wanted to refuse that. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

x

Hwasa stared at the wall through which she knew the police were watching her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her face twisted into a scowl while she ran the events of the last couple of hours in her mind again and again.

She had gotten home and found a body in her living room. She called the police immediately and became the prime suspect. The prime suspect of a murder.

The cop who had handcuffed her entered the room followed by a woman whose friendly face didn’t fool her for one second. Hwasa knew the other was there to trick her. She sat down in front of Hwasa whereas the male officer remained up, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes focused on both of them, but especially on Hwasa.

She hated being looked at like that, as if her sentence had already been carried out. They had caught her right after she had gone through the process that would keep her calm for a few days though, which was why she was not demanding answers or proclaiming her innocence. Everything she said might be used against her. If necessary, she would only speak to defend herself.

“Ahn Hyejin,” the woman started, going through her file as if she had not read everything before entering the room. When she looked at Hwasa again, the file was open where it showed a collection of pictures from the murder scene, a sketch she recognized peeking from under it. “You filed a report against Mr. Kwon Ji Yong a few days ago, claiming he attacked you when you were trying to get home. Can you confirm this is the man behind the assault?”

The female officer spread the pictures of the dead guy on the table in front of Hwasa, ones that showed his face but also others where the gunshot wounds in his chest and groin were visible, a pool of blood spread on the ground under and around him. Hwasa tried not to, but she looked away and closed her eyes for a second. She had seen worse than this, but it still made her stomach twist into knots. Her reaction prompted the woman on the other side of the table to get the sketch and place it over a few of the pictures, right in front of Hwasa.

“This is the man that our sketch artist drew based on the description that you gave him. Pretty similar, don’t you think?”

Hwasa thought she heard a tinge of compassion in the woman’s voice, but it didn’t make sense.

“Did you kill him in self-defense?” She asked softly, as if it would be excusable for Hwasa to have done that. “Was he waiting for you when you got home?” She paused, trying to get Hwasa to look into her eyes. However, Hwasa was determined to keep staring at the sketch to remind herself that, even though she hadn’t been the one to kill him, the guy had deserved it. “It must have been terrible when you realized what was about to happen, and that once again nobody was there to protect you. That’s why you had a gun at home, right? So you could protect yourself?”

Hwasa frowned at that last part. She made the mistake of looking up. The female officer caught her eyes and nodded. It was not at Hwasa she was nodding though, but at her partner. He held a transparent plastic bag that Hwasa hadn’t noticed before, and he put it on the table next to the pictures of the “victim.”

“Your prints are all over the murder weapon.” The guy sounded calm; he was merely stating a fact. As incriminating as that was, it was a truth that Hwasa couldn’t deny. The gun was hers. She had checked it was in the right place a few days ago, when that Yong guy had tried to rape her. She had escaped thanks to her self-defense classes, but she had considered carrying the gun around with her after that. She had done that before, and it had helped her feel safe back then. Maybe if she had taken it with her once again she wouldn’t be involved in this mess.

“We ran it through the system,” the woman said, after her partner went back to his position near the door. He wasn’t exactly guarding it but that was what it looked like. Even though she was not handcuffed anymore, Hwasa had no intentions of trying to escape and giving them another “evidence” of her supposed guilt. “You bought this gun legally, and you’ve never fired it before. But these two shots were precise.” She pointed at each bloody wound in the dead guy’s body. “Have you done this before?”

Hwasa didn’t answer. It was obvious they knew more about this than she did.

x

Taecyeon slipped into the room just as quietly as he had left the other. Chief Mun nodded at him and kept looking at the girl who was now alone with Jomi. That had been a good tactic; the suspect might feel more inclined to talk to another woman, even if Taecyeon had been a mere presence most of the time. But still, it was a male presence. And Taecyeon could look threatening to people who didn’t know him, which was good. Just not at the moment.

“What do you think?” Taecyeon whispered, his eyes also on Ahn Hyejin. They were both paying attention to her body language as much as to her words.

Chief Mun checked a sigh. The initial questioning would still go on for a while. If that didn’t work, they could hold her for a total of seventy-two hours from the moment they arrested her, which left them plenty of time in case she was the murderer. If she was, they would find more evidence than just the murder weapon. Her prints were too obvious; the gun was hers. She did have a motive. But why would she have called the police? Why deny her fault if she could have claimed self-defense?

“We need to process the murder scene,” he said, instead of voicing those contradicting thoughts. His subordinates might raise similar questions. Questions which they would only be able to answer once there was enough evidence on which to base their assumptions.

x

“Hyejin was not at home at the time of the murder.”

Jomi had spent the last half hour going through the suspect’s file and every piece of information they had when Taecyeon told her that. He was holding his phone as if to indicate he had just got a call from Sojin, their computer girl.

“You know those self-defense classes she goes to every week? She was with the group. We caught her on the security camera. She arrived at the gym around 9pm, and she was seen leaving the building at 1:27am. Ji Yong was killed at 1:09.” He paused and looked at the open file . “Even if she left the place through another door, she wouldn’t have been able to go to her house and come back to the gym in such a short time.”

“But she couldn’t have been in class that whole time? And if she was there, why didn’t she tell us? It’s the perfect alibi.”

Taecyeon nodded as if he had anticipated that question. “I think I know why.”

Jomi raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t like it when he tried to be mysterious like that, especially when they were in a hurry. If Hyejin was innocent, that meant there was a murderer out there, and they should be working to find whoever it was.

“That gym is known for offering different PTSD treatments. Some of them are very... unorthodox.” Taecyeon shrugged as if that was nothing. “I thought about questioning her but Eric-- Chief Mun thinks she’ll talk more if you do it,” he corrected himself when Jomi eyed him. Even though Taecyeon was friends with their team leader, none of them were supposed to refer to him by his nickname at work.

Jomi was not so sure she could get that girl to open up. She would think of a way when Taecyeon told her the rest. “Any news from the lab?”

“Chief Mun went back to the crime scene but they’re still processing it. Does Hyejin have a cat?”

She shrugged. There wasn’t anything about that in the file.

“Well, Ji Yong didn’t have one, but there was some cat fur on his body and on the living room floor. They’re trying to find out what kind of cat it is.”

“Cat fur...” That was not completely unfamiliar. “Hey, do you remember that woman who reported an assault against her husband a few months ago, and she said there had been a strange cat around their house but it disappeared after the attack?”

Taecyeon snorted. “You don’t believe the cat had anything to do with it, right?”

Jomi ignored his mocking tone and went on. “What if the cat belongs to the murderer? We did find out that guy was a rapist, right? He was sent to prison. His wife accused us of trying to cover the failure to find one criminal with the arrest of an innocent?”

“Ji Yong did attack our suspect a few days ago...” Taecyeon’s brows furrowed in thought as Jomi tried to process her own line of reasoning. “I’m gonna go back to that case and see if Sojin can find others that have any similarities. You go and talk to Hyejin. See if she’s seen any cat, or if there’s anyone she knows that would try to avenge or protect her. We can’t discard any possibilities yet.”

“Yes, sir,” Jomi raised one eyebrow at him. She was older than Taecyeon but he kept ignoring that. He had just talked as if he were giving her orders even though his tone was mild, which just made him resemble their actual boss. Chief Mun was the one who always spoke calmly to them even through stressful situations. Taecyeon was usually patient, but he did have a temper.

“Sorry, noona,” he retorted, not repentant at all. He sent a charming smile her way before he disappeared down the corridor, towards Sojin’s office.

x

Fifteen hours had passed since the murder occurred when Chief Mun was called to the lab by Choi Minho. He was still new on the team, but he wanted to work in the field. He seemed determined to get that by processing evidence as quickly and efficiently as he could, no matter how many hours it took him to go through all possibilities.

“What do you have for me, boy?” Junghyuk said by way of greeting, his eyes scanning the lab.

“To start, a print with no match in the system,” Minho said, which didn’t justify the excited smile on his face as he displayed the evidence on the computer screen. “It was on that lotus you found in the suspect’s house.”

The chief nodded. When Hyejin was arrested, nobody had paid attention to the flower because of the small garden in front of her house. However, when he went back to the scene, Junghyuk realized that was the only lotus around, and it had been placed next to a framed picture of Hyejin. At first he thought it might have been brought by Ji Yong, but they did have his print, and they had Hyejin’s too. Somebody else had been to her house.

“The print was not on the murder weapon. But Taecyeon-sshi asked me to compare it to other cases-- with weapons of opportunity. When the criminal uses what’s already in the scene and somebody else takes the blame. He told you about the cat fur, right, sir?”

Chief Mun nodded again. Sojin had discovered six other cases with the very same evidence-- Otocolobus manul, or Pallas’s cat, a small wild cat that had been classified Near Threatened over a decade ago. To the chief, that animal’s presence didn’t make sense in a city like Seoul. Maybe in a zoo, in the jungle, but not in a big urban area, especially not in several different violent cases. A cat like that certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed, and if it did belong to somebody it shouldn’t be hard to find out who it was. But as it happened, that was not the only thing that didn’t make sense out of this murder case.

“If this is all the same person, they’re escalating. The first attack we know about was almost a year ago, and the victim almost died. If you can call him a victim.”

Junghyuk frowned. “I know all cases are against rapists, but please refrain from making such comments, Choi.” Minho closed his mouth and acquiesced; the Chief hadn’t raised his voice but the reprimand was there. “We have someone out there who thinks they can do justice with their own hands. I don’t agree with that.”

“I don’t either, sir,” Minho was quick to say. Junghyuk was not entirely convinced, but the other was still new on the job. He would have plenty of opportunity to comprehend that people were not simply divided into good or bad. And that certain views needed to be weighed and reconsidered again and again instead of simply shaped into words.

“Miss Ahn might know more than she’s willing to admit exactly because she thinks Ji Yong deserved what he got.” As he said that, Junghyuk realized there were two things he could do to help the case. One of them he would have to do in person, but that was probably simpler than what he would have to ask of Taecyeon and Jomi. “Minho, send this timeline back to Sojin and ask her to find out about the rapists’ victims-- when and where they were attacked, and if there’s any pattern to this vigilante’s actions. I’m going back to the precinct, but keep me posted.”

x

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