TFN C80

Chapter 80

“It’s been a while, sir.”

Cheongmun spoke calmly to the inspector from the Mapo Police Department sitting across from him. The inspector, who looked like he’d aged overnight from too many night shifts, scratched at his patchy beard and gave a tired smile.

“It really has. But I don’t recall hearing I was supposed to meet anyone else here today…”

Trailing off, Inspector Park’s eyes shifted toward Wonhyo.

Cheongmun, sitting beside him, followed the glance but answered in an even tone.

“This wasn’t a scheduled visit. I’m not so idle as to stick my nose into a case outside my jurisdiction.”

He flicked a glance toward the tablet on the table, then met the inspector’s gaze again.

“But there’s one thing I wanted to confirm.”

“Important enough to come in person, I take it?”

“Yes.”

The inspector hid his curiosity behind a polite smile.

“Well, I’m not directly involved either. This came to me through a few different channels.”

“I’m aware. I also know the National Police Agency has already set up a special task force for it.”

“Then wouldn’t it be faster to go through them? A team leader like you should have no trouble getting access.”

The inspector didn’t bother hiding how uncomfortable he was discussing an active case without the assigned investigator present.

Cheongmun tilted his chin slightly.

“For me to get involved officially, I need a concrete justification. But since the related parties are all civilians, my department can’t intervene yet.”

“Then…”

“Even so, I can’t ignore the similarities to the previous incident.”

He cut in before the inspector could draw a line between them.

The inspector frowned, glancing at Wonhyo. There was only one “previous incident” all three of them could be referring to. He’d heard a partial account of it from Wonhyo before—enough to grasp the gist. Cheongmun knew that too; after all, Wonhyo had told him himself.

Cheongmun lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, and the inspector leaned forward.

“You’re suggesting the two cases might be connected?”

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

The inspector gave a short, humorless laugh.

“I admit, since all the suspects were civilians, we never even considered awakened-related crime. But isn’t that case still classified?”

“Preliminary information sharing was authorized—about twenty-eight minutes ago.”

That meant the Special Bureau had just lifted the data restriction—an official sign that interdepartmental coordination was required. Not full disclosure, but enough.

The inspector straightened and sighed.

“I’ll ask the initial response team if they found anything unusual—any suspicious objects, for example.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.”

Then he turned toward Wonhyo, who’d been quietly sipping his murky green drink.

“You’re going along on Saturday, then?”

Wonhyo twitched, eyes darting sideways.

Cheongmun drew in a slow breath, his composure unbroken. When Wonhyo finally glanced at him and bit his lip, the answer came out in a hesitant murmur.

“If possible, yes.”

That seemed to surprise the inspector. His eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

As the inspector studied him from head to toe, Cheongmun waited silently, letting the scrutiny pass.

“Well, in that case, I’ll mark both of you as attending. Better two than one.”

Cheongmun leaned slightly to one side. He hadn’t heard a thing about this supposed plan for Saturday, yet somehow his schedule was already decided.

Beside him, Wonhyo shifted as well, looking faintly embarrassed as he explained,

“It’s… a request from the Dongdaemun precinct. They asked me to take a look.”

There was no need to specify what exactly they’d be “looking at.” The lowered tone in his voice told Cheongmun everything he needed to know.

“I see,” he said simply.

He straightened again. Across the table, the inspector squinted, chewing on a piece of ice.

“Is there something you wanted to say?” Cheongmun asked.

“…I’m not sure,” the inspector muttered. “Maybe yes, maybe no. Either way, I’ll probably ask you later. For now—if you find out anything, please pass it along to us.”

“Of course.”

The inspector set down his empty cup, gathered his coat and belongings, and stood.

“You heading out?” Wonhyo asked, watching his uncle tidy up the table.

“Yeah. Might as well try to clock out at a decent hour for once.”

His uncle chuckled.

“Let’s have dinner with your mother sometime soon.”

“Sure.”

Wonhyo nodded obediently. It wasn’t really a suggestion—more like a family summons he’d have no choice but to attend.

His uncle gave Cheongmun a brief nod, then strode out the same way he’d entered.

With a long sigh, Wonhyo sank back into his seat like a balloon deflating. Cheongmun sat down again beside him, quiet as ever.

Wonhyo glanced at the empty seat across from them. Normally, when three people sat at a two-sided table and one left, the person on the outside would move across.

But Cheongmun made no such move.

So they sat side by side. Wonhyo stole a sidelong glance.

Cheongmun had one leg crossed, leaning comfortably back in his chair.

“It’s been ten days since I last saw you, hasn’t it?”

Wonhyo flinched slightly and looked away.

Well—for Cheongmun, maybe it had been ten days. But for him… considering the dreams, he couldn’t exactly say that.

“…You’ve been busy with work and all those late nights,” he mumbled, licking his dry lips.

It wasn’t an apology so much as an excuse. When he dared glance again, he noticed Cheongmun’s gaze flick briefly toward the empty air in front of him.

Is he checking his status window? Wonhyo blinked, then quickly looked away again.

The silence felt strangely heavy.

In dreams, there had been no space between them—no clothes, no restraint—but now, wrapped in layers of fabric and propriety, the quiet was suffocating.

They’d talked constantly through calls and messages, yet meeting in person felt like seeing a stranger—someone you’d known only through a screen.

He felt close, yet distantly self-conscious all at once.

And beneath that, guilt—because while he’d done everything imaginable with Cheongmun in those dreams, this real Cheongmun sitting next to him wasn’t the same.

His mind tangled itself into knots.

Then Cheongmun’s fingers began to tap lightly on the armrest. Tok, tok.

Wonhyo’s thoughts snapped back—to the memory of that same gesture, those same fingers—

He swallowed hard and, in a desperate bid to silence his mind, gulped down the last of his sugary drink.

Maybe his “resistance” really had weakened after ten days.

The sugar hit his veins, warming him from the inside.

He’d ordered it to calm his nerves before talking about murder cases, not to fight off intrusive daydreams.

But with that small burst of courage, he found himself turning toward Cheongmun—

only to catch those sharp, dark eyes already on him.

What? Do I have something on my face?

Feeling oddly flustered, he rubbed his mouth.

Cheongmun’s lips curved faintly. “There’s nothing there.”

“Oh… you were staring, so I thought maybe—”

“My apologies,” Cheongmun said smoothly.

Wonhyo shrugged, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

“By the way,” Cheongmun added, “is that drink supposed to count as dinner?”

“What?”

Wonhyo looked at his empty cup, then shook his head.

“No, technically it’s lunch. I’ll eat later.”

He wasn’t growing anymore, but a single drink was nowhere near filling.

“Perfect, then. Let’s have dinner together.”

Wonhyo glanced toward the window.

The sun hadn’t fully set, but the gray dusk was beginning to seep between the buildings. Streetlights flickered on one by one.

It must’ve been around five—still early for dinner.

“Now?”

“Why not? I accidentally skipped lunch.”

“You didn’t eat?” Wonhyo frowned.

Cheongmun sighed. “The meeting included a meal, but unfortunately, the company was… indigestible. I stuck to coffee.”

“Oof.”

Wonhyo winced in sympathy.

Still, knowing Cheongmun, he suspected it wasn’t the others who’d lost their appetite—it was Cheongmun’s presence that had done it.

Regardless, he did look tired. The dark circles beneath his eyes proved it.

“What do you feel like eating?” Wonhyo asked.

“Well,” Cheongmun mused, “do you know any good places nearby?”

“Me?” Wonhyo pointed at himself.

Cheongmun nodded. “You’ve probably been around here a lot because of Inspector Park.”

“Oh, right.”

Only then did Wonhyo remember—they were right behind the Mapo precinct. He’d eaten here plenty of times after meetings with his uncle.

“I’ve only tried kimbap and burgers around here,” he admitted.

Cheap, portable meals—typical precinct fare. Anything requiring a bowl or chopsticks was a luxury.

“…I’ve eaten far too much of that myself,” Cheongmun said, immediately dismissing the idea.

“How about,” he suggested with a faint smile, “we step out and choose something properly?”