Chapter Text
Gangnam, South Korea, 1988.
The droning of sirens of an ambulance echoed its way down a main road in Gangnam, turning off at a side street, waking the citizens of the nearby apartment buildings, at the quiet, early hour of 2 am. Doors slammed shut and wheels of a stretcher rattled over the cobblestone road, followed by a haunting gasp.
There were drunks and high teens scattered throughout the alleyways, and a semi-sober man, about the age of twenty-one, was sitting in the gutter, clutching a phone from a booth in his clammy hand, whilst heaving his guts up and his back turned to the scene. The paramedics of the ambulance immediately stopped in their tracks and called the police, completely cold and void of colour in their faces.
In minutes, more deafening whining of sirens followed where the ambulance was called to. The police cars and vans screeched to a halt, the commotion finally bringing the residents of the area to peek their heads out of doors that were marginally opened and windows cracked ajar. Everyone was curious as to what was happening at such an ungodly hour of the morning. More slamming of vehicle doors and shining lights from torches filled the dark alleyway, scattering those lurking stumbling drunkenly in the shadows; all except the man in the gutter with the white telephone, surrounded by his own stomach fluids.
Within the hour, the area was surrounded by police tape, and older members of the public creeping out of their homes to see what the fuss was about. Their eyes were met with the scattered body of what was presumed to be a girl, probably in her early twenties.
A tall, black haired officer emerged from his police car, followed by an older slightly taller officer with brunet hair, and slowly, cautiously, approach the man hunched over on the side of the narrow road. The darker haired man touched his shoulder; the sick man jumped half a foot into the air and landed on his feet.
The black haired officer, almost as muscular as the other man, puffed up his chest as though he was challenging the drunk man to a fight, but stood protectively behind the other man.
The drunk man had light brown hair, flecked with blond highlights, and he stood shorter than both officers did, but not by too much. He was about the same age as the brunette officer, but certainly not the black haired officer. The shorter man’s eyes were blood shot, make up cracked on his face from the saliva dribbled down his chin and dried on his neck, his no longer expensive clothing stained by his own vomit. The reason for his vomiting had nothing to do with the fact he had been drinking, but from the scarring discovery he had made on his journey back to his apartment.
“I honestly just found her like that! I couldn’t have done that to anyone!” The man wailed in desperation. “You have to believe me –”
The brunet officer put his hand on the crazed man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “Of course we believe you,” he said in a smooth alto-like voice. “We just need you to answer some of our questions.”
The man’s breathing was fast, looking as though he could have an anxiety attack at any second; he was on edge. His eye movement was rapid, glancing about with extreme caution. However, he nods, closing his eyes and slowly steadying his breaths.
The brunet officer pulled the man lightly, one arm around his shoulders protectively, his opposite hand clutching the arm closest to him, and led him to a police car. He opened the door of the vehicle, making the shorter man sit sideways on the seat so he could face him, his hands now on each of his arms as he crouched in front of the red-eyed man.
“I am Detective Inspector Jung Jaehyun,” the voice was soothing to anyone’s ears. “And this is Detective Inspector Seo Youngho,” he gestured to the older man behind him, knowing exactly where the other was standing. “Are you able to give us your name?”
The man sitting on the car seat was completely lulled by the man crouched in front of him, he almost answered him immediately. “I’m Dong Sicheng.”
“Your age and occupation?”
“I’m twenty-one and I’m a student.” Sicheng’s eyes were not meeting Jaehyun’s, but staring at his own lap.
“Where were you headed at the time when you found the girl?”
This question made Sicheng hesitate. No matter how soothing Jaehyun’s voice was to his ears, he was still reluctant to tell a detective that he had been drinking to the point of almost blacking-out. Sicheng soon got over this worry, but still not looking Jaehyun in the eyes.
“I was … heading home from the club.” He spoke truthfully, and both Youngho and Jaehyun heard the sincerity in his voice. “And … and then I saw … blood … everywhere.” Sicheng visibly shuddered. “There was so much.” His body was shaking. “I thought I was just that drunk, but then I saw … her …”
Youngho looked deeply into his eyes. “Who? Who did you see?” His voice was not as soothing as Jaehyun’s, but it did not seem to make anything worse.
Sicheng finally looked up and stared into Youngho’s eyes, the emotion in his eyes heartbreaking, coupling with his ruined demeanour. “Yuyan. Although it wasn’t Yuyan, you know? She’d been ripped apart!”
Sicheng finally broke down into body shaking sobs, tears streaming down his face, gasping for air that seemed almost non-existent. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, feeling extremely distraught and vulnerable.
“She was my best mate’s sister.” He choked out, almost inaudible.
Jaehyun looked pityingly upon to poor boy breaking down in front of him. He did not want to force him to talk to them anymore, but he needed to. Jaehyun thought of ways he could make him feel even marginally better, and an idea popped into his head.
“Do you have any friends that live near here?” He asked, trying to make his already calm tone almost dream-like.
Sicheng nodded shakily.
“What are their names?”
Sicheng’s eyes widened slightly. “… Jungwoo … Yuta … and …” He choked out a sob and looked straight into Jaehyun’s eyes. “… K-Kun.”
Jaehyun thought for a bit. Could this Kun be related to Yuyan in any way? “… Do you know their phone numbers?”
Sicheng nodded again, reciting their numbers, with an almost guilty and reluctant tone, as Youngho quickly jotted the numbers down and headed for the telephone booth a little way up the alleyway. The remains of Yuyan had now been collected and put into a body bag to be taken back to be checked out, but the blood had yet to be cleaned. A detective was scouting the area; his faded peach coloured hair reflecting bright in the floodlights, contrasting with the dark trench coat and black, straight-legged suit pants and patterned dress shirt. He was Lee Taeyong, and he was the head detective; the man in charge of this section.
Youngho quickly reached the phone booth, pulling out his notepad with the numbers provided by Sicheng.
Yuta and Jungwoo turned up together. Their height differences were not the only contrast to the pair; Yuta was short in stature, with pink hair, and a developing scowl sweeping over his features. He was definitely older than both Sicheng and Jungwoo, but not by too much. His true emotions seemed to be masked by his unapproachable look, but it was obvious that he cared very much about Sicheng.
Jungwoo was almost the complete opposite, with bright orange hair and younger, softer, innocent features. His, most probably, usually very bright appearance was taken over by a concerned one, betraying his external image. It was as if something dark was hidden inside him for too long, and it had finally surfaced, with no way of hiding.
Both boys mimicked each other’s appearance, dressed in tracksuits, which were most likely their sleepwear. The two were probably in too much panic to even register their attire, but it was not as if anyone was going to judge them, considering the situation at hand. Youngho pointed in the direction of the police car, which held an almost hysterical Sicheng and a honey-voiced Jaehyun.
Just minutes later, a blond haired boy, clad in an oversized violet jumper and dark slacks that loosely fitted to his legs. His whole appearance seemed almost virginal; his deep caramel eyes wide open, his skin a smooth pale colour, and his arms were wrapped around himself, as though he were either comforting himself or he was trying to keep his body warmth inside his large hoodie, and the chilling nip in the air out.
Youngho, unknowing of if this boy was another one of Sicheng’s friends, stayed in his place, watching the angelic boy as he gracefully, but tentatively, made his way over to the crime scene. He was headed in the general direction of Youngho, although he was not facing him. It was as though he was too embarrassed to approach anyone, but regardless, he did.
“Um,” he started, as soon as he reached Youngho, staying a polite distance away from him. Youngho could hear a slight accent in his voice. “I was meant to meet a friend of mine here?” He stated this as though it were a question; as though he was uncertain of himself.
Up close, the boy was much shorter than he, even shorter than Yuta was. It was obvious that the boy was younger than him, but the man’s voice reminded Youngho of a puppy; clear of worries, and as pure as a young child, although with the correct measure of maturity. It was as though it could have been playful in the correct environment, but considering the circumstances, it was suited.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Youngho questioned, quizzing the boy to see if he was whom he was waiting for.
“Dong Sicheng,” he answered, looking up at Youngho for a split second, but soon avoided his gaze once more. If Youngho had of blinked right at that moment, he surely would have missed it.
“And your name?”
“Qian Kun.” He mumbled almost sleepily.
“So you’re Qian Kun?” This was the third person Youngho was waiting for. Kun nodded absentmindedly, his dark eyes searching for something to his right. “Okay. He’s this way …”
Youngho gestured to where he was looking, and as he slowly strolled slightly past him, he reached out with his other hand, placing it on his upper back as though he was guiding him. Kun did not even flinch or turn back; there was no uncertainty about the action, nor were there any questions asked.
Youngho stood next to Kun when we reached the car in which Sicheng was crying. Jungwoo was talking to him, attempting to stop his flowing tears and slow his rapid breathing, while Yuta silently crouched next to him, holding Sicheng’s hand.
Sicheng looked up when he sensed people approach, and upon seeing Kun, he launched himself out of the seat and attacked him with a large, heartfelt embrace. Youngho had only let his hand drop from Kun’s back seconds before. Sicheng held Kun in his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder. Kun, seemingly calm, wrapped his arms around Sicheng in an attempt to calm him, occasionally glancing at Youngho questioningly.
“Kunnie,” Sicheng gasped out. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry –”
Kun reached his hand up to stroke the back of Sicheng’s neck, shushing him. “It’s okay.”
“No, Kun. It isn’t okay.” Sicheng forced himself out of Kun’s arms and placed his face in his hands, before looking back up at him. “Yuyan, she –” Sicheng was unable to finish his sentence.
Kun tried reaching out to Sicheng, but Sicheng shoved his hands away from him, only to grab onto them. “Chengie …”
“Kun … Yuyan; she,” Sicheng swallowed more of his tears so he could speak relatively clearly, “she was murdered!” Sicheng choked, coming to terms with what had happened and collapsed on the floor, clutching at Kun’s ankle loosely.
Kun’s eyes went blank. No emotion was displayed on his face, even at this news. It all felt surreal; completely fake, and Kun did not feel as though he had a response, other than, “no she wasn’t. She’s at home.”
Sicheng did not reply, but his sobs had ceased as he looked up at his best friend, tears still pouring down his face and his cheeks puffy and red, as he sported a distraught expression at the fact that Kun doesn’t believe him. He had no way of responding to Kun’s ignorance. Sicheng’s mouth opened and closed, resembling a fish out of water.
Youngho reached his hand out to lightly cup Kun’s shoulder. “We asked him questions before you arrived, and this was the same information that he provided for Jaehyun and me.” Youngho tilted his head sceptically. “Although, we still had to take the body to be analysed. Then we can reveal her identity.”
Sicheng shook his head sadly staring at his hands helplessly.
“But,” Youngho continued, “it was pretty evident that your friend Sicheng wasn’t lying to us.” Youngho addressed Kun. “Was Yuyan someone of importance to you, Kun?”
“She is my sister.” Kun confirmed Jaehyun’s suspicions, the young man putting emphasis on the present tense in his statement. “My younger sister. We live together; I left her at the house, asleep, to come here.”
Jaehyun spoke up. “Did you see her before you left?”
“Well … no, but –”
“We can’t say anything for certain yet, so optimism is your best friend right now.” Jaehyun looked sombre, “But it could also be your worst enemy. Keep your friends close, and let yourself rely on others. All of you.”
Jaehyun slapped Youngho on his back once and gestured with his thumb to behind him, where the car was.
“We’ll let you know if there are any updates you should know about. Let’s go, Seo.”
Youngho froze before reaching into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out what looked to be a business card. He held it out to whoever would take it. “My work number, in case of any new information. Please, feel free to call at any time.”
Yuta took the card, as no one else went to, glancing at it before shoving it in his pocket.
Jaehyun turned on his heels and walked off in the opposite direction of where the others were, Youngho hesitating before following Jaehyun to the vehicle. Youngho’s hand hovered over the handle of the car door, and he thought deeply to himself. His emotions confused, Youngho glanced back at the ethereal boy, his blond hair bounced animatedly about his face. If Sicheng were correct about Kun’s sister being the murder victim, how would the boy’s good-natured persona change? Youngho averted his eyes back to the vehicle door, and planted himself down in the passenger seat, next to Jaehyun who had his hands on the steering wheel.
“You keep looking at the guy … Kun was his name?” Jaehyun stated as they backed out of the narrow street. “You can’t show too much emotional connection, you know. It is unprofessional.
So, I hope it is all just an illusion to me, and I am overthinking the situation. Am I right to think that way, Johnny?”
Youngho stared at his lap. He knew what he was supposed to say, but was that the truth?
“Of course, Sir.” Youngho reluctantly conformed to Jaehyun’s authority.
Jaehyun glanced over at Youngho briefly before replacing his eyes onto the street light-lit road.
“Johnny, you can call me Jaehyun. I won’t take offence; we’re friends, are we not?”
Youngho laughed breathily. “Of course, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun smiled to himself, and they continued down the midnight coloured road.