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The sound of footsteps sent Chanhee scurrying back into his hiding place behind the stack of chairs in the corner. The coldness of the concrete floor seeped through the thin fabric of his school uniform. He pulled his cardigan tighter around him, shivering.
“Come on out, boy. You know you can’t hide from me.”
The footsteps grew louder.
Chanhee was sure his own heartbeat was audible, as he tried to shrink deeper into the shadows. He squeezed his eyes tight, willing the man to go away.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
All he could hear now was the beating of his heart.
Slowly he pried open his eyes.
“Hello, Chanhee.” The man leered at him.
Chanhee screamed.
A warmth spread down his legs.
Chanhee’s eyes shot open. The ceiling fan rotated leisurely above him. It’s okay, it was just a dream. His brain tried to talk down his body from its fight or flight response. Gradually, his breathing and heart rate calmed down. He slipped out of bed and stripped his sheets for the third time in a week. Get a hold of yourself, Chanhee. You’re a grown-ass man. Don’t let him affect you like this.
With the washing machine now running, Chanhee set to work making a mug of hot chocolate to calm the frightened seven-year-old inside of him.
“You okay, Chanhee?” Youngbin appeared in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Yeah, just that nightmare again.”
“It’s not just a nightmare, Chanhee,” his cousin grabbed the hand that was furiously over-stirring the hot chocolate, “It’s a fucking memory. You need to get help.”
Chanhee sighed and sank into a chair, “I know. I thought that I’d grown out of it. It’s just this case. It’s hitting a little close to home.”
Youngbin laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Can’t you pass this one off to someone else?”
He had thought of that, but something in his head had resisted that idea, convincing him that maybe this case could give him some closure.
“No, I need to do this. For myself and for him.” That was, after all, the reason Chanhee had decided to become a prosecutor in the first place, to clean up the streets of gangs and criminals who terrorized this city.
He often wondered about what his fate might have been, if Jaeyoon hadn’t helped him escape his abductors.
Jaeyoon, the older boy who had been brave enough to selflessly help another child but too scared to take that same freedom for himself. Chani wished that he could believe that Jaeyoon had survived the horrors and eventually managed to escape, but he knew the odds on the street. Instead, he’d made it his life’s mission to prevent other such lives from destruction. It was his way of giving back, of saying thank you to the friend he couldn’t save.
“This gang you’re going after, it’s in that same part of the city, yeah?” Youngbin inquired in a soft tone, “Are you thinking it’s the same one?”
Chanhee shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve never heard anyone associate Crystal Sun with any kidnappings. It’s just being on those same streets again. It’s dredging up the past.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Youngbin frowned, “Would it help if I stayed with you tonight?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just sleep out here on the couch.”
“If you say so,” Youngbin said, clearly not convinced, “You know I’m just a shout away, if you need anything.”
Chanhee nodded and, as soon as Youngbin left the room, pulled out the case files to review.
He had a great team in the violent crimes department. Sanghyuk was dogged in his pursuit of suspects, willing to put in as much time and effort as necessary to make sure they had a solid case against these criminals, and Seokwoo always kept them organized and on track. They were proud of the fact that, out of all of the teams in the prosecutors’ office, they’d never had a mistrial.
Chanhee flipped through the report. Illegal gambling and weapons charges. That was the direction they were taking the case. Of course, there was much more for which the leader of the Crystal Sun could be indicted, but these ones made for the strongest case. It had taken Sanghyuk long enough to obtain solid enough evidence to build this case. They were not going to let it go to waste.
“Guess who you get to fight in court?” Kim Inseong plopped himself into the chair by Chanhee’s desk.
Chanhee smiled. Going against Inseong hyung was always an exciting challenge. He had a creative way with his defense, which always served to sharpen Chanhee’s own skills. “Who are you taking on this time?”
“Who do you think?” Inseong’s eyes glittered, “I’m defending that crime boss of yours who’s all over the news.”
Chanhee’s jaw dropped, “Did he ask for you specifically?”
“Nope, just wanted a public defender.”
“What is he thinking? Is this a joke to him?” Chanhee was starting to feel a little bit offended that his suspect wasn’t taking him seriously. Inseong may be an excellent lawyer, but he would have thought that the Crystal Sun kept a high-priced lawyer on retainer.
“I’ll find out,” Inseong promised, “I’m meeting him right after this.”
“Great, I’ll be ready whenever he is.”
“You know I’m not gonna let him say anything,” Inseong said, “What’s the point in even trying to interview him?”
“You don’t always need words to say something,” Chanhee smirked, “and don’t worry, we’ve got enough on him regardless. It’s all a formality, really.”
“I’m not worried,” Inseong huffed, “Same bet as usual?”
“Loser buys beef? Hell yeah!”
“Great,” Inseong stuck out his hand, “May the best man win.”
Chanhee took his hand, “May justice prevail,” he smiled.
“You fucker.”
Chanhee laughed at Inseong’s mock indignation, as the man left his office. He knew that Inseong cared as much about justice as himself, even if he was stuck defending such a vile criminal. He didn’t envy the man’s job.
Chanhee felt unsettled. He and Sanghyuk had been running interviews all day, and it was odd how many people were willing to testify against the powerful crime boss.
“You don’t think that Inseong has something to do with this, do you?” he asked his team members over lunch.
“How would he?” Sanghyuk said around a mouth full of noodles.
“Well, you know how creative he can be. Maybe it’s part of his defense strategy.”
“Like getting us to drop our guard because we are overwhelmed with evidence and miss something huge that he can use?” Seokwoo offered.
“Yeah! Do you think that’s possible?”
Sanghyuk reached over to pinch Chanhee’s cheek, “You’re so cute when you’re paranoid. Want me to seduce him and make him spill all his secrets?”
“That is absolutely not necessary, you whore,” Chanhee kicked him in the shin, “Let’s just get through all of the interviews and make sure we’re paying attention to any weaknesses the defense might exploit.” They had a lot of work to do before tomorrow when they would finally get to confront the defendant.
The press was all over the arrival of the leader of the Crystal Sun for the interview with the prosecution. Chanhee demurred requests for comments regarding the investigation. There’d be plenty of opportunities to speak to the press once the case was concluded. Instead, he watched from his office window as the police escorted the defendant, bound and masked, up the steps of the building.
Chanhee grabbed his suit coat and the folders on his desk and made his way down to the interrogation room.
Sanghyuk and Seokwoo were waiting for him in the observation room.
“How long?” He asked.
“Five minutes,” Seokwoo answered.
“Good, they can wait a little longer then.”
“I – uh,” Seokwoo spoke up, “I asked him to remove the mask, but Attorney Kim refused.”
Chanhee let out an undignified snort. “That fox.” He should have known not to have made that comment about being able to elicit information without words. It was just like the attorney to recognize an opportunity to try to take advantage of.
Chanhee studied the two men. Inseong was speaking softly to his client, while the other kept his eyes lowered, nodding or shaking his head in response. He definitely looked tense – a behavior Chanhee would have expected from someone much lower in the gang’s hierarchy.
“Are we sure we got the leader?”
Sanghyuk gave him an offended look, “Who do you think I am? I did my research and cross-verified with many different sources. It’s all in the report.”
“No, you’re right, I just… something’s off,” Chanhee sighed, “Well, you ready to do this?”
“Absolutely,” Sanghyuk followed him out into the interrogation room.
“I’m going to need you to remove your mask,” Chanhee got straight to the issue as he sat down across from the defendant.
Inseong spoke up, “I already told your assistant that it was out of the question.”
Chanhee shot him an exasperated look, “This isn’t about your little games, Attorney Kim, it’s a matter of obtaining proper records of this interview.”
“But he’s not – “
“It’s okay,” the man interjected, pulling down his own mask and looking Chanhee in the eyes for the first time.
Chanhee’s blood ran cold.
It had been years, and much had changed, but there was no mistaking the face he had seen so often in his dreams.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to maintain a steady voice.
He stood up and left the room, hoping that he had not betrayed the turmoil he was feeling. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he collapsed against the wall. His chest tightened, and he felt himself gasping for air.
A moment later, and Seokwoo was at his side, worrying over him, until Chanhee was finally able to breathe.
Chanhee glared fiercely at Sanghyuk as he emerged from the room, “You made a mistake,” he accused, “That’s not Lee Jaeyong. His name is Jaeyoon.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sanghyuk gave him a confused look, “Isn’t it in my report? I thought for sure I included the record of his name change.”
Chanhee stared at him in disbelief.
“It’s like a thing in the Crystal Sun,” Sanghyuk went on, “The name of the leader is passed down from generation to generation. His name was legally changed when his father handed over control of the organization to him.”
“You’re lying,” Chanhee felt like he was about to cry. It couldn’t be true. Jaeyoon was a victim.
“Why would I lie?”
“Chanhee,” Seokwoo put a hand on his shoulder, “I think you need to take a break. We can reschedule this interview.”
“No!"
Now he was feeling pissed off. His head spun from the rollercoaster of emotions he’d gone through in the past few minutes, “I need answers.” He pushed himself up off the ground and stormed back into the interrogation room.
“What the hell, Jaeyoon!” he slammed his palm on the table.
Inseong shot out of his chair, “Prosecutor Kang!”
“Chanhee –” Jaeyoon spoke gently.
“Mr. Lee! Don’t say –”
“ – It’s good to see you again.”
Inseong fell back into his chair with an exasperated sigh.
Chanhee glared at Jaeyoon, “You lied to me. I thought you were my friend,” his voice cracked with emotion, “I worried about you, and all this time… I bet you had a good laugh with your friends about how hard I tried to get you to run away with me.”
“I never lied. I just never corrected your assumptions,” Jaeyoon’s eyes shone with emotion, “and I wanted to go with you, but I knew you’d have a better chance of making it without me. I’m glad to see you are okay. There’s not a day that I didn’t wonder how you were doing.”
Chanhee scoffed and sat back down. He flipped open his folder to the list of charges.
“Illegal possession of firearms…” he started reading down the list.
“Yes.”
Chanhee looked up in surprise. Jaeyoon was looking straight into his eyes.
“Mr. Lee! Don’t say another word!” Inseong protested.
“I’d never lie to you, Chanhee,” Jaeyoon promised, not breaking eye contact, “What else do you have?”
“Unbelievable!” Inseong threw his hands in the air.
Chanhee tore his eyes away from the other man’s and returned to the list.
“Three counts of illegal distribution of firearms.”
“Nine.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nine counts of illegal distribution of firearms,” Jaeyoon repeated, “but, uh, if you don’t have the evidence, I’m afraid you’re on your own. I’m no snitch.”
“Fair enough,” Chanhee replied, “Sanghyuk, you getting all this?”
“Huh? Oh yeah!” Sanghyuk started typing furiously into his laptop, “You can keep going.”
They went on like that for another hour, Lee Jaeyoon confirming every detail of the case they had against him, and Chanhee resisting any attempts by Jaeyoon to discuss his personal life.
Inseong was half bald from pulling his hair by the time the interview was over. “You owe me an explanation,” he hissed at Chanhee as they left, “This’ll end my career for sure.”
Chanhee collapsed back into his chair, the emotional toll too much.
“Damn, Chanhee!” Sanghyuk whistled, “That was something else!”
Seokwoo came and joined them, “Are you okay?” he asked, “What was all that about? How did you know him?”
“I can’t talk about it,” Chanhee felt exhausted, “not yet anyway. I need some time to process this. Sanghyuk, go ahead and follow up on the new information. Text if you need anything from me for the investigation. I’m going home.” He grabbed his things and made his way out of the building, ignoring and pushing through the mass of media clamoring again for information.
Youngbin found him lying on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, eating ice cream, and watching the news reporters try to analyze Jaeyoon’s radiant smile, Inseong’s look of disgust, and his own distracted appearance.
“What is it?” he asked, nudging Chanhee over to make room on the couch for himself.
“It’s him,” Chanhee muttered, “I owe my fucking life to the man I’m supposed to prosecute.”
Youngbin stared at the screen where Jaeyoon’s face was lit up by camera flashes. “He seems happy,” he took a bite of ice cream from Chanhee’s spoon.
“He’s crazy,” Chanhee concluded, “has to be. Why else would he agree to all the charges? There’s something else at play here, and I need to get to the bottom of it.”
It took a couple days for Sanghyuk to finish the investigation. Everything checked out, and Seokwoo drew up the confession. Chanhee gave Inseong a courtesy call and headed over to the detention center to get Jaeyoon’s signature.
Inseong met him at the front entrance, “He’s got visitors right now,” he informed him.
Chanhee caught sight of the two men talking to Jaeyoon, as the guard went to tell them that their time was up. They both appeared upset, though one was definitely shouting in Jaeyoon’s face.
“You go on ahead,” Chanhee told Inseong, “I’m gonna try to catch up with those guys.”
He jogged over to intercept them, “Hey! I saw you talking to Jaeyoon. Are you friends of his too? Gosh! I was so surprised to see him on TV. I hope he remembers me. It has been fifteen years, but we were really close back then. How is he? His lawyer just got here, so who knows how long that will take, am I right?”
The less angry man returned a polite smile, “Nice to meet you…”
“Chanhee,” he supplied.
“Oh…” the man’s eyes widened, “I do know you. Jaeyoon has talked about you. He’ll be so happy to see you,” he stuck out his hand, “I’m Taeyang, by the way, and this is Hwi.”
Chanhee smiled, delighted with how well this was going. “I’d given up on ever finding him,” he admitted, “I owe him so much. Is it true what they said on the news that he’s pleading guilty?”
Taeyang sighed heavily, “We tried talking some sense into him, but he’s hopeless.”
“He’s gone insane,” Hwi huffed, “letting Dragon’s Gate get under his skin like that.”
Dragon’s Gate, Chanhee mused. What did Dragon’s Gate have to do with anything? It had been nearly a year since that criminal organization had been raided and a good number of its members indicted.
“Prosecutor Kang!” the officer at the desk called out, “the prisoner is ready for you.”
Chanhee smiled at Taeyang and Hwi, “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” he said, watching the blood drain from their faces. He turned and followed the officer to the visitation area.
For as willing as Jaeyoon had been to talk about his crimes, he was extraordinarily tight-lipped about Dragon’s Gate. Chanhee took note of how rattled the man appeared with that line of questioning, and, as soon as he had obtained his signature on the confession and interrogation record, Chanhee called Sanghyuk to have him investigate any connections between Jaeyoon and Dragon’s Gate.
Within a week Sanghyuk was handing over his report. “From what I could gather, there’s been an ongoing blood feud between Crystal Sun and Dragon’s Gate for generations. Turf wars, bombings, assassinations,” he informed Chanhee, “at least until 2007. Then it all stopped. There have been some rumblings in recent months about the old rivalry, but nothing that could be substantiated and no actual reports of violence breaking out. Yet,” he added.
“Thanks,” Chanhee said gratefully, flipping through the report.
Sanghyuk shifted awkwardly in front of his desk.
“There’s, uh, one more thing, I didn’t want to include it in the report until you approved it.” Sanghyuk handed over another folder.
There, on the first page, was a picture of Chanhee’s father.
Forcing himself to overcome the shock, Chanhee read on. The report alleged that Mr. Kang had purchased the services of Dragon’s Gate, and that the Crystal Sun had kidnapped his son as a message to the rival gang that nothing and no one was off limits.
“Chanhee,” Sanghyuk said softly, “I don’t have to say anything about it, if you don’t want anyone else to know.”
Chanhee shot him appreciative smile, “Thanks hyung. It isn’t something I’ve been trying to hide. It’s just how do you tell your work colleagues that you were kidnapped and imprisoned as a kid?” He looked back down at the pile of new information. A theory was already starting to build in his head.
“You want to suspend the prosecution?” Chanhee’s boss questioned with disbelief.
“Yes?” Chanhee squirmed in his seat under the intense gaze of the chief prosecutor.
“Well then, explain.”
Chanhee swallowed hard and pulled out his notes. “First,” he started, “the defendant has been extremely cooperative with the investigation and has shown clear signs of remorse. I do not consider him to be immediate danger to society at large, and believe that he can be maintained under our protection and surveillance services.”
“But why should we do that?”
“I suspect that the defendant has an underlying reason for wanting to be convicted. I have reasons to believe that this is tied to the rival gang Dragon’s Gate. I would not be surprised, if he is hoping to obtain access to one or more of the members of Dragon’s Gate in prison. I therefore propose suspending the prosecution until this matter can be fully investigated and settled.”
The chief sighed, “Prosecutor Kang, I see your point, but this is a very high-profile case at the moment. The public is very eager to see justice served. It also is not our responsibility to protect criminals in prison. That falls under the purview of the Correctional Service. You will not be held accountable for anything that happens after sentencing, so, you can either take your open-and-shut case to the court, or I’ll give it to another prosecutor.”
“Yes, sir,” Chanhee bowed and left the room with a heavy heart. He felt the debt he owed Jaeyoon hanging over him, and he wanted to protect the man from making a mistake and reigniting the dormant feud.
From there, everything moved quickly. With Jaeyoon’s full cooperation, there was no need for an actual trial. The court rendered a guilty verdict and sentenced him to five years in prison.
Chanhee fully expected to hear news of violence breaking out in the prison or the resumption of turf warfare in the streets. Instead, after only two months in prison, Jaeyoon escaped.
So did a high-ranking member of Dragon’s Gate.
Worried for Jaeyoon’s safety, Chanhee pooled all his resources towards locating Baek Zuho. He knew he couldn’t look directly for Jaeyoon without drawing attention from the authorities, so he whipped up this alternative strategy. Despite his confidence in Jaeyoon’s ability to take care of himself, he knew he’d rest easier knowing that his rival from Dragon’s Gate was not a threat.
Sanghyuk was more than willing to assist in the scheme, knowing Jaeyoon’s importance to Chanhee. Between the two of them, they had plenty of sources on the streets.
Besides learning his real name, Juho, and that he’d been passed over for promotion in the organization several times, nothing seemed to solidify. Sure, they got leads here and there, but they all ended in dead ends.
“We’re never gonna find him, are we?” Chanhee sighed, collapsing back into his desk after another failed lead, “He’s probably gunning to take Jaeyoon down in order to prove himself to his leader and finally make moves in Dragon’s Gate.”
“We don’t know that,” Sanghyuk said for the umpteenth time. “Anyway, you can’t give up now, or you’ll never forgive yourself.”
“It’s been eight months already. He’s probably lying in a ditch somewhere shot full of holes.”
“Stop that! I don’t think your therapist would approve of that negative thinking.”
A sharp rap caught their attention.
“Taeyang?”
The man stood stiffly in the doorway. “Tell me why you’re looking for Baek Zuho,” he demanded.
“I uh…” Chanhee’s stomach flipped nervously, “I’m just worried about Jaeyoon. You know I owe him my life.”
Taeyang narrowed his eyes and stared piercingly at him. “You can stop looking,” he said after a minute, “We’ve already found him.” He turned on his heels and strode down the hall.
It took a moment for the words to process.
“Wait!” Chanhee shouted, nearly stumbling over his feet in his hurry to catch up, “Please, don’t! It won’t do anyone any good to restart the feud. Think of how destructive it would be to both of you, not to mention the city and all the innocents who would be caught up in it.”
Taeyang spun around to face him. “Oh,” his voice carried an edge of surprise as he took in Chanhee’s worried expression, “I see.”
Taeyang sighed. “I can’t believe I’m considering this,” he muttered.
He pulled a notepad out of his pocket, jotted something down, ripped out the sheet and handed it to Chanhee.
Chanhee stared at the slip of paper in shock. By the time he looked back up, Taeyang had disappeared.
“Oh yes, he’s here,” the resort manager confirmed after a quick look at the picture Chanhee showed him, “In fact, he was over by the bar just a minute ago. You can probably catch up with him down on the beach.”
Chanhee thanked him and hurried in the direction he’d been pointed. The ocean sparkled under the brightness of the full moon. This tiny island and its out-of-the-way resort were perfect for a fugitive hiding from the law, he mused. He scanned the vista and caught sight of his target.
Baek Juho was walking barefoot in the sand, pants rolled up, carrying two drinks in his hands.
A figure rose up to meet him, and they shared a kiss under the palm tree.
Oh, Chanhee’s heart skipped a beat.
Jaeyoon’s eyes sparkled, and his dimpled smile shone brightly as Juho held him with a look of unadulterated adoration.
They were together, and they would never let anything tear them apart again.