Chapter 16
To detain a suspect after arrest, a request for an arrest warrant must be filed with the court within 48 hours of the arrest.
A pre-trial detention hearing was held.
An arrest warrant was requested for Kim Gi-jin on charges of murder and violation of the Narcotics Control Act.
I argued that Kim Gi-jin had a stable residence, no risk of flight, and since the police had already secured all evidence at the scene, there was no risk of evidence destruction—therefore, the legal grounds for detention were not met.
While waiting for the result, the red eyes beside me leaned in and asked quietly:
—What do you think the judge will do?
“They’ll issue the warrant.”
—Why?
“Because the crime is too serious.”
As expected, the warrant was issued.
The moment it was issued, reporters stationed at the police station began publishing articles after receiving the tip.
“Man in his 30s arrested for murdering mistress while under influence of drugs”
“Drug-fueled party ends in brutal murder of mistress… Ansan shaken”
“Angry citizens demand identity disclosure of man in his 30s who murdered mistress while on drugs”
Even though no indictment had been filed yet and the suspect denied the murder charges, the articles were already treating him as guilty.
With him detained and public opinion turning sharply negative, the trial was now at a disadvantage.
The second time I visited Kim Gi-jin was right before he was transferred to prison.
In Ansan, pre-trial detainees are transferred to Hwaseong Prison.
When Kim Gi-jin heard he was being sent to a prison instead of a detention center, he became even more anxious.
“Hyun-jae… I’m scared. The guys I was with there said they’re gangsters. Gangsters. Does that kind of thing still exist?”
From the detention cell onward, it seemed he had already been terrified by other inmates.
A rich young heir who had never once been treated harshly in his life was showing fear for the first time.
“Hyun-jae… how long do I have to stay there?”
“Until the court finds you not guilty.”
“Hyun-jae…”
He grabbed my hand tightly.
His eyes welled up, his chin trembling uncontrollably.
“You’ll get me out, right?”
“I’ll do my best. Stay strong.”
“I’ll only trust you.”
I held his hand firmly.
He kept looking back repeatedly as he was taken away in the transport van.
—At first I thought he was just an annoying rich kid getting what he deserved… but now I almost feel sorry for him. Do you think he can survive prison?
“Right now, he has no choice but to endure.”
—But isn’t his grandmother insanely rich? Doesn’t she know a lot of powerful people? Can’t she do something?
It didn’t seem like Mrs. Lee Hwa-young was using political connections or former prosecutors.
It felt less like she couldn’t act and more like she was waiting for something.
Her bowing deeply to me earlier also felt strange—like there was some connection between me and all this.
Then a voice suddenly cut through my thoughts.
“Kim Gi-jin, you say?”
I instinctively turned around.
A man with a face as rough as the gangsters who had just been taken away was speaking on the phone.
Late 30s. Short crew cut. Solid build. Sneakers.
Anyone could tell at a glance—he was a violent crime detective.
I quickly scanned his aura.
A green glow tinged with red—he was highly competent at his job.
“He’s been transferred to prison just now. Yes. Understood.”
He ended the call and stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket.
“Brr… it’s cold.”
Rubbing his hands together, he walked to the coffee vending machine.
He seemed short on coins, clicking his tongue in frustration.
I quickly approached and offered coins.
“Hello. Need some change?”
He glanced at me, then smiled slightly.
“Thanks.”
After he got his coffee, I also bought one.
“Are you in charge of Kim Gi-jin’s case?”
He stared at me closely—clearly cautious.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Kim Gi-jin’s defense attorney.”
“Oh! So you’re that meticulous lawyer! I heard about you from Detective Jo.”
“He didn’t say anything bad about me, did he?”
“Haha, no—he said you’re good at your job.”
“I see. May I ask your name?”
“Jung Woo-yeol.”
We quietly sipped our coffee.
He spoke first.
“So you’re claiming he’s innocent… but the evidence is pretty clear. How do you plan to win this?”
He was testing me.
I had heard from Attorney Park Hyun that detectives often probe like this to slip out information.
“It’s only circumstantial evidence.”
“Circumstantial? That’s solid evidence, no question about it.”
He chuckled.
—He didn’t even see the murder, yet he’s calling it solid evidence… tsk.
The red eyes beside me pouted.
Something’s off.
—What do you mean?
He’s very competent. If he’s this confident, there must be more evidence.
I asked him directly.
“What evidence are you referring to?”
“Well…”
He seemed about to answer, then stopped himself.
He realized he couldn’t disclose details to the opposing lawyer.
“By the way, where is your office?”
“Near the Ansan District Court.”
“Oh, Gojan-dong. Lots of law offices there. I’ll probably see you often.”
“Yes. I think so.”
I wanted to extract more about the evidence, but getting anything out of a homicide detective was not easy.
By the time we finished our coffee, I had gained no useful lead.
The half-empty paper cup felt frustratingly light.
“Oh? Detective Kang? Where are you going?”
Another man, similar in style to Jung Woo-yeol, was walking toward the station exit.
Jung Woo-yeol finished his coffee, crumpled the cup, and tossed it into the trash.
“Thanks for the coffee. Detective Kang, let’s go together.”
He ran after him.
Follow them.
—What?
Follow that detective. Find out what evidence they have.
—You’re telling me to tail a person now?
Not tailing—investigating. Go.
—Seriously…
The red eyes sniffed and followed Jung Woo-yeol.
I threw my empty cup away and returned to the office.
That night, the red eyes returned late.
I was about to eat cup noodles after a shower when—
—Where’s mine?
It stood there smugly, clearly satisfied.
I made another cup and placed it in front of it.
Tell me.
—That detective was insanely busy all day. Didn’t even sit down once. Police here really work hard. They deserve an award.
You said he was competent.
—He went around the officetel neighborhood, asking everyone how Song Seul-gi was, whether Kim Gi-jin visited often…
So he conducted field interviews.
The red eyes slurped the aroma of the noodles.
—He even carries candy. Gives it to old people first, waits until they relax… then slowly starts asking questions. People just open up like magic.
So? Did you learn anything?
—Nothing special. Just that Song Seul-gi came home late often, and Kim Gi-jin visited every couple of days…
That’s it?
—Yeah…
It looked away casually.
Say it properly.
—What do I get if I tell you?
Want me to send you to heaven? Or erase you?
—Hey, no need to be so dramatic.
It finally spoke.
—There was a recording.
What recording?
—Song Seul-gi called 112 before she died.
What did she say?
It imitated her voice perfectly.
—“My boyfriend is trying to kill me. Oppa, why are you doing this? Aaah!”
My head rang like I’d been hit with a hammer.
So Kim Gi-jin really killed her while on drugs?
The red eyes crossed its arms.
—This is solid evidence.
Not necessarily.
—How is it not? It’s recorded. Nobody can overturn this. He’s guilty—he just doesn’t remember it.
Song Seul-gi had two boyfriends.
—Huh?
There was another man besides Kim Gi-jin.
The one Kim Gi-jin had mentioned in his first case file—the man she had tried to break away from.
—Wait… so that guy killed her?
It’s only a possibility. But Kim Gi-jin tried to forcefully separate them, and she went back to him. That’s a motive.
—Wow… you’re a genius.
Shut up and eat your noodles.
—Yes, genius sir.
It happily ate.
Tomorrow morning, I would need to review the original case file from Kim Gi-jin’s first request.
Fortunately, it included Song Seul-gi’s other boyfriend’s name, phone number, and workplace address.
Incheon, Namdong-gu, Guwol-dong Rodeo Street.
I walked down a street filled with restaurants and bars, searching for the “Saengsaeng Sushi Restaurant” Kim Gi-jin had mentioned.
“I heard it from Seul-gi while we were arguing… that bastard works as a chef there…”
The restaurant was a small place on the first floor of an alley just off the main road.
It wasn’t dinner rush yet.
I entered and called out.
“Hello. Does a man named Kang Du-sik work here?”
The owner, a man with a pot-belly, eyed me suspiciously.
“What’s this about?”
“I need to ask him something.”
“Did he not pay his debts again? That bastard. He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
“He got kicked out. Too many people came looking for gambling debts. You’re not here for that too, are you?”
“No, I just need information.”
“He’s gone anyway. Don’t come looking for him.”
“So he really quit?”
“Quit nothing… we kicked him out. Debt collectors were coming more often than customers. How could we run a place like that?”
“Do you know where he might be now?”
“How would I know? Probably at a gambling den.”
The owner answered bluntly.
I thanked him and left.
Neon signs lit up the street.
Every few buildings, there were adult gaming arcades.
Slot-machine gambling dens.
Kang Du-sik was probably somewhere around here.
Finding him would require checking each arcade.
But the real problem was—I had never seen his face.
Only his name and workplace.
I thought of someone who might know him.
Someone who probably did.
