Chapter Text
“Keep your eyes on the backdoor.” Youngjae spoke into his earpiece. Junghwan made a quiet sound of acknowledgement in return; talking wasn’t really the smartest thing to do while staking out.
The old woman at the tteokbokki stall where Youngjae was standing— acting like he’s a regular costumer enjoying a late-night snack— looked at him suspiciously. It took him a moment to understand why, before he quickly apologized, as he had been blocking her stall for a few minutes without buying anything.
“I’ll take a big portion of fish cakes, please.” The woman gave him a big smile and got to preparing his order right away.
Youngjae took his food and headed to the stairs looking down on the street where their target was— or maybe wasn’t. There was always a little uncertainty to a stake-out, and it wasn’t uncommon for detectives to completely miscalculate a case and be going after the wrong clues after all.
Yet Choi Youngjae, the team leader of Violent Crime Unit 1 , was more than willing to take the risk if it meant even a slim chance of catching a wanted criminal on the run. And he had long gotten used to how boring and exhausting loitering around random stairs, cars and benches could get.
He leaned on the railing, finally taking the first bite of his snack, also his lunch and dinner. It was nice, not only fulfilling one of his primary biological needs as a human being, but also enjoying his favorite street food stall ever, that just happened to be near such an unfortunate location.
“Hyung, I hear commotion near the main entrance.” Of course, just as he was finishing his first skewer, came the voice of Kyungmin, who was stationed near the main crossroad that drivers take when leaving the club.
Youngjae couldn’t help but give a devastated look to his food, before quickly putting the container in a well-hidden spot between some bushes and covering it with a napkin— maybe he’ll find it untouched after he investigates the noise and finds nothing, as always.
He hurriedly descended the stairs, leading him directly to the main door of the exclusive nightclub. He stepped on the other side of the street carefully, making sure not to catch anybody’s attention, well aware that he looked extremely out of place between the young and rich attendants of such establishments.
As far as he could observe from his position, he noticed nothing— just a bunch of college aged kids drinking, smoking and hanging around. Some were alone, looking a little miserable, while most of them stood in groups, talking and laughing loud enough for him to understand.
Just then, he heard it. A loud scream, panting and footsteps that echoed through the quiet night. Youngjae’s eyes snapped to the source of the voice, just in time to witness two men running— more like a man getting chased.
Instinctively, Youngjae moved, making his way to the alley where he saw the two strangers disappear. Once he was out of the club's sight, he picked up the pace, running in the trail of what he suspected to be a drunken fight. It was the most likely thing to be going down at such a late hour, especially near a club of that sort.
As a police officer, it was his duty to intervene when active danger arose, instead of chasing after cryptic clues and staking out aimlessly. And while he desperately wanted to catch the culprit red-handed, he had also just gained a new culprit to catch.
Well, Junghwan and Kyungmin would have to compensate for his absence at the entrance by watching the other two passages even more carefully.
—
Dohoon prided himself on being able to have fun completely on his own, without any outside influences clouding his mind and vision. Sober— he stayed sober, no matter whom he was with or what he was doing.
And seeing the state of his friend, hiding away in his car and sneaking small bags of lord-knows-what, he felt a deep sense of disappointment.
It wasn't his place to argue on what people should or shouldn't consume— yet this wasn't just anyone. He had watched Park Jaeseok grow up and become this stranger with his very own eyes. Dohoon snatched the few sachets through the car window and threw them into a nearby bush.
"Come on man, I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you greet me?" Jaeseok pushed the car door open, making Dohoon stumble as he stepped away and watched his friend hurry out of the car like a madman. But before he could lunge into the bushes to search for what he had taken away from him, Dohoon pulled Jaeseok by the arm and threw him into the backseat.
"Hyung, let's get you home— god, you stink." Dohoon leaned forward and fastened the seatbelt around Jaeseok's shivering body. The other kept murmuring about stuff that Dohoon couldn't fully make out, not that it really mattered to him what the other had to say. He slammed the door shut and made his way to the driver's seat. Just as he sat down, the backseat slammed open once again, and Park Jaeseok ran out of the car at full speed.
He was about to jump into the bushes, when he bumped into a man walking down the street. Dohoon groaned, slamming his head into the steering wheel in pure frustration— other people shouldn't be seeing his friend in this miserable state, all over the place and completely out of it. The last thing he wanted was for somebody to report him. Because in the end it would be Dohoon dealing with Jaeseok's mess, just like he was right now.
It all happened so fast.
One moment, Dohoon looked away, trying to find the courage— more like patience— to get out of the car, man up and apologize to the poor citizen Jaeseok was harassing— pick up after him one more time. Then came a loud scream, then the loud footsteps of somebody running away.
Dohoon's head snapped to where Park Jaeseok stood, his silhouette now fallen to the ground. He hopped out of the driver's seat and hurried to his friend— on his knees clutching his hand, which was dripping, the faint outline of a slice wound visible through the blood.
"Hyung!" He grabbed his shoulder, shaking him to make sure he was still awake. Jaeseok opened his eyes groggily, his body trembled in Dohoon's arms, the drugs making the cut in his hand feel more fatal than it should.
Dohoon quickly got his act together, slinging his friend on his back and dragging him to the backseat, where he got in without any protest this time around, mostly because he was bleeding and barely conscious. He grabbed whatever he found in the car— a silk scarf he recently bought from the department store, and wrapped it around Jaeseok's injured hand. This would have to suffice until Jaeseok regained consciousness to go to the hospital.
But before he passed out, Dohoon looked into the eyes of whatever was still left of his friend, mostly a reckless stranger who put himself in dangerous situations for no reason at all, and asked sternly.
"In which direction did he go?"
Yet he was running after the person who attacked him. Because even if it was only one percent of him he still recognized— it was still Park Jaeseok, his friend, and he wouldn't allow anybody to hurt him.
Dohoon set off, sprinting through the quiet streets of Seoul city, the few streetlights and many stars in the sky illuminating his pathway. He knew he would need his sprint record of 100m in 12 seconds some day.
He spotted him a few moments later, a small man bundled up in black, panting as he fled the crime scene.
He must've noticed Dohoon too, as he quickly started running again, not looking back at the man running after him. But Dohoon was faster and caught up to him before he knew it. He jumped on the man and caught him in a headlock, announcing loud and clear— there's no way to run, asshole.
Dohoon threw the gasping man into an alleyway to their right, a small closed space, perfect to beat the shit out of a piece of trash who dared hurt his friend.
"Son of a bitch!" He snarled as he lifted the guy's body with ease and slammed him into the wall. He stepped closer, quickly throwing a punch to his jaw, disrupting his first attempt to leave. Which was the first of many.
But Dohoon was relentless— he wouldn't give up until the man was barely hanging onto life. And so he kept throwing punches, until the man spluttered blood everywhere— until he passed out from Dohoon's sheer strength.
Dohoon trembled in anger as he stood in front of the culprit he was able to take down completely on his own, despite the latter carrying a weapon on him— the same one he used to injure his friend's hand.
He turned his gaze away from the man lying on the ground, finally noticing that he had actually led them to the middle of nowhere, it would be a long walk from here to the car, where his injured friend was—
In an instant, he was tackled to the floor.
The man jumped on him like a maniac, a knife in his hand that almost grazed Dohoon's beautiful honey skin. Dohoon held onto the man's wrists with his bare grip, keeping the knife mere centimeters away from touching him, looking terrified into the eyes of the person actively trying to kill him.
Mustering up his strength, he managed to kick the body of off him, yet the knife remained in the criminal's hold.
He lunged forward again, where Dohoon quickly got up on his feet. In one rapid movement, Dohoon twisted the man's arm, knocking the knife down and body-slamming him into the wall with full force.
He heaved, the realization dawning upon him that he would've definitely been gone by now, had he not reacted so fast. The man resisted his firm hold, somehow managing to wiggle out, as he swung a rock Dohoon's way— wherever the fuck that came from.
Dohoon dodged the attack to the side, before throwing one final punch to his opponent's face, knocking him out— for real this time.
He sighed in exhaustion, taking notice of the rock that somehow ended up in his hands. He raised his arm playfully, feigning a full swing of the rock at the man passed-out on the hard concrete— something he would definitely do if he felt like becoming a murderer at 31.
All of a sudden, Dohoon was struck in the abdomen from the side, hurling him into the fence to his left. His whole body slammed into the thin metal forcefully. He dropped to the ground, groaning in pain and clutching his sides, when he heard a soft voice speaking behind him.
"Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
"What the hell." Dohoon grumbled, the tall male checking on the man he had rendered unconscious and on the ground now fully in his vision. He stumbled to get up, his stomach hurting immensely. "What are you? Are you with that asshole?"
He took a step forward, and before he could even think of doing anything, he felt a sharp pain in his face that was met with an extremely unfriendly fist. The new guy twisted his arm and knocked him to his knees in one swift motion, and Dohoon could hear the sound of metal clinking. Handcuffs.
"You are under arrest for special assault. You have the right to remain—"
"Fuck."
—
Dohoon winced, still not used to the sharp pain coming from his nose. His broken nose. His nose, which was broken by a police officer. The police officer who was sitting across from him and fighting back a yawn.
It kind of felt more insulting to him— more than having been arrested because of a total misunderstanding, or the fact his nose was literally broken— that the detective looked bored out of his life while preparing to interrogate him— him! The youngest son of Hansu Group, Kim Dohoon himself.
Was he not enough of a criminal to at least look fully awake while talking to? Did it ruin the fun for such a renowned and respectable detective to have arrested someone on false accusations and to have to let him walk free?
Dohoon rolled his eyes, then slammed his fist on the table— yet not even that fazed Choi Youngjae, the detective interrogating him.
"You're going to regret this!" Dohoon spat, unable to help the hint of arrogance in his words. "Do you even know who I am?"
Youngjae leaned back in his chair and picked up the case folder, opening it to the first page.
"Name, Kim Dohoon. Date of birth, 30.01.1994. Resident registration number, 940130-1041582." He sighed, closing the folder and putting it down. Youngjae stayed silent for a moment, looking into Dohoon's eyes intently. Then he continued. "Forget about that. I definitely know who you are, so why don't you answer my question and tell me what you were doing earlier."
"You clearly don't know who I am, though!" Dohoon was getting heated, and Youngjae just was not in the mood to deal with any of this. He had a big case to follow up on, yet this piece of work had not only interrupted their stake-out, but now there he was, not even owning up to his wrongdoing.
"I am the youngest son of Hansu Group, Kim Dohoon, director of Hansu Insurance." Dohoon was furious as he revealed what he deemed to be crucial information to this— simply clueless police officer. "My father is Kim Seungyeop, chairman of Hansu Group!"
All of a sudden, a loud gasp left Youngjae, as he slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened in shock.
"For real?" Youngjae reached over for Dohoon's right hand, shaking it firmly as he stared at the latter in disbelief— this was more like it, thought Dohoon. This was how people usually reacted when they found out they were speaking to none other than the second son of Hansu Group, one of the richest conglomerates in all of South Korea.
"Why didn't you tell me, sir?" Youngjae stood up from his chair out of nowhere— he walked up to the door and opened it, pointing both hands in the direction of the exit and bowing politely. "You're free to go home, sir."
Kim Dohoon couldn't help but grin as he dusted off his clothes and stood up slowly. These ignorant police officers never learn.
When he finally looked up, Choi Youngjae was planted in front of him again. His expression had fallen completely, somehow managing to look even more bored and lifeless than before. He reached a hand forward, pushing Kim Dohoon into his seat.
"Sit down." Youngjae ordered harshly, before he returned to his chair, leaning back comfortably. "Let's not make this harder than it should be for any of us."
He didn't miss how Kim Dohoon blinked in confusion at his sudden bait and switch, mouth wide open and face pale at the sheer audacity.
“On Monday the 18th September, between 10:30 and 11 pm, you, Kim Dohoon, 31 years old, were caught by detective Choi Youngjae in an alleyway at Pildong-ro 8-gil, as you assaulted an unknown male victim to the point of losing consciousness and even drew a weapon against him, although he had already passed out— impressive.”
"Not true!" Dohoon gritted his teeth. "He had a knife, I was protecting myself."
"No knife was found at the scene." Youngjae flipped through the case file one last time, making sure he didn't miss any evidence. Then he redirected his lazy eyes to the man across from him and continued. "Also, don't think I'm the type to let rich bastards like you walk free just because you have money and power."
A heartbeat passed in silence and Youngjae saw it as his chance to provoke more information out of his suspect.
"I've dealt with spoiled kids like you before. You go clubbing, you drink a lot and what— did you also do some drugs?"
"I don't do drugs!" Interrupted Dohoon.
"We'll see the test results."
"It was self-defense. He had a knife and even hurt my friend!" He yelled, before clumsily grabbing his phone and typing in a number, quickly handing it to the detective. "Here, you can call him to make sure."
Youngjae rolled his eyes and reluctantly took the phone, pressing the call button.
"Hello, this is detective Choi Youngjae from Seoul Jungbu police station. Your friend, Kim Dohoon, was arrested on charges of special assault. He says the victim had a knife and even stabbed you— is that true?"
For the first time in the 2 hours that Kim Dohoon has known detective Choi Youngjae, he saw a faint smirk form on his face as he looked right into Dohoon's eyes.
"Alright, thank you for your cooperation." Park Jaeseok, that asshole.
"Wait—"
"Call someone who can actually help you." Youngjae slid his phone back to him, that stupid smirk of his making Dohoon burn in fury. He understood why he had to keep a poker face for the interrogation— god, he wanted to punch him! "A lawyer or something."
"I don't need a lawyer— I didn't do anything wrong!"
"We'll see about that." With that, Youngjae left. He just left!
Dohoon scoffed in annoyance, but he didn't have time to get worked up over the detective, as a new officer came in right after. Yet this one didn't even bother speaking. He walked up to him and grabbed his wrists firmly, before aggressively handcuffing him and dragging him by the shoulder to— to the holding cells?
Dohoon couldn't believe his eyes or the audacity of that asshole detective who had surely ordered this.
"Shoes." Said the other officer sternly. Dohoon took off his shoes and put them in the basket that was laid out in front of him.
"Phone." He groaned, handing over his phone as well.
"Socks."
"Even my socks?" He questioned, but was only met with the same stoic gaze from the police officer. He stumbled as he took off his socks and put them in the basket, huffing at the inconvenience.
The officer stepped forward to lead him behind the metal, but Dohoon quickly freed himself from his hold, putting some distance between them.
"Hey, listen, I'm kinda thirsty." Dohoon contemplated for a moment, to which the policeman only tilted his head in confusion, well, mostly exhaustion. Then, he ushered a hand at him. "Get me an Asyatchu, and wait—" Dohoon glanced at the colorful troop scattered all over the room behind him, and added. "And get them iced americanos. It's on me."
Dohoon flashed a charming smile, which got him absolutely nowhere.
The metal door slammed in his face and the officer turned his back on him and sat at his desk, ignoring all of his pleas to at least be put in an empty cell. He couldn't believe any of this!
Choi Youngjae should look forward to a ruthless lawsuit that would be coming his way as soon as Dohoon walked free from this prison— literally!
—
Reporters and cameras crowded the small hall where the press conference was set to take place. They talked over each other, anticipation and curiosity clouding the air, and everybody was awaiting the answer to their collective question.
Why had the chairman suddenly called for a press conference?
Somewhere else in the building, the staff helping the chairman get ready had long been dismissed, leaving him alone with his wife and eldest son. The family sat in silence, the son occasionally looking up at his father with a hesitant and concerned look in his eyes. Tension hung in the room, a result of a certain thing that was missing on such an important day. They had been dancing around it for hours, none of them daring to acknowledge it.
There were 20 minutes left until the chairman had to take the podium on the stage and the family had already ran out of pleasantries, compliments and words of encouragement to distract from the dire fact that dawned on them sometime while getting ready.
Then, the chairman suddenly spoke.
"He's not showing up, is he?"
The son's eyes snapped wide open in shock, a perfectly manufactured reaction— he knew damn well that this question would come at some point.
"Father…"
"Assign him to the overseas branch and send him off quietly." He sighed, looking one last time into his reflection in the mirror, before standing up and marching over to his wife, where she stood with his coat in hand.
The son didn't have it in him to interrupt, as he watched his father's movement from his seat. Maybe, things had escalated truly beyond his reach, and there was no way to save it anymore— his father has already washed his hands from all of this mess.
His mother helped the chairman get into his outerwear, buttoning his blazer carefully and holding her husband gently by the shoulder.
"You look great, honey."
The chairman shrugged her off, before turning to look back at his son.
"I have been working towards this moment my entire life. I am putting everything on the line and I know I can win. He's a failure. I can't have a failure like him going around and ruining everything during such a crucial moment."
The door to the conference hall opened at 12 p.m. sharp, cameras flashing and reporters rushing to capture the scene, as the chairman walked in, making his way to the podium, his head held high in pride.
"I have an important announcement to make." He spoke into the mic on stage. He looked down at the sea of journalists, cameras and eyes anticipating his next move. He allowed himself a deep breath in and out.
As if on cue, a blue banner uncovered itself on top of the stage, and the chairman looked right at his audience and spoke.
"I, Kim Seungyeop, hereby announce my candidacy for the mayor of Seoul, which I believe is the right thing to do!"
The room irrupted into cheers and applause, the countless lenses recording the sheer determination on the chairman's face. Soon after, the chaos calmed down and the air transitioned into a calmer one, as the press conference carried on.
Through the crowd of reporters, a man dressed in casual clothes, looking clearly out of place, pushed through to the front. During a moment of silence, before any journalists could proceed with asking the next question that the chairman would respond to, the man chimed in.
"Did you know your youngest son is currently detained in Jungbu Police Station? I heard the victim is still unconscious."
—
The metal of the keys rustled in Junghwan's grip. He unlocked the cell and put a foot forward, leaning against the bars forming the doorframe.
"Hey, Kim Dohoon!" He yelled from where he stood, yet Dohoon only stirred in his sleep, turning over to his other side and throwing an arm over a stranger laying next to him.
"Kim Dohoon!" Junghwan shouted louder, his voice echoing through the other empty cells and making other detainees flinch awake. Not Dohoon though, who was still visibly dreaming, a content smile forming on his face. The detective rolled his eyes, staying silent for a moment to recollect himself— it was too early to lose his temper over a lowlife like Kim Dohoon.
"For fuck's sake— Kim Dohoon!"
Dohoon inched closer to the person laying to his side, now fully attempting to cuddle the stranger in his sleep. But at feeling the warmth of another body under his touch, his eyes suddenly snapped open.
"Ah!" He let out a deafening high-pitched scream, quickly scrambling away from the man's hold. "What the—"
He placed a hand over his heaving chest dramatically, before turning to look at Junghwan, who looked unimpressed at best, pissed at worst.
"What— am I free to go?" His eyes widened expectantly as he looked up at the detective, who in return only sighed and halfheartedly ushered for him to follow him. Dohoon stood up, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to save face and look a little less disheveled when he leaves the station. But then the adrenaline from his eventful wakening wore off and he felt a sharp sting in his nose— right, his nose was broken. Damn Choi Youngjae.
Dohoon hurried behind Junghwan, who didn't even wait for him to put on his shoes properly— unprofessional, but not that Dohoon really cared. He only cared about getting released from that shithole as soon as possible.
"So, who are you?" Junghwan slowed in his tracks at the sudden question, while Dohoon quickly caught up, now walking next to him. Junghwan sighed.
"You already met my team leader." Right— Dohoon met Choi Youngjae already— wait, did he say team leader?
"That boy is your team leader?" Dohoon couldn't help how his voice did a little jump at the end, because seriously— how was Choi Youngjae the team leader, when he looked barely out of university.
Junghwan stopped in his tracks, making Dohoon stumble and bump into him clumsily. He looked over his shoulder, flashing him a puzzled look, then shook his head with a sigh, murmuring something under his breath— Dohoon could only make out the word hopeless.
They soon reached the entrance of another interrogation room. Junghwan swiftly pushed the door open one-handedly, his other hand firmly grabbing Dohoon's arm and throwing him into the room. Dohoon scowled at the abrasive gesture, looking back at Junghwan with a look that said 'what the hell, man?'.
However, he quickly noticed the ominous silence that ruled over the room he had entered, making his heart drop to his stomach. He looked over at Junghwan's stoic expression one last time— the latter stepping back and leaving the room.
Then, Dohoon slowly turned around.
Sitting at the table in the middle of the interrogation room was Kim Seungyeop, his father.
Color drained from Dohoon's face as he felt a shiver creep through his body and his eyes widened in utter Confusion. He took a step closer to where his father sat, accompanied by his assistant. Next to him stood Dohoon's own right-hand man, who looked concerned and slightly alarmed by Dohoon's state.
Kim Dohoon locked eyes with his father and cleared his throat— maybe he could improvise a speech about his heroic deeds or somehow exaggerate the actions of the detective who caught him so much, he could only be regarded as the clear victim— anything to justify whatever the fuck his current situation was.
Yet Kim Seungyeop merely let out a heavy and disappointed sigh, before standing up, wide shoulders and upright posture only intimidating his son more. He slowly walked over to where Dohoon was standing, every step rang in Dohoon's ears like a countdown until doom struck. His father reached a hand to his chin— his fingers dug and burned into his skin as he raised his head to face him directly.
However, he didn't say anything. He simply stared deep into his son's eyes, who couldn't help but shrink under his piercing gaze. That's when Dohoon knew, he had fucked up even worse than he expected.
The betrayal, shame and anger in his father's eyes told him more than words ever could— what have you done, Kim Dohoon?
"Where's your limit?" Came a cold voice that masked the fury and spiraling of Kim Seungyeop beneath it.
Yet Dohoon was unaffected, he didn't let himself be torn down by this man's disappointment or impossible standards for his son— or at least, that's the way he chose to act in that moment.
He smirked, his smile widening at the sight of shock evident in his father's expression.
"I don't know. I haven't hit rock-bottom yet."
His father looked at him in disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that his youngest dared to talk to him like that. He tightened his hold on Dohoon's face, still looking deep into his eyes, as if he were searching for something— fear, or perhaps remorse.
Kim Seungyeop let go of Dohoon, shoving him away roughly. He didn't say a single word further, stepping out of the room, his assistant right behind him— Dohoon's secreatary gently patted him on the shoulder and followed as well, leaving him all alone.
The ground looked even gloomier beneath his feet, and his eyes burned the longer he kept staring at it. He didn't even notice how much time had passed with him standing there all alone.
All of a sudden, Dohoon felt a big hand on his shoulder. He flinched and looked back to see none other than Kim Mingyu standing there, looking at him with obvious pity in his gaze.
"Don't worry," His brother spoke. "I spoke to the superintendent and I have a plan."
Dohoon couldn't help the way his face lit up at his brother's words. He always had his back, picking up after him and saving his ass in front of their father—
"But… You can't leave the police station just yet."