Chapter 12

News of Gyusang’s escape sent the three of them racing to the hospital. From the nurse who had helped admit him, they received both his belongings and the story.

“He even left his clothes? Ran off still in patient garb?”

The nurse gave only an awkward smile in reply. Suspicion was unavoidable. All three from the Unit sensed Gyusang was tangled in something serious.

“There’s more to this. Is someone after him? Loan sharks coming back?”

Uwan clicked his tongue, uncharacteristically grim.

“That’s not it. A hospital’s safer—too many eyes watching. No, this is pure psychological pressure. Enough that he bolted in a hospital gown.”

“Wait. Look here.”

Jinyoung had been going through his belongings and now held up a phone.

“He even left his cell.”

“Are you sure it’s his?”

“Yes. Look.”

She woke the screen, revealing the wallpaper: Gyusang smiling brightly with a young girl in his arms—likely his daughter.

“Wait, wait!”

Beomjin snatched the phone and stared hard. He didn’t care about the cheerful faces. What he saw were the hair ties in the girl’s braids—bright orange carrots, leaves and all, scuffed and scratched in the exact same way as the one at the crime scene.

“…Found it.”

“Found what?”

Uwan leaned in, clueless. Beomjin handed him the phone, but to Uwan it was like a hidden-picture puzzle.

“Don’t keep it to yourself. Explain.”

“The hair ties.”

“What about them?”

“…Oh.”

This time Jinyoung snatched the phone from Uwan, comparing it with the photo she’d taken of the evidence. Her gasp filled the room.

“It’s the same! Exactly the same hair tie!”

“Really? Where, where?!”

Uwan fussed, but Beomjin and Jinyoung locked eyes. From the photo alone, Gyusang wasn’t just an unrelated bystander. If anything…

“What the hell? He’s the suspect? This guy’s actually Kim Sanghyun? He’s the one who slashed, stabbed, and cut up all those people?”

“We can’t be certain yet.”

Her words were careful, but Beomjin felt the same turmoil.

Kim Sanghyun? Choi Gyusang? Where had the lie begun? Had Chu Nayoung the Lynx deceived them, or had she been deceived too?

He cursed himself for never suspecting Gyusang even once.

“So we caught him… and let him go?”

Uwan’s face ballooned like an angry pufferfish. His trembling finger almost made Beomjin pity him.

“The odds are high.”

Even in this mess, Jinyoung kept her composure.

“Then what are we doing standing here? Whoever he is—Gyusang, Sanghyun—we need to find him now!”

Without hesitation, Uwan sprinted down the hospital stairs.

“Does he even know the address?”

Beomjin asked flatly, but both Jinyoung and the nurse who’d given them the phone shook their heads. The nurse quietly handed over the papers she’d been holding like an envelope of cash.

“…You’ll need these, right?”

“Yes. Thank you. And sorry for all the commotion.”

Jinyoung offered a polite bow, and Beomjin followed with a nod before they left the hospital together.

The closer they drew to Gyusang’s apartment, the heavier the car felt. Uwan’s sighs filled the silence. He muttered regret after regret, blaming himself.

“How could I not suspect him? After all that beating he took—thought no way he was the killer. Guess I’m just getting old. To catch him and then lose him like this… damn.”

Neither Beomjin nor Jinyoung blamed him, but Uwan took everything onto his own shoulders. Jinyoung, quiet until then, finally spoke.

“Senior, please stop. It wasn’t your fault. Even I didn’t think of him as a suspect then.”

“Still. It’s a mistake that stings too much.”

Her attempt calmed him a little, but the gloom wouldn’t vanish.

“You told me yourself. Be suspicious to the end, until the very last. We don’t know everything yet. Regret later if you must—right now it’s too soon.”

Beomjin’s words made Uwan lift his head at last. He rolled his eyes, thinking hard, then asked:

“…I said that? Really?”

“You did. Not now, but… you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Did I say it or not? Talk sense, kid.”

“It’s hard to explain, but… you did.”

Beomjin smiled quietly to himself, enjoying the private irony.

Uwan cleared his throat, trying to ground the conversation.

“Let me sort this out. The suspects are the couple, who have a daughter. The daughter’s sick, and that’s why they killed four people. And the husband is the guy I personally carried to the hospital. That about right?”

“For now, yes.”

Jinyoung’s blunt answer was echoed by Beomjin’s twitching lips.

They arrived at the address listed in the hospital files.

“It should be around here. That’s Building 102—so 105 should be that way.”

Jinyoung steered, eyes sharp.

The Unit’s sedan rolled into the shabby apartment complex where Gyusang lived. The old buildings showed their age, stained and worn. At midday, the lot was quiet, filled only with the chatter of birds.

“There. That one.”

Beomjin pressed his face to the car window and shouted. Gyusang was staggering out of the apartment entrance, arms full of a battered box. His twisted expression told all there was to know about his condition. Clothes poked out the top of the box, flapping with every limping step.

He walked a short distance, set the box down to rest, then picked it back up again. Over and over, until he left the lot and disappeared down the side street.

“It’ll be faster to go on foot. I’ll take the lead.”

Before the car even stopped, Beomjin threw the door open and sprinted out. Jinyoung’s voice called something after him, but he could only think of catching up.

He followed the same path Gyusang had taken. Past the parking lot, into a neatly kept path lined with shrubs. There, in the distance, was Gyusang’s back. Beomjin stalked him quietly, keeping his steps steady but unsuspicious.

The insects buzzing in the bushes, the birds calling overhead, even the smells drifting on the wind—all of it sharpened his senses. The sweat, the dry mouth stench—Gyusang’s scent was thick with desperation.

The path opened back into a wide lot. To the right stood a small playground. A one-ton truck sat nearby, and children’s laughter rang out. Gyusang quickened his pace. Beomjin ducked behind a building.

Then he saw her.

“Uncle!!”

The girl who dashed toward Gyusang with an innocent smile was the same child from the phone wallpaper. On the bench beside her sat a weary woman with a faint, tired smile. He didn’t need to guess. It was Choi Huiseon.

Beomjin hesitated for just a heartbeat. Maybe it was the happy child, maybe it was the exhausted mother. But he couldn’t stay still. Steeling himself, he approached.

“Yujeong, I told you it’s dangerous to be outside. We have to leave right away—and you’re barefoot.”

“Mom said it’s okay for a little while. Did you bring everything, Uncle?”

“Yes. Now let’s go far away together.”

Gyusang patted her head, smiling like sunlight itself. He scanned her face, her neck, her hands, her legs.

“Are you feeling okay? Not hurting today?”

“It doesn’t hurt as much! Hehe.”

“Good. Stay that way. Don’t ever get sick again. Now go play a little more—I need to talk with your mom. Come back when I call, alright?”

“Okay! Just a little longer!”

She ran off laughing. Gyusang turned to Huiseon, who was slumped against the bench like a dying bird.

“I told you I’d be back soon. You couldn’t wait even that long?”

“Try staying inside that place all day. It’s like a prison. I couldn’t breathe. I don’t even know if I’m a delivery box or a person anymore. I could endure it—but Yujeong can’t.”

“You should endure it anyway. Just a little longer.”

“I know! Don’t you think I know?!”

Her voice rose, but even anger couldn’t hide her weakness. She gasped, chest heaving with every breath. Then her eyes flicked to the side—at Beomjin, walking toward them.

She jolted upright with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Gyusang asked.

Her shaking pupils told him enough. He turned. Beomjin was approaching calmly, but the look in his eyes made Gyusang’s knees buckle. He knew instantly—this was someone he couldn’t escape.

“Special Beast Investigation Unit. Choi Huiseon, Choi Gyusang? We need to talk.”

Gyusang tried to stay steady.

“Sorry, who exactly are you? Police?”

“Not the police. Similar. If you’re Choi Huiseon, you already know what I mean.”

Huiseon trembled. Her shoulders sagged like broken wings, her lips quivering in the cold. No more explanation was needed. Gyusang braced himself and demanded:

“What business do you have with us? We have nothing to say.”

“Mr. Choi Gyusang, how’s your body? We didn’t get to greet properly at Haetsal Capital. You skipped treatment, bolted from the hospital, even left your phone behind. I came to return it.”

He offered the phone. Gyusang bit his lip.

“And Mrs. Choi Huiseon—there’s much you need to answer for. Why you did it. Your reasons.”

One step closer, and both of them faltered. Gyusang swallowed over and over, hands twitching but never moving.

“…Noona?”

Huiseon stared blankly at the ground. Beomjin waited. Then he handed the phone back to Gyusang and stood before her bench.

“Mind if I sit?”

Her unfocused eyes followed his face. Her lips were pale as if breathing frost.

“Yes.”

He sat a little apart.

“Mrs. Choi. You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“…I do.”

“Then let’s start with the question that matters most. Until now, I assumed Mr. Gyusang was your husband. But I was wrong. You went to the shaman with Kim Sanghyun. Took loans with him. So where is your husband now?”

Her eyes flicked to Gyusang. His to hers. She sighed, he hesitated. Then Beomjin’s phone buzzed.

A message from Uwan:

[The civilian victim’s identity confirmed. Name: Kim Sanghyun. Husband of Choi Huiseon.]