Chapter 24

“Dragon? What do you mean, Dragon?”

Beomjin’s eye twitched as if struck by a nerve.

He remembered clearly—the one who stole the Manual of Music Theory was a snake. That memory couldn’t be wrong. The bastard who slipped away leaving only his bag at Beomjin’s fingertips… that face had haunted him in his dreams, tormenting him over and over.

“It wasn’t a snake?”

His mind blanked, the question escaping without a filter.

“Snake? I never said snake.”

Yewon’s wide eyes made him realize his slip. He had to cover it with something.

“Ah, no… I knew a petty thief who was a snake, the words slipped out. More importantly, you said dragon? Did Dragon come here?”

“Yes. I can’t be completely certain, but I’m sure it was him.”

Her lips pressed together firmly, as if to anchor her words. Then she added the reasoning behind her claim.

“I don’t have proof he stole it, but… it felt like him. You know that feeling? When someone says they’re not interested, but you can feel their eyes on you? You get it, right?”

“Mm, I see.”

His answer was flat, but he understood the kind of suspicion she meant. Still, intuition alone couldn’t pin Dragon as the thief.

“Was Dragon the only one who showed interest in the book?”

“No. There was also a young man in a black hoodie. I remember him because his breath reeked terribly. That one was a snake.”

That’s him!

Beomjin snapped his fingers.

“That! That’s the guy. The snake I know…”

His voice, so full of certainty, faltered as doubt set in. The snake had stolen the book, no doubt about it—he had in the past, too. But back then, there’d been no mention of Dragon. So what did that mean? That Dragon and the Snake showing up at Duru Art had nothing to do with each other?

“And the reason I thought the two might be connected—there was the same stench of heavy oil on both of them.”

A pungent oil smell? That was the Snake’s signature scent.

But Dragon too?

Nothing could be taken for granted. Whether connected or not, only direct evidence could prove it. Damn it. He was caught now, shackled by his own choice. Was this heaven’s punishment for trying to bow out of the case?

“Looks like we’ll have to investigate. My partner’s on her way. We’ll handle the case together.”

“Really?!”

The moment he agreed, Yewon clapped her hands in joy. He forced his lips into a smile, but there was no happiness in him.

Ding, ding, ding.

The wind chime at Duru Art rang out as Jinyoung arrived.

“What’s with your face?”

It was the first thing she said, immediately sensing something was off. She introduced herself politely to Yewon.

“Hello, Seo Jinyoung of the Special Beast Investigation Unit. I heard something was stolen. Could you tell me the details?”

Yewon explained again about Dragon and the Snake who had shown interest in the Manual of Music Theory, along with some information about the book itself—though not all.

Beomjin knew every hidden detail, but he stayed silent. Nothing would change by spilling them now, and his mind was already overloaded, churning only with speculation about Dragon and Snake.

“Alright. Then Agent Baek and I will handle this investigation. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Once outside, Beomjin and Jinyoung naturally headed for her car. Scribbling in her notebook, she glanced at his furrowed brow.

“Loosen up. Did you hear something bad in there? Or did you confess to that woman and get rejected before I showed up?”

“You call that a joke? I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? There’s nothing to think about—we’ve got no leads. No CCTV, no evidence. Just stories about a snake and a dragon. …Is there even really a dragon?”

There is.

He knew from his past. Ironically, even with knowledge, he was starved for information. Like a massive clock halted because of one bent cog.

Jinyoung drew a line across her notes, muttering.

“With this much, we couldn’t even catch a petty thief at an unmanned store. We need more intel.”

He agreed. And he already knew what she was thinking.

“I know someone. Sharp tongue, quick wit, lives for counting money. An informant who buys and sells dirty secrets in the shadows. We’ll need his help.”

Of course. Beomjin wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t protest. The case had to be set straight, step by step.

“Alright then. Let’s go meet this informant.”

In his mind, he pictured a man with hollowed cheeks and blond hair. Jumsoon…? The name was fuzzy.

By the time one o’clock rolled around, Jinyoung and Beomjin arrived at Cheongnyangni.

She parked near the agricultural and fishery market, where little shops clustered together like a hive. Right ahead was a sign from his memories.

[Black Dragon Pavillion]. A Chinese restaurant with a red signboard. Something about the sight settled a corner of his heart. It looked like the most ordinary joint you could find in any neighborhood. A single delivery scooter leaned outside, with a stack of blue plastic buckets beside it.

“Still as shabby as ever.”

Beomjin pushed the door open with the same ease he would a childhood playground.

The smell of food still hung thick in the air—maybe lunch hour had just ended. A few men nursed soju at a corner table, drinking like it was nothing. Judging by the way they freely helped themselves from bottles, they were regulars.

At a table near the entrance, a middle-aged man sat mesmerized by the TV. The owner was nowhere to be seen.

Once seated, Beomjin raised his hand.

“Two jjajangmyeon, please.”

Only then did the middle-aged man set down his remote and shuffle to his feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re at a restaurant. Gotta order something.”

Unfazed, Beomjin spoke like it was obvious. The man eyed him.

“That’s all you’re ordering?”

“And I’d also like to see the owner. Could I meet him?”

“…Wait here.”

He staggered toward the kitchen, where the sound of the burner flaring soon followed.

“We’re here anyway—might as well fill our stomachs.”

“You’ve been here before? How are you acting so natural about it?”

“Come on, you could tell that guy wasn’t the informant just by looking.”

The menu taped to the wall listed not the usual Chinese fare, but dishes made with rabbit, deer, goat—meats tailored for Beast-Blooded customers. The soju drinkers and even the man who went into the kitchen were clearly Beast-Blooded.

“Order up.”

It hadn’t been long at all before a young man brought out two steaming bowls of jjajangmyeon. His scruffy beard, stretched-out collar, underwear peeking over his pants—none of it fit a restaurant. He licked his finger where it had dipped into the sauce, then plopped down beside Jinyoung. Black earrings, a lip piercing, tattoos crawling up his neck—this was Black Dragon Pavillion’s real owner, and Jinyoung’s informant.

“You really put me in a spot when you show up unannounced like this, Noona. And if you’re gonna eat, at least order something pricier. Jjajangmyeon? Not even a large? What, you dieting?”

“With how much a government worker makes? You’re the one raking it in—how about you treat us to some fried dumplings?”

“Raking it in? Look around—business is dead. And this tiger guy, he your new partner?”

The man gave a small bow, though his stiff wariness leaked through.

“I’m Jeom-baek, owner of Black Dragon Pavillion. A pleasure, Hyung-nim.”

“Ah… yes. Baek Beomjin.”

Their eyes met briefly. Beneath the heavy perfume clung the faint scent of dog. His swagger and flippant voice were exactly as he remembered.

“So what’s the deal? What brings you here in broad daylight, Noona?”

“Wanted to know if any troublemakers have been stirring lately.”

“In this neighborhood? Nah, same as always. Everyone’s living like scared little mice.”

“I’m not asking about cowards. I want to hear about the other kind. You know—there are always people like that.”

Beomjin’s voice hardened like a threat, but Jeom-baek immediately waved his hands.

“Come on, how many shady types are there? You’ll have to be more specific—dog? Cat? Rat? Or maybe a bat?”

“Snake.”

“Snake? Really?!”

Jeom-baek practically leapt like a cartoon character.

“I don’t know much about snakes. Don’t want to, either. You know how they are—always creeping around with their own kind. Even if one shows up here, they just eat and slip out fast.”

“Whether you’re friends or not, all the gossip flows through you. You playing dumb so you can charge us more?”

Jinyoung pressed him, but Jeom-baek didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned back, grinning like he had all the time in the world.

“What, you think I’m some vending machine? Push my buttons and I spit out info? I’m telling you, I don’t know about snakes. But I do have things on other rats. Don’t you wanna hear those?”

Beomjin snorted. The man was obviously lying through his teeth, and that smugness made him all the more infuriating. Fine. Let’s see how long he could keep that mouth shut.

“If you’ve got nothing, we’ll be going. Enjoy the jjajangmyeon, Noona. If something comes up, we’ll see you again.”

“Hold it.”

Beomjin stopped Jeom-baek as he tried to rise.

“Just one question.”

His tone was polite, but with a growl hidden underneath. Jeom-baek swallowed.

“…What is it?”

“What’s the most popular dish here?”

“…Yukhoe bibimbap.”¹

“Snakes like raw beef too?”

“They do. But why?”

“Just wanted to check. Thanks for the answer.”

Jeom-baek’s eyes lingered on him, but Beomjin brushed it off, turning to Jinyoung with a sly grin.

“Huh, I never knew snakes liked raw beef. Guess that explains it. Thanks, that’s a solid lead.”

His raised thumb made Jeom-baek narrow his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Hyung-nim?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s that ‘never knew’ crap? What are you talking about, Hyung-nim?”

“Just an inside joke between us. Don’t worry about it.”

Beomjin mixed his untouched jjajangmyeon, took a huge bite, chewed, and wiped his mouth clean with a napkin.

“Man, this is good. I’ll come back for a real meal when I’m not busy. But today, I’ll be going.”

At his gesture, Jinyoung stood as well.

“Hold on. I can’t just let you leave like this.”

Jeom-baek flicked his fingers. The men who’d been drinking soju all stood at once. Reeking of alcohol, they lumbered forward and surrounded Beomjin and Jinyoung.

“What do you think you’re doing? You sure you can handle this?”

Jinyoung shot back, but Jeom-baek only sneered.

“I know you’re scary, Noona, but sometimes life doesn’t give you choices. Tell me how much you know, and I’ll let you walk out without a scratch.”

…Beomjin sized them up. Dogs on this side, cats over there, rats mixed in. Birds of a feather, indeed.

“You nervous, bastard? Afraid the sparks will catch you too?”

Jeom-baek didn’t flinch at the taunt.

“Hyung-nim, first time here, maybe you don’t get how this works. But in a place like this, you shut up, answer, and leave quietly. This isn’t a game.”

Beomjin twisted his lips into a grin.

The way Jeom-baek squared his shoulders and strained his voice, trying to intimidate him—it was just like old times. For a moment, it felt like the past had come back. He echoed a line from back then.

“Puppies never know how scary tigers are.”

“And tigers don’t drop dead when a blade stabs ‘em?”

“Wanna bet who dies first?”

“Wait—stop!”

“Kill them both!” Jeom-baek roared.

Jinyoung, panicked, tried to step in. But the first fist was already flying toward Beomjin’s face.