Chapter 37

Kang Seo-eun’s brother’s restaurant sat along Cheongdam’s famous dining street. The first floor was a café, while the second housed the restaurant itself—a sleek, modern space filled with the smell of searing meat and butter that wafted all the way down the stairs.

The walls lining the staircase were decorated with minimalist dolls from around the world, a clear reflection of the owner’s neat, almost delicate taste.

By the time Beomjin and Jinyoung arrived, the lunch rush had already filled the place. Every table was occupied, the hum of conversations blending with the rhythmic sounds of plates and silverware.

“Welcome to Bonabetti Steak House. Thank you for dining with us. Table for two?” the front desk staff greeted with a professional smile.

Beomjin almost replied reflexively, “Two,” before catching himself. “We actually have an appointment with the owner. Could we see him for a moment?”

The staff quickly disappeared into the kitchen, and soon, a tall man in a chef’s uniform stepped out.

Even without his scent, Beomjin could tell right away—he was Beast-Blooded.

Towering like a basketball player with broad shoulders, long narrow eyes, and slightly pointed ears, his sharp features contrasted with the small, round lips that made him look almost dainty. He resembled Seo-eun, but there was a faint misalignment—like siblings who’d grown into different versions of the same face.

“Hello, I’m Kang Seoseong. Sorry for the delay—we just opened for lunch and I couldn’t leave the kitchen,” the man said courteously.

“No worries. We just need a few minutes of your time,” Jinyoung replied.

“Then please, come in.”

He led them into a back office that doubled as a break room. The décor was clean and minimalist—white walls, black furniture. It matched Seoseong’s image perfectly.

“So, what brings agents from the Special Beast Investigation Unit to see me?” he asked as he gestured for them to sit.

“Do you know the owner of Jumbo Hof, where your sister Seo-eun works?” Beomjin began.

“Of course. He’s my sister’s boyfriend. Is something wrong?”

“He’s dead. You haven’t heard?”

“What? Dead? Who—when—where?” Seoseong’s eyes widened. “Is my sister okay?”

“She found the body and made the call,” Jinyoung said.

Seoseong rubbed his forehead, exhaling shakily. “Why didn’t she call me first…”

“We discovered there was a financial connection between you and the victim,” Beomjin said, watching him closely.

“Yes, I lent him money,” Seoseong admitted, then frowned sharply. “Wait—are you accusing me?”

“That’s not our intention,” Jinyoung said calmly. “We’re only confirming facts.”

But Seoseong’s expression hardened. He suddenly stood, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Do I look like someone who’d kill over money? I took time out of work to speak to you, and now you’re throwing baseless accusations at me?” His voice rose, red creeping across his pale skin as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Understandable, you’d be angry if you lost money,” Beomjin said evenly. “But you’re overreacting.”

That stopped Seoseong cold for a moment—then he snapped.

“Get out. I don’t want to talk anymore. Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”

“We are the police, in a sense,” Beomjin replied coolly, eyes narrowing.

“That gives you the right to call innocent people murderers?” Seoseong barked. “I’m done talking. Get out!”

Jinyoung shot Beomjin a look. He stood, motioning toward the door. As they reached it, Beomjin paused and glanced back.

“If we have more questions later, how should we reach you?”

Seoseong’s only answer was to flip them off.

The moment they stepped out of the restaurant, Jinyoung spoke first.

“This guy’s guilty for sure.”

Her tone was flat, but the implication hung heavy. People didn’t usually explode like that over suspicion alone.

“Yeah,” Beomjin muttered. “His reaction was too strong—like he was forcing it. Either he’s hiding something… or trying to look innocent by overplaying it.”

He fell silent for a moment, thinking, then said, “You head back to HQ. Dig deeper into the victim and Kang Seoseong. I’ll circle the Jumbo Hof area and talk to the locals.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s swing by the scene again first.”

They arrived near Sadang Station. The intersection where Lines 2 and 4 met was already buzzing with life, even as night fell. Crowds streamed in and out of the underground exits, neon signs flickering to life around them.

“I’ll check around as much as I can. Let’s exchange what we find tomorrow at the office,” Jinyoung said.

“Yeah. Be careful,” Beomjin replied, waving her off.

Once she was gone, he made his way through the busy streets toward Jumbo Hof. Among the sea of glowing signs calling out for customers, only Jumbo Hof was dark. Its blackout made it feel like a portal to somewhere else—a place detached from the world around it.

Beomjin ducked into the jokbal restaurant (braised pig’s feet) next door. The small place had about eight tables, the air thick with the smell of soy, sugar, and simmering meat. A few glistening cuts hung behind the counter, and the sight alone made his stomach growl.

“Welcome,” the middle-aged woman at the register greeted warmly.

“Hello. I’m investigating the incident next door and was hoping to ask a few questions.”

“About that murder?” she asked immediately, eyes widening. “My god, I was so shocked. But honestly, I knew something like that would happen one day.”

Beomjin blinked. “You did?”

“Of course! You ever see that man? Always yelling, scaring people, acting like he owned the whole block. The cops even came once over a parking fight,” she said, slapping the counter for emphasis.

Before he could ask more, she pointed outside toward the karaoke building across the alley.

“See that motorcycle? The black 1000cc one?”

It was parked right at the entrance, blocking the door. A nuisance to anyone trying to get in.

“That belongs to the karaoke owner. They parked it there on purpose. The Hof guy used to hog all the parking spots with his car, refused to move it, so they started parking the bike there to get even. It’s been quiet ever since,” she said with a sniff.

“Doesn’t sound like he was well-liked,” Beomjin said.

“Not at all. Everyone around here hated him. Some people won’t say it out loud, but… I bet more than a few think he got what he deserved.”

Then, as if to distance herself from that thought, she quickly frowned. “Not me, of course.”

“How was his relationship with the manager? His girlfriend,” Beomjin asked.

“Oh, that poor girl? Don’t even get me started.” The woman leaned closer, lowering her voice but speeding up until her words ran together. “He barely showed up at the shop, didn’t manage anything, but the moment business dropped, he’d blame her for it. Always yelling—gaslighting her, that’s the word! Saying, ‘Because you’re useless, I can’t even pay back your brother!’ Disgusting.”

For fifteen minutes, she unloaded every rumor and complaint she’d ever had—half about the Hof, half about her own troubles. By the end, Beomjin’s notebook was a mess of half-finished notes and doodles.

When he finally stepped out, his head was spinning. If the woman’s story was true, then Seo-eun’s relationship with the victim wasn’t love—it was coercion.

So were those tears fake?

No. Too early to decide. He’d only heard one side.

He turned toward the sashimi restaurant on the Hof’s other side.

The owner there was polite but knew nothing. Across the street, the lamb skewer bar owner spoke with the venom of a lifelong grudge. The nearby convenience store clerk and chicken shop manager added little, but the pattern was clear.

The victim had been a thug—and Seo-eun, more servant than girlfriend.

After gathering what he could, Beomjin decided to grab dinner. The area was practically a food court, every other door leading to some restaurant wafting irresistible smells.

He was still deciding what to eat when he spotted someone familiar outside a big franchise pub—Jumbo Hof’s part-timer, laughing and stumbling out with her friends, cheeks flushed pink from alcohol.

“Oh! You again?” she said, recognizing him instantly. “Still working this late?”

“That’s the investigator looking into our boss’s death! Say hi, everyone!”

At the part-timer’s words, her friends nodded politely, though their faces showed more curiosity than respect.

“So, did you catch the killer yet? Who was it?” one of them asked.

“We’re still investigating,” Beomjin replied evenly.

“Hey, don’t interrogate the officer. Come on, stop bothering him,” another friend said, tugging her away.

As the group began to move off together, the part-timer broke free, running straight into the arms of a man lingering behind them.

He was a thin guy in horn-rimmed glasses, his face flushing bright red as she hugged him tight.

“Hehe, it’s so fun drinking and hanging out with you like this,” she giggled, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

“Hey, you’re embarrassing me—in front of everyone,” he mumbled awkwardly.

Her friends laughed, shaking their heads. “See? One drop of alcohol and she turns into this. Come here, you menace.”

They pulled her away playfully, leaving the man standing alone. Beomjin took the chance to approach.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?”

“M-Me?” The man took a small step back, startled.

“That woman just now—your girlfriend?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… I’m Minyul’s boyfriend. Park Incheol.”

His voice was small and careful, and even while talking, his eyes kept darting toward where Minyul had gone, like a kid afraid to be caught.

“You’ve heard about what happened at the bar where she works, right?” Beomjin asked.

“Yes. I still can’t believe it happened…” Incheol twisted his fingers nervously. His lips were dry; he kept licking them.

“Did she ever mention having a hard time at work?”

“Well, sometimes she’d get upset, sure. There were days she came home drinking with Seo-eun, too.”

“Seo-eun—as in the manager, Kang Seo-eun?”

“Yeah. They went to the same high school.”

Beomjin’s eyes widened slightly. “You know her well?”

“Not really. We’ve hung out a few times, the three of us. That’s about it.”

He smiled faintly, trying to seem casual.

“Hey, what are you doing? Hurry up!”

Minyul came bouncing back, throwing her arms around him again. She pressed her lips against his face without a care in the world, completely ignoring Beomjin standing right there.

“If that’s all, can we go now?” Incheol asked apologetically.

“Yeah. Thank you for your time,” Beomjin said.

Dragged off by Minyul, Incheol still managed a polite bow over her shoulder. His awkward sincerity made Beomjin chuckle despite himself.

As he walked back through the crowd, mentally sorting through the information he’d gathered, he found himself passing Jumbo Hof again.

He glanced toward it—and froze.

From the alley behind the building, two figures emerged: the head chef and the kitchen assistant.

“This late? Are they just getting off work?” Beomjin murmured.

But something about them was off. They were shoving something bulky into a large backpack, glancing around as they did. Suspicious. Too suspicious.

Instinctively, Beomjin slipped into the crowd, moving closer without drawing attention. Just as he did, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

The sender: Seoyul.

[Uncle, I keep thinking about Grandma. She’s going to be okay, right?]

To anyone else, it might’ve seemed like a simple message. But Beomjin knew better. For Seoyul—who almost never showed emotion—those words carried a quiet loneliness.

He wanted to go to her. To tell her everything would be fine. But not now. Not when the case was deepening into darker waters.

[Tomorrow, I’ll try to arrange a visit. Don’t worry too much.]

He sent the reply, then pocketed his phone and resumed his silent pursuit.

The two figures turned down the narrow street, their backpacks bulging with whatever they’d packed inside.

Beomjin followed, keeping his distance. The night air felt heavy with tension, every step echoing against the dark pavement.