Chapter 41

The police car screeched to a stop, and the red-and-blue siren lights swept across the walls of Jumbo Hof. Two officers pushed through the entrance without hesitation.

“Park Incheol, you are under arrest for murder.”

The metallic click of handcuffs broke the air. Incheol lowered his head in silence, his expression one of weary acceptance — as if he had already decided to bear it all.

Beside him, Seo-eun grabbed his arm with trembling hands. “Incheol, I never wanted it to end like this… I told you not to say anything….”

A police officer restrained her, and she stepped back, eyes glistening with tears — yet beneath her composure was a trace of something calculated.

Seo Jinyoung arrived shortly after, still processing the scene.

“What happened all of a sudden? He confessed?”

“Yeah. But it’s not all tied up yet. We don’t have solid evidence.”

Beomjin’s gaze stayed fixed on Seo-eun. She was clutching Incheol’s hands like some tragic heroine.

“Why are you staring at her like that?” Jinyoung asked.

“…I’m wondering when her mask will finally fall off.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Explain.”

Jinyoung waited for an answer, but Beomjin turned away.

“Never mind. What about the favor I asked?”

“You mean the search of Incheol’s car?”

Jinyoung pointed across the street. Several officers were gathered around a dust-covered white Avante.

“We’ve secured the vehicle. They’re testing for blood traces now. If your hunch is right, we’ll find evidence soon enough.”

“Good. Once they check the car…”

Beomjin’s eyes widened mid-sentence.

“The black box…!”

He sprinted toward the Avante, yanked open the passenger door, and peered inside. The dashcam looked intact, memory card still inserted. If no one had tampered with it, then the truth might still be waiting there.

When Beomjin emerged holding the card, Jinyoung already had a laptop and card reader ready. Watching from afar, Seo-eun froze mid-motion, her hand still halfway to wiping her tears. Her pupils darted frantically.

“There might be something left on this,” Beomjin said, locking eyes with her.

He began fast-forwarding through the footage. The closer he got to the time of the incident, the closer Seo-eun crept toward them.

Moments later, he found it.

The screen flickered in the dark — the inside of the car. The timestamp showed around 2 a.m. on the night of the murder. The drunk victim staggered toward the vehicle. On either side of him stood Seo-eun and Incheol.

“Oppa, get it together. You need to get in the car,” Seo-eun’s voice said from the footage.

Everyone heard it — even Incheol, standing silently among the police.

In the present, Seo-eun’s face drained of color. Her anxious gaze met Beomjin’s — and was instantly trapped by the tiger’s unblinking stare.

“Ah…”

The video played on, indifferent to her panic.

The victim slumped into the backseat with Seo-eun’s help. Incheol climbed in beside him, while Seo-eun took the passenger seat. Their voices filled the cramped car.

“Can you really do it?”

“…Just trust me. I’ll take care of it.”

“Really? You promise? You’ll handle it?”

Seo-eun’s tone brightened, trembling with hope.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

A brief silence followed — punctuated by soft kissing sounds — then rustling. Seo-eun’s voice cut through the quiet.

“I’ll hold him. Make sure you stab properly, got it?”

Beomjin’s brow twitched as the horrific image formed in his mind. He paused the video and looked up. Everyone was staring at Seo-eun.

“W-wait, that’s not—”

She stammered fragments — It’s not what you think, Listen to me, That’s not it — but the disbelief in every face crushed her. Her shoulders twitched, and her once-weak frame trembled with tension. When she looked up again, her eyes were wild — unrecognizable.

“…S-Seo-eun,” Incheol whispered.

Like a rabid dog, she lunged at him.

“You useless bastard! What are you?!”

Shoving aside the officers, Seo-eun clawed at Incheol’s arm. Blood splattered as her nails dug deep.

“You couldn’t even do one damn thing right? You idiot!”

Her shrieking voice cracked, raw with fury. Incheol reeled like a scarecrow, calling her name over and over.

Beomjin and Jinyoung rushed in to pull her away. When they finally wrenched her arms back, her nails tore skin and left strips of flesh dangling. Even restrained in Jinyoung’s grip, Seo-eun kept screaming.

“I never trusted you! Never!!”

“I did my best! Everything you wanted—I did it! You didn’t even have to say it—I just did!”

Incheol cried through tears.

“What?! You pathetic fool! What did you even do right?!”

Seo-eun thrashed so violently that Jinyoung nearly lost her hold.

Only when both the tiger and the bear pinned her down did she stop. The special Beast-Blooded cuffs snapped shut around her wrists, but even then, she screamed curses until her mouth was forcibly covered.

That was when a car rolled to a stop nearby.

Seo-eun’s face lit up instantly. The driver’s door opened, and a tall man stepped out.

“Oppa!”

Kang Seoseong.

Expressionless, he surveyed the scene — the gathered officers, the bloodied pair in restraints. His eyes steadied, cold and calm.

The furious Seo-eun from moments ago turned meek before him, like a mouse before a snake.

“Oppa, you’ll help me, right? You have to. You knew what I was doing… you knew….”

Seo-eun reached out desperately, her hand trembling as if clinging to a ledge. But Seoseong didn’t answer. His gaze, devoid of emotion, dropped to his sister—and with a cold motion, he pushed her hand away.

Thud. Her fingertips fell limply to her side.

“Oppa…?”

“You take responsibility for what you’ve done. Don’t drag me into it.”

Seo-eun collapsed to the floor as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. When she finally rose, her earlier madness was gone. She allowed herself to be led away quietly by Jinyoung, her steps lifeless.

“I only came to check on the bar’s closure, and this is what I find…” Seoseong muttered bitterly.

Before he could leave, Beomjin stepped into his path.

“You’re not even going to hear your sister out?”

“…There’s no need to.”

“She’s an accomplice to murder.”

“I see. I didn’t think she’d go that far.”

Seoseong’s brows knit together.

“Well, that’s unpleasant. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

He turned to leave, but Beomjin’s arm shot out, blocking his way. In his hand was the ledger taken from Na-hyung’s gambling den.

“…I’ll let you go for now,” Beomjin said quietly.

Seoseong’s eyes flicked to the notebook, then back to Beomjin.

“But this isn’t over yet. It’s only beginning.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

With a faint, mocking smile, Seoseong brushed past him, climbed into his car, and drove away.

Seo-eun and Incheol were interrogated as accomplices. The black box footage laid everything bare — their roles, their intent. It became the decisive evidence proving that Seo-eun had been actively involved in planning the murder.

Incheol insisted it was all his doing, but his claim fell apart under scrutiny. Rejected by her brother, Seo-eun finally admitted that she had both planned and executed the crime. In the end, both were officially charged, and the Jumbo Hof murder case came to a close.

But one thing still remained in Beomjin’s hands — the ledger.

“I’ll take this and look into it myself,” Jinyoung said, accepting it without hesitation. That left Beomjin with something rare: a brief moment of rest.

That evening, Beomjin was spending his long-awaited downtime at home when someone knocked on the door.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He wasn’t expecting anyone. Hardly anyone ever came unannounced, so he peered through the door viewer just to be sure.

Outside stood an older man in a beanie, glancing around nervously. When his face came into view, Beomjin’s eyes widened — Ha Sanmu.

“Ah, you’re home. Thank goodness.”

The tension on Sanmu’s face eased into a smile.

Beomjin, caught off guard by the unexpected visit, still looked uncertain.

“Uh… hello.”

“Yes, yes. You look well. I was hoping we could talk for a bit.”

“Of course, come in.”

Beomjin stepped aside to let him in. A faint, musty scent drifted in ahead of the man. Dressed in worn, dirty clothes with a matching backpack, Ha Sanmu entered and took a slow look around before stopping in the living room.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Sorry to bother you at this hour.”

“It’s fine.”

Sanmu settled into the couch, glancing around the modest apartment with a warm, satisfied smile.

“It’s good to see Baekhwa’s son doing well.”

“Thank you.”

Ha Sanmu set down the teacup Beomjin had handed him. He hesitated for a long while before finally speaking.

“I didn’t plan on dropping by like this, but… I didn’t have your number or any way to reach you, so I had no choice but to come here.”

Beomjin almost asked how he even knew his address—but he didn’t have to.

“I just followed the tiger’s scent,” Sanmu said with a faint grin. “Wasn’t that hard to find.”

The smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

“I came because I need a favor.”

“A favor… from me?”

Beomjin swallowed hard. A request from the Black Tortoise himself—his throat tightened before he could respond.

Sanmu paused again, as if weighing the words before letting them fall.

“I want you to kill someone.”

“…What? Kill someone?”

Beomjin steadied his breath and asked carefully. Sanmu gave a slow nod, then abruptly changed the subject.

“By the way, did you ever find that Dragon we talked about? I’ve been curious.”

“Yes. I found traces of the Dragon’s bloodline in the village you mentioned. It took some trouble, but…”

“That’s good news.”

Silence returned. Sanmu’s gaze drifted to the teacup, then to the floor. Beomjin waited, unsure if the man would ever finish his thought.

“May I ask… who you want me to kill?”

“…That’s the thing,” Sanmu said quietly. “Even I’m not sure if I should be asking this of you.”

He lifted his eyes. The calm surface of his voice barely concealed the sharp weight beneath. It felt like being measured—tested.

“…Can you do it?”

The answer didn’t come right away. Beomjin’s pulse pounded loud in his ears. He couldn’t tell if Sanmu could hear it too. Should he accept a request from one of the Four Guardian Deities… or refuse?

“I met him recently,” Sanmu continued. “When you live among vagrants long enough, you see all kinds of people. But this one… this one is different. Dangerous.”

His tone sank lower, pulling the air down with it. Listening to him was like being dragged into deep water—heavy and suffocating. His blank expression, eyes fixed on the floor, carried something eerie beneath the stillness.

“…His whole body reeks of blood. Morning, night—it doesn’t matter. And it’s not just blood. Something fouler…”

Sanmu’s tongue slipped out as if he were trying to rid himself of the taste.

Beomjin leaned forward. “He’s Beast-Blooded, isn’t he?”

“That’s right. And not one you meet every day.”

A grim smile curved at the corner of Sanmu’s mouth.

“Ussuri. A leopard.”¹

“…A leopard?”

The world seemed to dim for a heartbeat.

Like the tigers, leopards among the Beast-Blooded were nearly extinct. And this one—this man—was someone Beomjin knew. Someone as vicious as any creature he’d ever faced.

Someone whose throat he had already crushed once before.