62 — Chapter 62

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You’re about to spill your coffee.”

Jinyoung’s voice snapped him back. The cup in his hand had tilted dangerously, drops of coffee trembling at the rim.

“What? Do you know her? Or did you… fall for her?”

She tilted her head at Taeryeon. From a woman’s perspective, Taeryeon wasn’t exactly unattractive—but she wasn’t the type men usually fell for at first glance either. Her broad shoulders and massive fists looked like they belonged to someone from a giant’s island.

“…No. She just feels familiar. Maybe I passed by her somewhere.”

He coughed and turned away, trying to hide the panic.

“Come on, how do you not remember someone who looks like that?”

Jinyoung shook her head like he was being ridiculous.

Using his cup as a shield, Beomjin studied Taeryeon carefully.

There was no mistake. He could still see her grabbing an oncoming car and flipping it like a toy.

“But I’ve never met an Elephant Beast-Blooded before. Is being that huge part of the genetics?”

“Then why is the Director shaped like a swallow yet has that gut?”

Jinyoung burst into laughter, covering her face while snickering. Beomjin kept a straight face, sipping his coffee without humor.

Why… how did Taeryeon end up here in the Special Beast Investigation Unit?

Was she still under Geonmyeong? Or not anymore?

He couldn’t answer a single question. The uncertainty suffocated him.

Soon, the introduction ended and employees applauded, welcoming her. She entered the Director’s office with Suchan. It seemed over—until Suchan peeked out the door.

“Agent No Woo-seong, and Agent Baek Beomjin. A moment in the Director’s office.”

“…Me?”

A bad feeling made his chest tighten. He stood slowly and took a deep breath before stepping inside.

“Agent Baek, sit here.”

Beomjin and Woo-seong sat side by side. Across from them sat Taeryeon, and at the head of the table—Suchan, legs crossed, relaxed as always.

“As I just introduced: this is Specialist No Woo-seong, and this is Agent Baek Beomjin, who’s been doing excellent work lately.”

Taeryeon and Beomjin exchanged a brief, stiff greeting.

“Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.”

“Good, good. Let’s all get along. Now, the reason the three of you are here—”

Suchan rubbed his palms together, clearly excited.

“We’re becoming a new team?”

Woo-seong spoke first.

Thick, dark brows steady—almost like he had already predicted it.

“That’s right. As of today, the two of you are assigned to the newly formed Special Cases Task Force.”

Taeryeon delivered the news like she was reading directly from a manual. Suchan followed up:

“Lately we’ve been seeing a rise in unusual, nonstandard cases. We need people with abilities that match those cases. Expectations are high—very high.”

Beomjin and Woo-seong exchanged glances.

No Woo-seong—mid-30s, Crow Beast-Blooded. Rumored to have never failed a mission.

Beomjin had always worked best with Jinyoung—she knew his rhythm, his instincts. A new partner meant friction. A different pace. A shift.

Woo-seong radiated confidence from the first impression, cold precision in his eyes—no wasted motion, no wasted words.

A personality that demanded caution… and promised capability.

Maybe I need something unfamiliar.

A new spark.

Beomjin looked at him again, quietly acknowledging the thought.

“Together, you two can solve anything. I’m sure of it.”

But Beomjin’s head only felt more tangled.

Was this Taeryeon’s scheme?

A coincidence?

How was he supposed to treat her?

“Well? Like it? Hate it? Say something.”

Suchan looked annoyed by their silence.

When he first set foot here, he wasn’t even a real agent. He kept his distance—operated loosely for one reason only: to chase Jin Geonmyeong.

He valued instincts over commands. Flexibility over protocol.

But now— this was different.

Taeryeon.

Once Geonmyeong’s direct subordinate in the future he remembered.

If she still carried traces of Geonmyeong… accepting this role might be the fastest shortcut to the truth.

“…Understood. I accept the assignment.”

His voice was steady, but doubt trembled beneath it. Woo-seong, in contrast, replied without emotion:

“Yes. Got it.”

“Knew you’d both agree. Chief Lee will like you two.”

Suchan applauded cheerfully. Taeryeon nodded politely toward him in return.

Beomjin met Taeryeon’s gaze again—her smile barely, barely lifting one corner.

He held back the questions burning on his tongue. There would be time. He would wait.

---

“I’m a results-first leader. I care about the outcome, not the process—and the faster, the better.”

Taeryeon’s voice hit the conference room walls like steel. Not aggressive—yet powerful enough to make a person feel crushed just by listening.

“We are a pilot task force. Our reporting lines, procedures, budget—everything is different from standard units. We handle cases that are anything but simple. So leave your preconceptions at the door.”

She tapped a black marker against the whiteboard, each click sharp as gunfire.

It was the first time he had heard her speak so much—and already, her words matched her actions perfectly.

“But we can’t just ignore the law, right?”

“The law? From the way you phrased that… you’re considering some extreme measures, aren’t you? Like… jaywalking?”

At Taeryeon’s teasing jab, Woo-seong gave a small, controlled smirk and continued calmly:

“I’m asking for clarity on how far our authority extends. We can’t focus on investigations if no one promises to take responsibility afterward.”

Beomjin didn’t speak—
but he agreed completely.

“You won’t need to worry about that. If you knew where I came from, those doubts wouldn’t even exist.”

With that, Taeryeon slid a file across the table.

“Your first mission.”

The file didn’t contain much. Profiles of two victims. Everyday photos. Crime scene photos. A brief field report. Then— a third address. That was all.

But the gruesomeness could never fit inside a report. Blood-soaked bodies. Uncountable stab wounds. Images that made one’s eyes want to shut and never reopen.

“…A serial killer?”

At Beomjin’s question, Taeryeon pinned another photo to the board.

“Not until yesterday. Today? Yes.”

The new victim—a young woman. Following an elderly man, then a middle-aged woman—
now a third tragedy.

“These three share nothing. Different regions. Different ages. Different lifestyles. Nothing in common.”

“There’s one thing.”

Woo-seong spoke first, as if waiting for the cue. His and Beomjin’s eyes met— a silent test in Woo-seong’s raised brow.

“And what is that common point?”

Before Woo-seong could answer, Beomjin interjected:

“All three are vulnerable targets. The second victim has a hearing aid.”

“Correct. And one more— they’re all Beast-Blooded. This is a targeted crime.”

Taeryeon set the file down and issued the order:

“This is your first assignment. Bring results. Capture the serial killer.”

Both men stood. Hand on the door, Beomjin asked one last time:

“As long as the result is clear, right?”

“Exactly. Whatever method. Even if there are… accidents.”

“Understood.”

They entered the elevator. When the doors opened on the first floor, Woo-seong muttered:

“The new Chief’s got guts.”

“No kidding.”

Beomjin repliedTaeryeon’s final words rang sharply in his ears. She didn’t care whether the killer lived or died.

---

The third crime scene was an abandoned construction site.

Work delays left the lot neglected—the smell of dust overpowering any trace of concrete.

Behind a low fence, bundles of rebar and stacks of bricks were scattered like an afterthought. Torn plastic sheets flapped listlessly in the wind.

On the dirt, tangled footprints overlapped—and long drag marks showed how the victim had been pulled. A single trail of desperate high-heel imprints marked her final struggle.

Blood splattered chaotically beside a poorly covered pile of materials.

“No CCTV, no reason for anyone to come here at night… a custom-built lawless zone.”

Woo-seong scanned the surroundings with a cynical glare.

Crossing the police line, the world seemed frozen. Even the midday sun avoided this place— a cold shadow swallowing everything between the concrete piles.

A flock of startled pigeons burst upward from the rebar.

At the center of the gloom—she lay there.

“The victim is Park Isol, seventeen years old. A high school student.”

The detective waiting for them sounded heavy—voice buried in grief.

Her youth—a bud not yet bloomed—was abandoned among lifeless bricks.

Pale, slender limbs marked with dozens of stab wounds like cruel scars. Her body curled inward, clinging to itself in terror. The creases left on her face—a small, brave attempt to endure the pain.

“…What reason could a girl her age have to die like this…”

Woo-seong lowered himself and whispered, voice cracking. Beomjin bowed his head, silent. The victim’s eyes—closed now—still seemed to demand justice.

“They dragged her between the stacks and killed her here. These are her prints… and those look like the killer’s.”

The detective pointed—the footprints weren’t large.

“Not even size 270.”

“Which means they’re targeting weaker victims.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The victim was last seen around 10:30 PM, in front of her study café. Estimated time of death: around 10:40 PM.

Listening to the detective, Beomjin examined the drag marks.

“Judging by these handprints, she tried to turn her body while being dragged. Up to here, the attacker held her by the back of the neck… then she twisted herself here. You can see the heel print from when she pushed to resist.”

Beside the victim, a clear shoe print pressed into her ribs—the attacker had sat on her, pinning her down as they delivered the strikes.

“With this many wounds, it feels like deep resentment.”

The detective pointed at the stab marks— but both Beomjin and Woo-seong disagreed.

“The wounds aren’t deep enough for personal hatred. If this were anger-driven, the stabs would show more force.”

“Maybe killing wasn’t the point. Maybe they were enjoying the fear—inflicting just enough pain.”

That was possible—psychopathic behavior.

But to Beomjin, the cuts felt different. Chaotic direction. Some barely 2mm deep. Some twisted sideways.

“I don’t think the killer was calm. It feels like they were the one terrified—swinging wildly as if something was chasing them.”

“…The killer was panicking?”

Interest glinted in Woo-seong’s eyesthis new partner was becoming more intriguing by the minute.

Though it was their first investigation together, their teamwork was seamless. Few words, precise deductions—their methods aligned almost perfectly.

Maybe this pairing wasn’t so bad.

“It’s not impossible. That would explain the messy knife marks. But then why? Who was chasing them?”

Silence stretched between them. Wind battered the yellow police tapeand in that moment, a new scent brushed past Beomjin’s nose.

“Wait.”

He followed the drag trail deeper toward the center. On a sack coated with cement dusta few droplets of blood.

Barely visible. But the scent was unmistakably different from the victim’s.

“Senior, we’ve got blood here.”

“There?”

Woo-seong crouched beside him, sniffing faintly.

“Different smell. Could be the killer’s.”

“And judging from the cut patterns, they’re definitely not skilled with a knife.”

“We should check the victim’s home. That should fill the gaps.”

“Agreed.”

The detective, overhearing, stepped forward.

“We haven’t contacted the parents yet. We still need them to formally identify the body.”

“Then we’ll go first. Understanding the victim’s situation will help during the official notification.”

Before leaving, Beomjin looked around the empty lot once more.

Plastic covers flapped under the breeze—dust and faint blood merging into an unsettling scent.

He stared up at the indifferent sky.

Only gray clouds drifted, unfazed by the cruelty below.

They walked quietly.

The closer they got to the victim’s home, the heavier their steps became.

Too many things didn’t make sense. The wound patterns. The method. The emotional profile of the killer.

Only one thing linked the dead— all were Beast-Blooded.

This isn’t just murder.

For their first Special Cases Task Force assignment— to face something this violent… it was likely only the beginning.

Why did they have to die?

Not curiosity—a warning sign.

Something was revealing itself. Slowly. Steadily.