Substitute-Chapter 22

Flashback #1: Three Months Before the Incident

“Sergeant Yoon, hey—Yoon! You coming?”

“Ah, yes. I’m coming.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh please. Is it going well?”

“Aw, why would you ask that? Of course it’s going well.”

Sergeant Yoon Jiwon cracked a joke as he hurried to join the team.

Twenty-eight this year, Yoon Jiwon was currently assigned to the Intelligence Division of the regional police department in a major provincial city. He’d risen through the ranks faster than most of his police academy peers, and he genuinely enjoyed his work—the position suited him.

Even in his personal life, there wasn’t much to criticize. He had a loving family. Both of his parents were civil servants, so retirement wasn’t a financial concern, and his only sibling was attending a top university. His relationship with his girlfriend was also solid—they’d only fought a handful of times.

If life were a voyage, Jiwon’s was smooth sailing.

It was during an ordinary workday, nothing out of the ordinary, when he received a text from his mother. It had come while he stepped away briefly, and something about it felt off.

Ever since he’d become a police officer, his mother texted him daily at mealtimes to ask if he’d eaten, what he ate. But today was different.

[Jiwon, can you come home?]

No greeting, no chit-chat—just straight to the point. That wasn’t like her. He immediately assumed it had something to do with his father and tried calling, but she didn’t answer.

Jiwon’s father, also a police officer, had voluntarily requested a transfer to his hometown early last year, three years ahead of retirement. As a result, he was now serving as the head of the local substation, reconnecting with old friends and childhood buddies—so often, in fact, that he was drinking almost every other day.

Already dealing with high blood pressure, his health had rapidly declined due to the constant drinking and poor eating habits. He’d even collapsed once.

Because of that, Jiwon’s mother—who’d been a middle school teacher in their hometown in Gyeonggi Province, where the family had lived all their lives—applied for early retirement. Since last fall, she’d been splitting her time between Chungcheong and Gyeonggi. Thanks to her efforts, his father had recovered quickly.

So when that sudden text arrived asking him to come “home,” Jiwon assumed it meant his father was drinking again—using the holidays as an excuse. That’s what “home” had come to mean lately: wherever his father was.

[What’s wrong? Dad’s blood pressure acting up again?]

[Bet the old man’s using year-end drinks as an excuse, huh?]

[Mom, don’t let it slide this time.]

[Why should you be the one to suffer?]

He fired off the texts and waited for a reply. By then, it was lunchtime.

Maybe she’s driving.

Two hours passed, and still no response. He figured she must’ve been rushing from Gyeonggi to “home,” and didn’t think much of it.

But that wasn’t it.

[It’s because of Jisoo. I’m in Gyeonggi. You need to come. Your father doesn’t know.]

Jisoo? Why?

He tilted his head.

His younger brother, Yoon Jisoo—five years his junior—was completely different from him. Quiet, sharp, studious. Not just smart, but strikingly good-looking. People had suggested he try child acting more than once when he was little.

Naturally, he’d had no shortage of girls around him as he grew up, but never got into trouble. No teenage rebellion. A smooth, unremarkable childhood and adolescence.

Thanks to their mother pushing him hard in his studies, he’d gotten into a university that people respected just by name alone. Adults around them often said how lucky the family was.

It wasn’t bragging, but their home was harmonious, and the brothers got along. Jiwon often bragged about how mature and brilliant his little brother was. Sure, the age gap meant they rarely had much in common, but he did his best to play the older brother. And Jisoo, for his part, usually listened to him.

After Jiwon became a working adult and Jisoo entered college, they barely saw each other—maybe once or twice a year. But their mother kept Jiwon updated. Then again, he barely paid attention, so he didn’t even know where in Seoul Jisoo lived or what his plans were for military service.

“Jisoo’s not going anywhere. Who’d have thought he’d end up living like a shut-in in Seoul.”

He couldn’t even remember what prompted that comment—but he had said it once to his mother.

Apparently, Jisoo hadn’t changed a bit, even in Seoul.

Model student. Bookworm. Socially clueless.

Which is why it was even stranger now.

Why him? Why Jisoo?

He tried calling again, but still no answer.

If she wouldn’t talk on the phone, it meant she needed to explain everything face-to-face. That was her way. He had no choice but to go to the family home.

After work, he postponed a date with his girlfriend and hurried to drive to Gyeonggi.

He arrived at the apartment just before 10 p.m. He hadn’t even finished punching in the door code when the door flung open.

His mother’s eyes were red.

“Mom, what’s going on? /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ What happened?”

He shouted in alarm.

“Come inside. Quickly.”

She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the entryway, shutting the door behind them.

The air inside was still cold—seemed the boiler had only just been turned on.

Since his mother was mostly staying in their father’s hometown these days, the apartment was often vacant. They’d even been talking about selling it soon.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

He asked again, but she didn’t answer.

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath.

“Did you eat?”

Her voice trembled.

“Yeah, I did. You?”

“Want some coffee?”

“What’s happening? What about Jisoo?”

“No... beer might be better.”

She kept dodging the question.

She had always been the kind of person who only spoke when she was ready, so Jiwon gave up and did what she wanted. He went to the convenience store and bought beer and snacks.

What on earth happened?

He hadn’t seen her this shaken since sixth grade, when their father got stabbed chasing a robber.

“Mom, tomorrow’s supposed to be freezing. The wind’s insane.”

He shivered as he placed the plastic bags on the table.

She had already started cooking rice in the pressure cooker and was boiling dried pollack soup. It didn’t seem like it was for them, but for the real subject of the conversation: Jisoo.

The two of them sat across from each other, drinking beer and chatting normally.

“How’s Heejin doing?”

“Yeah. She’s doing well. Keeps going on about how much she misses you.”

“What’s there to like so much about a future mother-in-law?”

She said it like a complaint, but she didn’t look the least bit annoyed.

“Who said we’re getting married?”

Jiwon answered on purpose like that, and his mother gave him a glare.

“You should be getting married. You think girls like Heejin come around every day? Honestly, you don’t know how lucky you are.”

“You like Heejin more than I do, I swear.”

“Of course I do. If I were a man, I’d have married her myself.”

Jiwon burst out laughing at that.

They’d actually been talking about marriage lately. He and Heejin, his girlfriend of two years—same age. Some people around them were saying twenty-eight was still too young to get married, but the two of them felt good about it.

“Don’t after-school teachers get vacations?”

“Vacation? Please. They need us because it’s vacation.”

“The kids okay to deal with?”

His mom gave him a sideways look, like what kind of question was that.

“You’ve gotten more cynical since becoming a cop.”

“I’ve always been cynical. I got it from you.”

“Ugh. Don’t say that like it’s something to be proud of.”

Between the two of them, “cynical” was also a joke about eyesight.

Jiwon had inherited his mom’s severe nearsightedness—his vision had been terrible since he was a kid. Meanwhile, his dad and younger brother had such perfect eyesight people joked they must be Mongolian.

When Jiwon decided to become a cop, the first thing he did was get eye surgery. Since driving was essential in the job, he chose lens implants with the lowest risk of glare, and he’d been doing fine for eight years without any drop in vision.

Still, teasing his mom about her eyes was one of his go-to jokes.

After they finished exchanging updates about their lives, his mom finally opened her mouth.

“Jisoo’s asleep. In his room.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. The kid’s a wreck.”

She let out a long sigh.

“A wreck? What do you mean? We’re talking about Jisoo, right?”

His mother frowned and cracked open another can of beer, downing it in big gulps.

“Mom.”

“There were signs.”

She said Jisoo had started changing after taking a leave from school the year before last.

It was during winter break of his sophomore year that Jisoo came home and said he’d landed an internship in a field he really wanted. He wanted to take a break from school.

He was a bit young to be starting a career, but they all thought it was a good thing—that maybe he’d found his calling early. The family had supported his decision.

And last year, they all thought he’d gone back to school as a junior—but apparently, that hadn’t happened.

Neither their father nor Jiwon had known.