Chapter 39 :

<39>

"Still, since this is illegal business… when it comes to minors, you understand… right?"

As she said that, she handed Se-gun his belongings. Se-gun took his motorcycle helmet and only then began fidgeting anxiously, apparently worried about his bike. He had even locked the chain, but he had left it unattended on a road where people passed by now and then.

Two whole days had passed. And if it had snowed during that time and the bike had been exposed, rust would have started forming. It was an older used model to begin with—if rust set in, there would be no real remedy.

"I’ll charge you according to the bill. Even if I prescribe something, it’ll be hard to get the medicine… Just take some anti-inflammatory drugs and remove the stitches yourself later. Whatever you were doing when you got hurt is none of my concern. Right?"

As she spoke, she handed Se-gun the invoice. When he looked at it, it listed three blood transfusions and thorough surgical treatment inside and out, totaling about five million won. Considering that health insurance didn’t apply, it was relatively cheap hospital fees—but it was still a heavy burden for Se-gun.

It was true that he felt a slight regret. He had stirred up the Sang-dong faction for no reason and now found himself stuck paying medical bills. Still, without a word, Se-gun pulled out his debit card.

"Where’s the nearest ATM around here?"

“….”

At that, she examined Se-gun’s wounds again. He had regained consciousness, but his injuries were still severe. If he hadn’t taken Psychedelic Moon, he would probably have frozen to death on the street by now—like a match girl in the height of the Christmas mood. For someone in that condition to be going outside already was foolish.

"No. Just pay the treatment fee later."

"Huh?"

Se-gun was startled by her words. People involved in illegal work tended to be especially obsessed with money. Moreover, in this kind of business, there was no trust between parties—you couldn’t just say, ‘Bring it later.’

"Ah!"

But Se-gun closed his mouth when he saw her pull out his resident registration card.

"I know a cop—what do you guys call them, pigs? If I’ve got this, I think I’ll manage just fine."

After saying that, she pointed toward the entrance.

"You seem steady enough on your feet. That’s reassuring. So, will you leave now?"

"Ah."

Only then did Se-gun realize he had been staying in the woman’s house and felt slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, right. What’s your name?"

"My name? What would you do knowing that, Han Se-gun?"

Se-gun glared at her. Leaving his ID behind while wandering around… what he was doing now was far too dangerous. Engaging in illegal activities meant he couldn’t afford to be careless. But the woman met his eyes—eyes sharpened by a life shaved down to nothing but sheer stubbornness—without flinching. Judging by the scars on her own face, she too had not lived an easy life. Somehow, he felt he could trust her.

"Then I should change clothes."

Se-gun went into the room, took off the patient gown, and changed into his racer suit. He had suffered massive blood loss—his suit should have been soaked in blood. Yet it had been neatly washed and folded. After changing back into it, Se-gun exited through the doorway.

* * *

Detective Sim Gu-jin returned to Yeongdeungpo Police Station, reported the progress of the case, and came back to his desk. After moving around so much lately, his desk was piled high with paperwork. He had instructed junior officers to collect testimonies from residents who heard gunshots at the time, and now those statements had returned in the form of documents.

"How is it, Detective Sim?"

Detective Jo, who had first enlisted as a conscripted policeman and ended up planting himself there before eventually becoming a detective through the police exam, wore a sly smile. He, too, had gained considerable practical experience and was quite adept at this sort of thing.

"Hmph. You fishing for praise, you punk?"

"No, not exactly….”

Detective Jo said so, but he couldn’t hide his displeasure. Still, Detective Sim’s condition had been far from normal lately. He constantly scanned his surroundings nervously and sometimes collapsed on his desk or in the hallway, muttering nonsense in his sleep. Expecting kind words from someone like that was unrealistic.

"It seems the two men found near this PC café moved this way… and engaged in a shootout, threatening civilians. Based on the statements so far."

Detective Jo spread out a map and pointed to the route taken by Se-gun and Deok-yeon. Because a man they had dismissed as just a PC café regular gave testimony, the police had received this information. He hadn’t gotten a clear look, so they couldn’t create a composite sketch—but Se-gun and Deok-yeon’s gear had been distinctive enough to yield detailed testimony.

Thus, Detective Jo was reconstructing the events of that night step by step, almost as if painting a picture. But Detective Sim, perhaps due to his worsening neurosis, looked at him with clear irritation as he presented his hard-earned findings.

"But if that’s the case, then what about this vehicle? The guys who fought here used a car to reach the PC café and then disappeared—that would mean they…”

"Obviously a diversionary tactic. This isn’t just a random shooting—it’s a war. That means it’s impossible that only one faction was moving!"

Detective Jo’s tone nearly bordered on berating Detective Sim. Though he was technically the junior officer, Detective Jo surpassed Detective Sim in nearly every respect—achievement, skill, and drive. Faced with such a capable and ambitious subordinate, Sim felt no joy.

"Fine, whatever. So is there any result? Anything from the scene verification?"

"That part, I’m not entirely sure… There’s nothing definitive to present yet."

Just then, the door opened and a young man was brought in by police officers. He wore a loose racer suit and had his right arm wrapped in bandages.

"Move it, you bastard!"

"You dragged me in without a warrant… Now you’re really going all out."

"What? You little shit! Barely dry behind the ears and talking about warrants? I’m the warrant, you punk!"

The officer who had brought him in immediately raised his hand as if to strike him. But when Detective Jo cleared his throat as a warning, the officer lowered it. These days, with civic groups gaining power, police couldn’t freely resort to violence anymore. Still, they often ignored warrants and procedures for convenience’s sake.

The young man, however, was unusual. He didn’t cower before the police but calmly took a seat. Either he frequented police stations regularly, or he simply had tremendous nerve. The officer placed a word processor in front of him and glared.

"What’s your name?"

"Han Se-gun."

The young man answered and handed over his license. Though he cooperated readily, the officer didn’t hide his irritation as he drafted the report.

"That motorcycle’s yours, right? Where’d the blood come from? And what’s with the arm injury?"

"An accident."

The young man answered simply. The officer bristled with anger.

"You think I’m an idiot? You think I can’t tell the difference between a stab wound and a motorcycle accident? You expect me to believe you got wounds like that from a crash? And what about the Japanese sword found nearby?"

"It’s not mine."

"Don’t give me that crap!"

The officer barked at him. Seeing this, Detective Sim Gu-jin stood up.

"Enough, enough! What are you doing?"

"He’s obviously lying, so I just—"

"Why bother with some brat like that? If he got stabbed in a fight and dies, that’s his problem—unless it causes a bigger issue. He doesn’t want to die, either."

Muttering that, Detective Sim Gu-jin approached Han Se-gun.

Then it happened.

Flap-flap-flap!

That sound again—he couldn’t tell whether it was hallucination or real. Startled, Detective Sim Gu-jin looked out the window, but there were no pigeons, no magpies—nothing at all.

“……”

Outside, the city was bustling in anticipation, one week before Christmas. Banners hung from distant department stores, advertisements blared everywhere, and carols—now practically the city’s theme song—played on repeat. Amid those sounds, the police officers in this office continued their work, lethargic and indifferent.

A flutter that loud would have made anyone curious, yet no one paid it any attention. Instead, they merely cast strange looks at Detective Sim Gu-jin as he suddenly seemed to lose his composure.

"Wings?"

But only the young man named Han Se-gun turned his head toward the window, showing curiosity.

Two days before Christmas, at night, Se-gun was unloading boxes from a large van and carrying them into an old factory. The dilapidated feed warehouse located in Buk-myeon, Dangjin, Chungcheongnam-do had been left abandoned after being ravaged by flood damage. It had become so desolate that one could believe it was a set from a horror folk tale series.

The fact that there were few people around was another advantage. Of course, they couldn’t wage a massive gunfight here—but it would be hard to find a better place to deal with vampires. In a place like Seoul, packed with humans where weapons couldn’t be freely used, vampires with superior physical abilities would have the upper hand.

"Alright, then. Are the preparations finished?"

Muttering to himself, Se-gun checked his bandolier. His magazine pouches were stuffed full, a blade was strapped to his back, and a knuckle-shot was attached to his hand. The bulletproof vest he had used before couldn’t even reliably stop handgun rounds, so he had specially prepared reinforced Level IV ceramic armor and even wore a Kevlar helmet like something the U.S. military would use. He looked like a soldier preparing for war.

"This is insane! Is this really the Republic of Korea?"

With a rustling sound, Detective Sim Gu-jin stepped inside. He kept grumbling, as if he could hardly believe what was happening before his eyes. Se-gun looked at him and spoke sharply.

"I told you not to move and to wait in that room. You’ll ruin the booby traps."

Saying that, Se-gun turned his gaze toward the window. Since it was a storage window, it was positioned too high for a person to reach—but with boxes stacked inside, it was climbable. As he climbed up, there were so many spiderwebs that he quickly became covered in them.

"I hope they’re the kind with some common sense."

"They do have common sense. It’s just unfortunate that a vampire’s common sense isn’t the same as a human’s."

Se-gun said this to Detective Sim, who was nervously scanning the surroundings. Sim looked up at Se-gun, who stood atop the precariously stacked boxes, peering out the window.

"You sure you’ll be okay? Don’t you need at least one more person to shoot? I didn’t train much in firearms back in juvenile division, but I’m confident I shoot better than you."

Certainly, a police officer would be more familiar with firearms than an ordinary person. But Se-gun scoffed.

"If you’re confident you can hit a human-sized target 400 meters away with a single shot at night, then you’d be helpful. Otherwise, staying in the safe room is the greatest help you can give. Got it? Stay hidden inside. And when I come in, I’ll shout ‘Permanent Member State’ first… If the door just opens without that, torch it with the flamethrower."

With that, Se-gun pushed Detective Sim inside. Protecting Sim Gu-jin from the vampires—that was the immediate task that had fallen upon Se-gun.

"'Permanent Member State'? That’s a damn pathetic code word."

"If you have time to nitpick about that, then I guess you don’t need me. I’m not exactly in a good mood right now… so let’s keep it appropriate."

Saying that, Se-gun checked his watch. A semi-permanent sports watch that required no batteries emitted a bluish chromagraph glow in the darkness. Sunset was approaching.

From the police station’s internal broadcast speakers, Christmas carols flowed out. The speakers, designed more for transmitting orders than for music appreciation, had terrible sound quality—but they were enough to soften the stiff atmosphere of the station. Still, for the people dragged into the station, whether carols or hymns played, it wouldn’t leave a good impression.

Se-gun was currently one of those people brought into the station. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that a vampire hunter’s life ended the moment they were caught in the net of the law. Most of their trade tools were illegal weapons, they used unauthorized drugs, and if necessary, they killed humans as well. In some ways, they were worse than vampires.

That was why, when brought into a police station and questioned about additional crimes, they either maintained silence or, in despair, blurted out stories about vampires and ended up in a mental hospital. Neither option was merciful for Se-gun. And all this over nothing more than blood on his motorcycle seat!

"When things get tangled, they really get tangled."

Se-gun muttered as he watched Detective Sim crouching in front of the vending machine, pressing buttons to get a cup. After the brawl with the Sang-dong faction, Se-gun, gravely injured, had left his motorcycle behind and sought treatment from a back-alley doctor. Going back to retrieve the bike had been his mistake. Leaving a motorcycle soaked in blood on the street was bound to make people curious about its owner.

And so, foolishly, he had gone to get it back—and ended up being caught by the police.

‘Since the motorcycle is registered anyway, I would’ve been caught sooner or later, right?’

Se-gun sighed. But of all people, he had to run into Detective Sim Gu-jin, the officer in charge of the mass shooting case? Why was such a heinous crime being handled by someone from the juvenile division?

With that question in mind, Se-gun looked at Detective Sim. After taking custody of him from the officers who brought him in, Sim had immediately dragged him into the hallway and gotten coffee first. He held out a steaming paper cup to Se-gun.

"Take it."

"I don’t really drink coffee."

"…You ungrateful little bastard."

“….”

Se-gun shut his mouth at Sim Gu-jin’s profanity and accepted it. Sim gulped down his own coffee in one go, flicked cigarette ash into the paper cup, and then asked Se-gun:

"Testimony from near a PC café on the day of the shooting. They said there was a guy with green-dyed hair. That’s you?"

To someone unaware of the context, the question would seem to come out of nowhere… but Se-gun knew exactly what the detective was asking.

When hunting the Corrupted, Se-gun and Deok-yeon had entered a building and run into someone. If that man had given testimony, Se-gun—with his unusually colored hair—would have stood out.

But he had only been brought in because of blood on his motorcycle. To connect that to the shooting incident… And the way the detective seemed certain even before asking made the situation awkward.

"I wonder?"