Chapter 26: Sixteen Days to Leave

D-16

[We’ll arrive within two minutes.

What’s the situation?]

[Smoke is rising from the third floor now, and flames are visible outside the window.

There was one sound like something exploding.]

[Yes, understood.]

It was rush hour, the roads clogged with people heading home.

Sirens blaring urgency scattered across the road.

Several pump trucks passed between cars that had pulled over to one side, gradually and obliquely opening a narrow path on both sides.

For urban fires, response time was always the issue.

Even though fire safety laws had been strengthened and more people had received disaster prevention training, fire was not something humans could control at will.

I wonder if Prometheus, who gave fire to mankind—whose name means ‘forethinker’—also foresaw such disasters?

For some, it was the moment when everything they had built over a lifetime turned to ash, but for others, it was just a night where the noisy sirens were annoying enough to make them frown.

***

The gaze examining the display cabinet, which had barely kept its frame, was dry.

Even a face checking the finishing of a newly remodeled interior would have been more expressive.

“Chief So.”

Mu-yun turned around.

Despite having an aged but still youthful face, the dry expression on the face of the man who approached gave off a heavy, acrid atmosphere.

Meeting that cool, scraping gaze, the detective forced a smile.

“Find anything?”

“No.”

Chief So Mu-yun, answering curtly, stared at the fire suppression water sloshing around his ankles.

“As the fire investigator said, it seems to be a fire caused by negligence.

Given the location of the point of origin, initial ignition occurred here, spreading along the curtains and sofa from top to bottom.

Considering the number of plugged-in cords, a short circuit at the outlet is the most likely cause.”

The outlet had been screwed loosely into a hole drilled in a non-standard location to secure it to the wall, and appliances far exceeding the specifications had been plugged in, causing an overload.

As the detective exhaled deeply, his mask shifted.

The smell of soot penetrating the dust mask was terrible.

“They said there was no flammable substance reaction in the gas sampler.

Did you see the body?”

“Yeah.”

The detective looked at Mu-yun and relayed the features remaining on the body.

“No wash lines, no signs of vitality, no burns to the eyes.”

That meant the fire had started after death.

“And it seems the hospital prescribed nitroglycerin sublingual tablets about three months ago.

At the time of discovery, the head was facing the master bedroom, and the medication bottle was found there along with him.”

Mu-yun’s gaze turned toward where the body had first been discovered.

“Angina medication?”

“Meaning there’s a possibility the cause of death was a heart attack, that sort of thing.”

The detective sighed again.

Mu-yun straightened up and flicked his fingertips.

“They said they’d collect residues from the scene and do a component analysis, so we’ll withdraw now.”

If it was a fire investigation, not an arson investigation, it wasn’t their responsibility.

Even though a body had been found at the fire scene and they had come out to investigate.

The detective looked at Mu-yun and let out a short sigh.

“You’re so good at this, Chief So, why don’t you handle it?”

Mu-yun looked at the detective with indifferent eyes that betrayed no emotion.

“Why?”

The detective shrugged.

“I mean, our Chief So, who loves working like an ox, plowing through cases, seems to always push off incidents that happen around this time.”

It was a teasing, grumbling tone.

Even though the fire wasn’t directly related to the deceased, it was something they could have handled on their end.

“You know why.”

Mu-yun shrugged nonchalantly.

“I hate the smell of fire.”

He rarely frowned.

Emotion showed on his usually impassive face—a face so inscrutable one wondered what he was even thinking—and even such a small grimace made it instantly clear just how much he really hated it.

“It leaves nothing behind.

No evidence.

No people.

I really hate that about fire incidents.”

The detective looked around roughly and nodded.

He also disliked investigating fire scenes for similar reasons.

Though not to the point of hating it.

He wondered if there was anyone who actually liked a place charred black after a fire had swept through.

All the evidence was destroyed by the heat and by people, making scene analysis difficult, and trying to do anything about it was an enormous hassle.

Still, a question remained.

“But for someone who hates it that much, you show up at fire scenes pretty faithfully.”

Mu-yun stared at the soot-stained wall.

“Because there’s something I’m looking for.”

***

Returning to the police station, Mu-yun tidied his desk.

Unlike other desks usually cluttered with reports, related materials, and books, his desk was excessively clean.

It looked like it wouldn’t be strange if the desk itself was removed.

“So Mu-yun.

Come in.”

Mu-yun bowed his head toward his superior who called him.

Meeting a face that looked like it had much to say but wouldn’t say it, he let out a short sigh.

As soon as he entered the separate office, a loud voice erupted.

“You bastard!

Are you really going to do this?”

Mu-yun silently kept his composure.

His pale face grew even paler under the sickly fluorescent light.

After venting for a long while, his superior’s gaze was not kind.

“What the hell is the problem!

Why did you write a resignation letter?”

“…Because I want to rest.”

Mu-yun answered, mumbling in a slightly tired voice.

His superior’s eyebrows twitched.

“Hey!

You really―!”

“I haven’t taken any vacation in ten years, so I thought I’d take them all at once.”

“It’s not like you never had days off…”

Song Hee-il, who had started to say something, choked up and swallowed his breath.

He knew well that Mu-yun never really rested even when he had days off.

“You went to a fire scene today, didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

Mu-yun nodded.

Song Hee-il looked at the Mu-yun of today, recalling the fresh-faced, shiny, dark-haired rookie officer from ten years ago.

The young, green rookie, soft as a tender shoot, was gone.

In his place stood a completely desiccated human being who let everything external just pass him by.

Knowing the process that led to this, Song Hee-il swallowed bitter breath.

“You, just take a vacation.

We’ll talk about the resignation later.”

Even if he did that, it probably wouldn’t change much, but knowing what he was worried about, Mu-yun finally nodded after a long moment.

“Not this month.

If you want to quit, wait until at least next month.”

Song Hee-il said firmly.

“Got it?”

“Yes.”

At least the answer came out readily.

“Get out.”

“Yes.”

Those guarding Team 3’s desks lifted their heads slightly, then immediately lowered them again.

Mu-yun distributed new cases to his team members, organized them, and received status reports.

After finishing the meeting, he glanced at the small desk calendar on his desk.

February had ended, March had come, and soon April would arrive.

And he planned to leave this position before then.

***

Mu-yun carefully opened the apartment’s front door.

Looking into the quiet house, which seemed empty, he spoke.

“Kkammi.”

The dog, whose sleep had increased so much he seemed to spend about twenty hours a day sleeping, was resting not far from the entrance.

He lifted his head.

Mu-yun took off his shoes, approached, and sat down in front of him.

“Did you sleep well?”

He reached out, gently stroked Kkammi’s cheeks and forehead, and quickly checked his food and water bowls.

After refusing walks and food for days, making people’s hearts sink, today the bowls were completely empty.

He had hired a walking helper service that specialized in senior dogs, and it seemed Kkammi liked them better than expected.

“You ate well, full belly.”

Not sparing praise for a job well done, he stroked Kkammi’s body.

The reaction was somewhat indifferent, as if quite annoyed, but still, his tail wagged.

Only after checking Kkammi’s condition did Mu-yun take off his coat.

Then he walked around the house, cleaning.

After sweeping and wiping everything from the floor to the shelves, he stood in front of the refrigerator.

Among the few notes stuck there was one left by the walk helper.

[Today, Kkammi enjoyed a walk with friends for the first time in a while.

Afterwards, I massaged him without straining his joints.

Kkammi’s father watched over him, and please contact me anytime if he experiences any pain.]

Lately, even when asked to go for a walk, Kkammi would just lie on the floor and refuse to budge.

It seemed he had gotten quite friendly with dogs his age.

Mu-yun looked at Kkammi with a proud face and smiled.

“Did you have fun with your friends today?”

Kkammi was still lying down without even looking back, but seeing his ears perk up, Mu-yun chuckled softly.

Only after finishing all the small tasks was he finally given time to breathe.

He had to go back to work after getting three or four hours of sleep, but instead of going to the bedroom, he plopped down on the living room sofa.

The sound of opening a beer can he had taken from the refrigerator rang out loudly.

Kkammi lifted his head, but as if familiar with it, he lowered his head again and tried to sleep.

On an empty stomach, having not even eaten dinner properly, Mu-yun downed the beer.

His gaze, surveying the living room which looked even emptier with only minimal furniture, stopped at one spot.

It was the only thing attached to the wall of this house, which didn’t even have a television installed.

It was a large, old map, crudely pieced together.

On the aged map, which still seemed to reek of smoke, was a memo note with tape layered over it several times.

Jeongpyeong City, Seoheung 3-dong.

‘Why that face?’

The owner of the neat handwriting had spoken to him again today.

‘Just because.’

He swallowed the words that had indifferently risen to the tip of his tongue.

Like indigestion from words swallowed and swallowed again, even after ten years, the tightness in his chest never eased.

He wanted to say, just once, that he had looked for traces the bastard left at the scene today, but it wasn’t there this time either, that even in all the materials accumulated over seven years, the bastard was nowhere to be found.

That nowhere among the tall piles of paper next to the materials they had built together, running around on their own feet, was there the bastard who killed you.

Mu-yun twitched his lips and swallowed more beer.

His eyes, looking at the map he knew better than the back of his hand now, slowly sank.

A whistling sound came from somewhere.

Even knowing it was a sound others couldn’t hear, Mu-yun looked toward the window.

Then, smiling bitterly, he scrunched up his face with his palm.

Memories rush into the hollow hole in his heart, a hole so old he sometimes forgets it, and the sound whistles again, as if telling him not to forget himself.

Mu-yun, feeling like he wouldn’t be able to sleep again today, carefully approached Kkammi and lay down beside him.

Kkammi lifted his head as if annoyed, sniffed at Mu-yun’s chest, then burrowed into his embrace, curled his body into a ball, and closed his eyes again.

Only by leaning on the thump-thump of Kkammi’s heartbeat could Mu-yun finally, with difficulty, attempt to fall asleep.

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