Chapter 1: No One Saw Anything

Twelve years ago, Seoul.

“You little bastard.”

The man stopped after spitting out those words, rubbing the stiff nape of his neck. Instead of continuing, he cast a look of pure contempt at the son kneeling at his feet.

The boy’s appearance alone proved the accident. His wet hair clung messily to his swollen cheeks, and his right hand—treated for a burn—was wrapped thickly in bandages.

The man’s face twisted as he stared at the bandaged hand. Causing an accident was bad enough, but going to a hospital for treatment afterward—unbelievable. It was a relief that the hospital hadn’t immediately linked him to a facility or the police.

He spoke each word like he was grinding it between his teeth.

“My election is around the corner, and you pull this kind of shit.”

When he shifted his gaze, it met the trembling eyes of a shabby-looking man across from him—Park Jong-woo, a hometown friend and the chauffeur assigned to watch the boy. At the man’s call of “Park,” the driver gave a servile smile.

“I—I told you, I handled everything cleanly. No CCTVs nearby, and no parked cars with dashcams. As soon as I got there, I checked every inch of the scene.”

“Checked?” the man barked. “You can’t even keep one brat under control and let this happen?”

The election was only a month away. He had sacrificed piece after piece of himself to get this far. Every day had been a battle, but victory was finally within reach—close enough to touch. He had never doubted that.

Until about an hour ago.

Until Park Jong-woo’s sudden phone call threatened to drag his political career straight into the mud.

Hands shaking with fury, he ripped off his campaign jacket and roared,

“A snot-nosed kid dares to insist on driving—!”

Whack—

The damp, dirt-stained campaign jacket struck the boy’s youthful face before falling to the floor. The man raised his hand again without the slightest hint of mercy. Just then, the boy—who had been curled in on himself—managed to force out a weak voice.

“I–It was an accident.”

“An accident?”

The boy frantically nodded. Then, swaying as if he might faint, he struggled to his feet. Water dripped from his soaked pants hem—inevitable, since he had become drenched while helping gather the body right after the accident. Outside the window, rain continued to pour without rest.

With a panicked expression, the boy rambled on, sounding more like he was pleading for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Father. I’m really sorry. B-But nobody saw. I swear.”

He clutched his head with both hands, trying to untangle the chaotic memories of the night. As he chased them back, the horrifying truth resurfaced.

Driving. Slick roads. The crash. And…

‘P-Please… help… me… please….’

That voice begging him desperately. The blood-soaked school uniform. The yellow student ID card. As the fragments of the accident surfaced again, the boy’s head drooped. His muddy sneakers scraped backward as he instinctively retreated from the man in front of him.

He murmured, half laughing, half crying, his face twisted.

“No one saw. No one saw….”

If nothing else, he was certain of that. No one had seen. Absolutely no one.

He nodded again—this time with conviction.

“They didn’t see. No one saw anything.”

Not the accident site.

Not the girl who had been dying right in front of him.

That same moment, Haeyoung Hospital morgue.

Despite the late-hour death notice, mourners flooded the funeral hall. The sudden accident cast an even deeper gloom over the place. People watched the young boy standing in for his unconscious mother and could hardly contain their sorrow.

Voices—thick with tears—floated toward the child in mourning clothes.

“They still haven’t found his sister. What a nightmare…”

“His father was such a good man too…”

The father and daughter had died together, yet the girl’s body was still missing. Since it hadn’t been found, there was technically a chance she might still be alive—but most believed the opposite. A colleague who rushed to the accident scene found no witnesses, no evidence. Nothing.

Gyeongheon silently stared at the photograph.

Smiling gently among white chrysanthemums was his father. Someone he would never see again.

It was impossible to believe. His father was gone. His younger sister’s body was missing. His face contorted, unable to process it all. Death was far too heavy a thing for a seventeen-year-old to endure.

When he collapsed into his seat, fresh wailing rose from the small room where his mother had just regained consciousness only to break down again. Then—

“Gyeongheon.”

A familiar face appeared before him. Detective Kim Cheol-deuk—his father’s long-time colleague from the same police station. Kneeling slightly, he spoke quietly.

“Let’s talk outside for a moment.”

They walked out to an empty bench. The downpour had finally stopped, the night sky thinning into a gray dawn that washed over their faces. Kim looked at the boy beside him. In the bluish light, the boy’s expression was like glass on the verge of shattering.

“You heard already… We haven’t found any evidence yet.”

The accident scene was a complete blind spot. The weather had washed away everything—even the blood traces. Kim’s heart was heavy with frustration and grief.

But he had no intention of giving up. Not even if it took decades. Not when his junior officer had died unjustly.

He placed a large, rough hand over the boy’s pale one. His deep voice carried a vow.

“But we’ll find her. And we’ll catch him. So even if it hurts and feels unfair, hold on a little longer. I’ll get the bastard.”

His thick fingers intertwined with the boy’s trembling ones. Slowly, Gyeongheon raised his head.

His lips—pressed tight to hold back tears—finally parted.

“I miss my dad.”

“Gyeongheon…”

“…And my sister.”

He closed his reddened eyes briefly before whispering,

“We’ll find them, right? No—we will.”

Death was still too much for a seventeen-year-old to handle. Missing them hurt, but facing the absence hurt even more. Overnight, tragedy had overturned his life entirely. There was no undoing it.

Struggling to breathe, he spoke again.

“No matter how long it takes, I’ll find them.”

Ripples formed again on the puddle at their feet as the rain resumed. People who had stepped outside hurried back into the hospital. Kim removed his jacket and draped it over the boy’s shoulders.

“Yes. We’ll find them. I promise.”

At that, Gyeongheon looked up, eyes bloodshot. He returned the jacket to Kim and rose to his feet.

His hands were still clenched tightly as he said quietly,

“I will too. I’ll find them.”

“Gyeongheon…”

In the darkened surroundings, Kim looked at him. His jaw tightened, then eased—reminding him painfully of the colleague he had just lost. When something needed to be done, his junior had worn that same expression.

Unaware of this, the boy voiced his determination once more.

“They’re my family.”