Chapter 13: A Death Too Convenient

The article stated that it appeared to be a suicide, but the moment that word caught her eye, a different thought came to Sooyoung first.

This wasn’t suicide.

It was murder.

“…Those who deny the New Lord, those who do not believe, shall be punished.
Thus speaks the New Lord: O faithless prodigals, be judged by fire and blade and perish eternally.”

A prodigal.

A person corrupted by weak faith, possessed by an evil spirit.

Those who denied cult leader Lee Young-se and Saecheonmyeong were labeled prodigals. By their standards, anyone classified as such was an evil being who deserved to die—and the Coalition of Former Saecheonmyeong Believers fit that definition perfectly.

What if this incident was something Saecheonmyeong had done to dispose of a prodigal?

“Execute the prodigal.”

Back when she was young—ignorant, believing his every word to be truth—she never could have imagined such a thing.

But not anymore.

A man who twisted people’s sincere faith for his own gain.
A man who incited others, claiming himself to be the New Lord descended upon this land.

Lee Young-se.

If it were him, he could commit something like this without the slightest pang of conscience. And naturally, without staining his own hands with blood.

There were always people willing to carry out his orders.

“……”

Her hand clenched tightly around the newspaper.

***

Unlike the Seoul Metropolitan Headquarters, sirens rang especially loud around the police station. Stepping out of the parked car, Si-eon pulled out his phone and made a call.

“Yeah, senior. I just got here.”

Even though he’d passed out drunk, last night’s news was still vivid in his memory. On a hunch, he’d searched it up himself to confirm.

That was exactly why, after finishing his morning work, he’d come to Dongdaemun Station.

Unclosed case files couldn’t be accessed at headquarters. Fortunately, though, there was a senior detective here—someone he’d worked with years ago.

The detective spotted Si-eon exiting the building and waved. As he approached, Si-eon saw a man whose beard had grown thick, like someone who hadn’t been home in days. The man nodded slightly.

Guessing where he was headed, Si-eon fell into step with him.

At the smoking area, the senior pulled a cigarette pack and lighter from his jacket pocket.

“Want one?”

Si-eon took a cigarette and placed it between his lips. The senior flicked the nearly empty disposable lighter a few times before lighting it. After lighting his own, he took a long drag, exhaled, and glanced sideways.

“You’re so busy I can barely see your face, and now you’re the one calling first and coming all the way here. What’s going on?”

Si-eon removed the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers. His low voice drifted with the smoke.

“I had something I wanted to ask about a case.”

“A case? One we both handled?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s see… what case would headquarters be interested in?”

After tapping ash into the tray, Si-eon stated his purpose plainly.

“The suicide found in Jegi-dong yesterday.”

The man’s eyes narrowed briefly, then returned to normal.

“Oh. The one where he slit his wrist with a knife?”

Si-eon nodded lightly.

“Why that? It’s just a suicide.”

“I was curious.”

Rubbing at his tired eyes, the detective messed up his already disheveled hair and sighed.

“Ugh. Reporters have been sniffing around asking if it’s related to Saecheonmyeong or whatever.”

It was the kind of case the media would latch onto—a man connected to a fringe religious group killing himself after the investigation was closed.

But that wasn’t why Si-eon was here.

The cigarette he wasn’t holding slowly burned down.

“Are you really closing it as a suicide?”

The detective inhaled deeply. His hollowed cheeks filled out again as he exhaled, brows knitting.

“You came all the way here first thing in the morning just for that suicide case? You must be bored these days.”

Si-eon smiled faintly and lowered his gaze. After a moment, the detective spoke again, his tone flat.

“It’s a standard suicide. There was a note at the scene. Multiple hesitation cuts on the wrist—like he couldn’t make up his mind. He was drunk right before death, too.”

If someone else had killed him, there would’ve been defensive wounds—not hesitation marks. Si-eon’s eyes narrowed.

“What about footprints or fingerprints?”

The detective’s half-closed eyes snapped open. He stared at Si-eon, raising a finger.

“Wait. Don’t tell me… you think this was murder?”

Si-eon stayed silent.

Realizing what that silence meant, the detective waved his hand emphatically.

“No. Absolutely not. Forensics already processed the scene. Footprints, fingerprints—nothing. Not a single thing.”

At the insistence that there was no room for suspicion, Si-eon pressed his lower lip briefly before letting go.

“Time of death?”

“Not yet exact. Based on the condition, we’re estimating two to three days. He said he was going on a two-night, three-day trip, then stopped answering calls before he was found.”

Si-eon put the cigarette back to his lips, then removed it again, murmuring softly,

“…Then it’ll be closed as a suicide.”

Crushing the shortened cigarette into the ashtray, the detective shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah. Unless something changes. We don’t have the luxury to spend time on cases like this. Closing it quickly is better for everyone.”

Each detective already had too many cases. Minor ones couldn’t be held onto long—especially suicides without clear evidence of foul play.

Si-eon stubbed out the cigarette and pressed his lips together.

“Senior.”

The detective, who had been standing crookedly, looked at him. His brows furrowed deeply as his eyes scanned Si-eon’s face.

“…What is it? Why are you calling me like that? You’re making me nervous.”

Sometimes, Si-eon used his face to get what he wanted. His seniors used to joke and call it the “pretty-boy card.”

“Ah—no.”

Before Si-eon even said anything, the man rejected him outright, but Si-eon grabbed his arm anyway.

“Hey—what now?”

“When’s the scene cleanup scheduled?”

Realizing his intent, the detective shook his head.

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You never just ask! You’re going to go there and—”

Meeting Si-eon’s eyes, the man trailed off and clamped his mouth shut. He raked a hand through his hair again and stared at him like he couldn’t understand.

“The case is basically over. Why would you even go to the scene?”

Planting one leg forward, the detective squinted.

“Ha… you bastard, seriously…”

Knowing Si-eon would find a way once he’d decided, the man sighed heavily and raised a finger.

“If you go in there and do anything weird, you’re dead.”

Si-eon’s lips curved into an easy smile.

“They’re always short-handed during cleanup. I’ll just help out while I’m there.”

Clicking his tongue at the shameless tone, the detective pulled out his phone.

“Next time, you’re getting nothing. I mean it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Only call me ‘sir’ when you need something.”

Grumbling, the man sent an address via message. After checking the text, Si-eon patted his arm.

“I’ll be quiet about it. Don’t worry.”

“…Seriously. You better.”

“Yes.”

As the man turned away, Si-eon let the smile fade from his lips.

Even if nothing had been found at the scene, he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

The timing didn’t sit right for a suicide.
The suspicion—that this might have been murder—refused to leave him alone.