Chapter 5: The New Team Leader

Seowan stared persistently through the glass window at Jiwon as she returned to her seat.

“Are you that bastard’s lackey?”

“I’ll seriously shoot you, you know?”

“Hand over the bag, you piece of shit!”

She was definitely not an ordinary character.

Facing a strange man—one who was at least a head taller and far bulkier than herself—yet instead of flinching, she charged at him to the very end.

That was hardly a normal reaction.

And those coarse words she spat out with such a pretty face—how brutish, and how recklessly brave they had been.

Careless, reckless, emotional, and on top of that, servile and cowardly.

Exactly the kind of person he couldn’t stand.

The faint curiosity he’d felt upon hearing she was the officially disliked oddball of the Gwangsu Unit instantly lost all meaning.

If she’d truly been a hotheaded fool driven purely by an overflowing sense of justice, charging in without thinking, he might have found her somewhat endearing.

But to think she wasn’t even that—just a fool too busy watching her superiors’ moods to properly defend herself.

The idea that someone like her was the internal whistleblower of that massive incident was downright unbelievable.

Watching Jiwon bow her head thoughtlessly at the passing Jo Youngbae made his brow furrow on its own.

Something like that, seriously.

Bzzz.

Right on cue, his phone vibrated.

The moment he checked the name on the screen, his eyes turned icy cold.

As he slowly closed and opened his eyelids, his irritation was unmistakable.

“Yes.”

— I heard from Sumin. You started work today, didn’t you?

“Yes.”

— Seoul Metropolitan Police, Gwangsu Unit, Violent Crimes Task Force team leader?

“Yes.”

From the other end of the line came a sigh, heavy with disbelief.

— After spending all that money studying abroad, you end up in a place like that.

“It wasn’t your money, Chief Prosecutor. It was the nation’s money, so you don’t need to worry.”

— Why do I always have to hear news about you through Sumin? You know your mother worries about you. If you came back to Korea, say you did. If you started work, say you did. Would making one phone call to your parents break your fingers?

“We’re not exactly on warm terms where I’d call first. It’d just sour both our moods. Get to the point. I’m busy.”

— Clear one evening this week. Since it’s come to this, I’ll invite your Commissioner and have a meal together.

“You two should just enjoy yourselves. I don’t think there’s room for me there.”

— Of course there is. It’s a 자리 I’m making because of you.

“Why? Planning to ask the Commissioner for favors on my behalf?”

— And why wouldn’t I? My son—my son, Cha Jinseok’s son—has inherited abilities far beyond his station, and instead of using them properly, he’s chasing after trash that’s not even worth the dirt under their nails. How am I supposed to just sit back and watch without going crazy?

“Then don’t just watch—help. From what I hear, the warrant approval rate for the task force has been pretty abysmal lately. What do you think? Would it improve if I asked the Chief Prosecutor for a favor?”

— What?

At Seowan’s sarcastic tone, Cha Jinseok’s voice—barely holding onto its composure—began to rise.

— How long are you going to keep walking this crooked path? I’ve tolerated this since you were twenty. Isn’t it about time you came to your senses?

“Yeah. I thought you’d give up first around now. You’re surprisingly persistent.”

— You ungrateful bastard!

“I’ve got a work call coming in. Seems like there’s nothing else you need, so I’ll hang up.”

He pressed the end-call button without hesitation.

Tossing his phone onto the desk, Seowan picked up the ringing internal line and brought it to his ear.

“Yes. This is Cha Seowan.”

— Team Leader, this is the Intelligence Division. We’re calling to let you know that your KICS¹ access authorization has been fully granted. You can start work immediately. Could you check to see if everything’s in order? If there’s any issue, please contact us.

“Alright. I’ll check.”

After hanging up, Seowan immediately picked up his work tablet and logged into the system.

As he carefully verified that every necessary permission had been properly assigned, his hand stopped over the full organizational chart of the task force.

Almost unconsciously, he tapped one particularly noticeable ID photo.

A personnel record window popped up.

Name: Song Jiwon.

Age: 29.

Service history: Seodaemun Station Traffic Division, Seodaemun Station Violent Crimes Unit, Gwangsu Unit Semi-Major Crimes Team, and currently—Violent Crimes Task Force Team 3.

Just as expected, nothing particularly remarkable.

So he thought, skimming downward—

until one unusual entry caught his eye.

20XX — Selected as a member of the National Taekwondo Team.

Seowan glanced down at his own shin, which still throbbed faintly from the solid kick he’d taken from Jiwon the night before.

So that was why she’d attacked him so fearlessly.

Some kind of pride from being a former athlete, perhaps.

But that wasn’t the only strange thing.

Her background as a Police University graduate was equally odd.

With skills good enough to make the national team, she could’ve entered through a special recruitment track without any trouble.

So why go through the trouble of applying to the Police University?

It was a résumé utterly devoid of efficiency in achieving one’s goals.

He scrolled back up lazily.

Then, suddenly, his finger stopped on Jiwon’s face.

Whatever she was so happy about, she was grinning brightly, her lips pulled high in a carefree smile.

It was frankly absurd.

Who on earth submitted an appointment photo this unfocused?

“Tsk.”

Muttering as if he couldn’t understand her at all, Seowan closed the pop-up window.

As his unnecessary thoughts cut off, Song Jiwon’s brightly smiling face disappeared completely from the screen.

The atmosphere around the large table where Team 3 sat was strange.

Filling the long-vacant team leader position should’ve been good news—

but the fact that the new team leader was Cha Seowan left them deeply conflicted.

Was this something to celebrate, or something to worry about?

It was hard to say.

“At least now we might finally get a real case.”

“I was getting sick of only picking up scraps tossed over from other teams.”

Breaking the silence, Minjeong forced a note of optimism into her voice.

“Exactly. At least we won’t be openly ignored like before.”

As Taeo agreed, Jaehong clicked his tongue.

“Good grief. You idiots only see one side of things.”

“Is it better to be blatantly ostracized while having your cases stolen, or quietly sidelined while still doing the work?”

“Well, isn’t it basically the same either way?”

“We’re treated like a headache no matter what.”

“At least it’s nice to have some solid backing, right?”

“A superintendent-level team leader—who’d dare mess with us?”

“Don’t you think so, Captain?”

Minjeong protested with wide eyes.

Jaehong was about to snap back—

when the door burst open.

Cha Seowan appeared.

Everyone who had been seated scrambled to their feet at once.

Without properly meeting anyone’s eyes, Seowan went straight to the empty seat at the head of the table.

He tapped the tablet he’d brought with him.

An overview report summarizing all of the task force’s work filled the screen.

What would he say?

Like prisoners awaiting judgment, all eyes were fixed on his mouth.

“So.”

“Even without a team leader, you’ve really been treated like leftovers.”

Of course.

As those experiencing Cha Seowan for the first time struggled to hide their confusion, only Jiwon slowly closed and opened her eyes, as if she’d expected nothing less.

“No independent cases for months—just support work piled high.”

“Your overtime hours rival other teams, but not a single standalone report.”

“That means you worked yourselves to death without building any record.”

“Looks like you cooked the rice just to feed the dog.”

After scanning the screen, he fixed his gaze on Squad Leader Hwang, who sat closest.

Caught off guard by the man’s unfiltered bluntness, Hwang flinched—but soon steadied himself and spoke.

“I’m sure you’re already aware, Team Leader, but there were a lot of complicated circumstances.”

“My lack of ability caused the team a great deal of trouble.”

How was that the Captain’s fault?

Jiwon bit her lip, feeling inexplicably wronged.

Whether he’d sensed that bitterness or not, Seowan showed no reaction.

He simply flipped the tablet screen and continued.

“We’ll need to reorganize task assignments.”

“Any cases dumped on you by Teams 1 and 2—wrap them up today and return them.”

“Unless I specifically instruct otherwise, we will not support other teams’ work.”

Watching the room cautiously, Choi Jaehong spoke up.

“Then does that mean we’ll finally get independent cases—”

“We’ll start with the juvenile prostitution brokerage case sent over from Seocho Station yesterday afternoon.”

Given the jurisdiction, it would’ve gone to Team 2 if left alone.

Surprise and excitement spread across their faces.

“Detectives Choi Jaehong and Kang Taeo—meet the victim and secure a statement.”

“Detective Jo Minjeong—trace the vehicle movements using the number obtained during the initial report.”

“Captain Hwang, since your leg isn’t in good condition, support Detective Jo from inside.”

“Yes, sir.”

After issuing the brief orders, Seowan turned off the tablet and rose casually to his feet.

Jiwon, who had been waiting for her own assignment, widened her eyes.

‘Me?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

Her heart sank at the thought that maybe he intended to exclude her because of what happened yesterday.

“Um—Team Leader, I—”

“Inspector Song Jiwon will move with me.”

“……”

“Underground parking lot. Ten minutes.”

What was that supposed to mean…?

Frozen in place, Jiwon could only stare blankly at his neat retreating figure as he disappeared, leaving behind words she couldn’t believe.