IMTS 12

Chapter 12

Through the in-ear, Chamkkae’s urgent voice came through.

[What the… Are you crazy? If you need help, why did you turn off the comms?]

Yushin couldn’t find a proper answer to Chamkkae’s question.

“Saying ‘Meerkat is asleep’ wouldn’t really fit the situation,” he thought, so he had to sidestep the topic.

“Don’t worry about it.”

[Nothing wrong, right?]

“Yeah. Right now, more importantly—”

Yushin’s gaze, sweeping across the room, landed on a neatly stacked pile of promotional items.

“Our bugger got tapped.”

As he moved to check the trash can, his hand picked up an empty energy drink bottle.

“Looks like Meerkat drank it. Think we’d hear anything if we eavesdropped now?”

[Wait, why would Meerkat drink that? If he actually did… it should be broken, right? Uh, no. If he just drank it, maybe you could hear his heartbeat.]

“Really?”

Yushin turned the bottle to check the serial number.

“Channel 41. Connect me.”

[Who the hell is Meerkat anyway?]

“Who else? A cop from the central precinct. I had him in my room to keep him from snooping around the hospital, and he got up to the cutest little antics.”

Yushin leaned back on the sofa, pushing the in-ear deeper into his ear.

On the channel Chamkkae connected him to, Cheong-a’s heartbeat pounded rapidly.

A dark hallway.

Cheong-a’s steps were hurried, heading in the exact opposite direction from where Yushin had just walked.

Cold sweat ran down her body. She couldn’t remember what state of mind had led her to run out of Yushin’s lab.

She sprinted up the stairs and crumpled into the janitors’ break room.

Squatting in a hidden corner inside the cabinet, she covered her mouth with her hands, catching her breath and letting out a heavy sigh.

“You’re crazy, Kim Cheong-a. Totally insane…”

Cheong-a slapped her own cheek.

The image of Min Yushin’s naked body she had just seen kept flickering in her mind.

No, wait.

Why were my eyes even open? Am I losing it?

‘Do I… have a voyeuristic streak?’

She pressed her forehead and stared at the floor, trying to make excuses to herself.

“Ah… right. That’s it. The Cheonghwa gang’s officers have tattoos. They hide secret marks… Yeah, that’s why I saw it, right?”

But what overwhelmed her next was self-loathing.

No matter what excuse she made, the truth was she had peeked out of curiosity at those solid lats and pecs.

And the shame was magnified by the memory of fleeing after saying nonsense in front of Yushin.

“Why did I even do that? I’m ruined.”

She pounded her fists against the wall.

“Damn it! Idiot! Why is his body so perfect for no reason? Oh no, this is bad.”

Her heart raced mercilessly, teasing her despite her urge to cry.

Cheong-a stayed awake the entire night.

It wasn’t until she received a message from In-gyu saying he had arrived at the hospital’s back gate that she could finally drag herself out of the break room.

The sun was warm, and the breeze was refreshing, but shadows clung heavily to her face.

She looked pale, having not slept a wink.

Across the two-lane road in front of the back gate was Seong-min’s car.

“Hey there.”

Seong-min, leaning against the car and smoking, waved. Cheong-a let out a long sigh and bowed in acknowledgment.

Then the driver’s side door flung open—In-gyu rushed out. He crossed the street quickly and handed her a large paper bag.

Inside were pink heart-printed socks, a phone charger, several plasters, and some snacks.

“Ah, what the… I don’t need socks.”

“These are 100% cotton. If you wear weird nylon socks, you’ll get athlete’s foot. Like Seong-min.”

“…Thanks, I’m about to cry.”

In-gyu, chuckling at Cheong-a’s scrunched-up brow, handed her the work log he had tucked under his arm.

“You missed a few days, so your logs piled up.”

“Can’t you write some of this for me? I’m completely exhausted, body and mind, hyung.”

Cheong-a took the log with a sigh. But the moment she did, a strange texture of an envelope tucked underneath caught her fingertips. In-gyu responded casually.

“What’s it? Officer Yeon-hee from headquarters contacted me. She said to give it to you without anyone knowing. Didn’t even tell Seong-min.”

Cheong-a nodded without answering, quickly jotting down in the log.

She slid the envelope hidden behind the log into her pocket.

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Watching Cheong-a bury her head in the log, In-gyu awkwardly fiddled with his ear.

“Hey… even looking at that, I still don’t get it. Does it really need to be a secret?”

“Guess Yeon-hee wanted to confess something secretly to you.”

“…”

Clatter.

The fingertips that had held the aluminum blinds fell. Yushin crossed his arms, recalling the faces he had witnessed through the window.

‘Oh, Seong-min and Park In-gyu…’

The internal data of the Incheon Central Police Department’s Violent Crimes Team 2, which Chamkkae had passed him days ago, overlapped in his mind.

The people in the montage looked exactly like those meeting Kim Cheong-a. Yushin sneered at the sight.

“Hmm… Did they bring the whole violent crimes team?”

He spun around back to his desk, leaning in his chair with his eyes closed, replaying what he had seen.

Kim Cheong-a, diligently writing something with her head bowed—probably her work log she had postponed for days after staying late at the hospital.

Her quick hand slipping something into her pocket after receiving it from Park In-gyu. Park In-gyu, fiddling nervously with his ear as he watched.

Yushin downed the cold coffee remaining in the cup in one gulp, crunching as if chewing.

“It’s a problem if the Central Police operatives start moving this seriously…”

He picked up the phone and immediately called Doksah.

At that moment, Cheong-a clutched her pounding heart as she crossed the hospital lobby.

Receiving a secret message from Yeon-hee was the first such thing since the drug investigation task force had been disbanded. Her pulse raced, adrenaline surged, and her head spun.

But there was no one to peek at. No reason to let anyone see she was nervous.

She walked as if nothing was wrong.

The destination was a corner in the 5th-floor men’s restroom, a section used as a cleaning supplies closet.

She had chosen the safest place to examine the note and chuckled quietly to herself.

‘I guess even my soul became a janitor…’

Could a restroom ever feel this cozy?

Cheong-a dragged the cleaning supply cabinet over and sat on it.

She took the note from her pocket and, to prevent anyone else from entering, propped the door with her toes.

. .-. . .–. ..- .- -. Haven’t had snakehead fish since the 5th. Two mask packs left. .-. .– .- -.. … .- -. 4 is the blue bird. . – .- -. .-. -. -.. -.– Pink box 8. -. .- .. …. … 7 twins -.. –.- .- .. —

‘It’s been a while.’

As In-gyu said, it was a difficult-to-understand note. Squinting, Cheong-a glanced at it.

This was the code system she and Yeon-hee had developed during the old drug investigation task force.

At first glance, just numbers, meaningless words, and strange Morse code. But Cheong-a could interpret it perfectly.

Today was the 18th, Friday.

Then the number 5 meant there was a watcher. If “snakehead fish” was added, it meant they couldn’t identify who it was.

Cheong-a’s expression hardened as she followed the coded note.

‘What… I’ve been eavesdropped on?’

She anxiously checked the next message.

‘Contact quickly. Not on your personal phone? Hmmm.’

At first, the code was half a joke between Cheong-a and Yeon-hee.

But as joint investigations deepened, the amount of secret information grew. Their code became increasingly elaborate.