Into The Thrill

After finishing his investigation and leaving work, Woojin unlocked the door to Haewon’s officetel. The place was sunk in darkness. It was only eleven, but Haewon was already asleep, seemingly exhausted. He was holding his phone in his hand, as if he'd been waiting for a call.
Woojin gently took the phone from Haewon’s hand and unlocked it. The lock screen pattern was simple—so simple that Woojin didn’t even need to steal a glance to know it.
He deleted all the photos Haewon had taken of him. His brows twitched in disgust as he looked at the photos Haewon had snapped while messing up his hair.

He set the phone on the side table and took off his clothes, hanging them in the closet. Some of his clothes were already hanging there, but there wasn’t anything suitable to change into.
Wearing only briefs, he took a quick shower /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ and lay down next to Haewon. Haewon always slept silently, without a sound. Sometimes, Woojin had come while Haewon was asleep and left before he woke up.
From Haewon’s perspective, he may have never even seen Woojin. But except for the time they had been apart, Woojin had never gone more than four days without touching him. Like now.

Woojin slid his hand under Haewon’s pajama top and felt his chest. He placed his palm over the quiet thumping of Haewon’s heart. Haewon didn’t stir, didn’t even seem to notice being touched. There was barely a twitch. Woojin stroked his chest and stomach, savoring the softness and warmth beneath his hand. Touching Moon Haewon gave him a sense of satisfaction.
Haewon breathed in deep, steady sleep. Woojin’s hand moved down into the pajama pants, lightly cupping the space between his legs. He grasped the limp flesh. Even flaccid, it filled his palm more than expected, and Woojin’s lips curled into a smirk.
The hand that had been exploring down below now slid around his waist—a slender but well-toned waistline. Woojin pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him. Only then did Haewon stir and murmur a soft groan.

"…Who is it? Is it you, hyung?"
"…"
This kind of thing irritated Woojin. Who else could it be? He was the only one who came and went from this officetel. He was the only one allowed to touch this body without hesitation. The only one who owned Moon Haewon—mind and body, from the start and forever—was him.

But every time Haewon asked who it was, Woojin felt like he was being lumped in with the rest, like some nameless figure in the background. It disgusted him. Haewon kept treating him like just anyone. Whether it meant brainwashing or behavior correction, he had to fix this habit.
"If not me, who else would come in here?"
"…Hyun Woojin ajeossi."

Oblivious to the weight behind Woojin’s low and sharp tone, Haewon responded in a dreamy, amused voice and rolled over. He buried himself into Woojin’s neck and soon drifted back to sleep.
"Don’t assume I’ll put up with this forever."
"…Hyun Woojin ajeossi."

Woojin pressed his nose into Haewon’s crown, breathing in his scent. He wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him close. Chest to chest, the beat of Haewon’s heart transferred through skin and muscle, reaching Woojin. It was the one thing that made him feel human.
He had another unpleasant dream.
Whenever he was tired and sensitive, he dreamed of her. It wasn’t out of sentimentality. Woojin had never been able to repay Kim Hayeong for the things she gave him freely. And now that she no longer existed in this world, he never could. That lingering debt became the source of his dreams. Just as she’d wished, she had become a lifelong, unpayable credit.
He opened his weary eyes. No need to check the time. It would be 6:05. Maybe 6 on the dot. He didn’t even realize Haewon had been holding him in his sleep until much later.

He sat up. As the warmth of his body left, Haewon grabbed at him as if to protest. Woojin had always hated being clung to—it triggered his violence. But Haewon was the exception. The fact that Haewon clung to him felt like a reward earned through effort, and it satisfied Woojin.
He gently pushed Haewon’s arm back under the covers and stood up. After getting ready for work and adjusting his tie in front of the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Haewon sitting up behind him.
"You’re awake? Go back to sleep. It’s still early."

"I must’ve been tired yesterday. I went to bed early."
Usually, Haewon would sleep until eight or nine, but strangely, today he woke up before 6:30 and headed straight to the bathroom. While Haewon showered, Woojin put on his shoes at the front door. He had to get to the office early—Park Yong-ho was scheduled to stand at the photo line at eight.
"I’m heading out."

"Wait."
Haewon came rushing out. Woojin frowned. If this happened every time he left, it would get exhausting fast. Haewon came up and kissed him on the cheek.
"Eat dinner out. Buy me something good."

"Can’t today."
"On duty again?"
Since Woojin had once lied about being on duty, now Haewon reflexively asked Are you on duty again? every time he said no. Woojin decided it was better to be honest but vague.

"I’ve got plans."
"You’ve got plans every night lately."
"It’s a regular meeting today."

"What kind of meeting? School reunion? Prosecutor’s gathering?"
"Meeting friends."

"I do. A few."
"I don’t have a single one."
Haewon blinked his large eyes. His only friend was dead. The others—those who weren’t friends—were in prison. Lee Taeshin had committed suicide at twenty-nine. Kim Hayeong had also died at twenty-nine. All of them had said they loved Woojin.

Anyone who loved him ended up consumed by something at twenty-nine. Whether intentional or not, Woojin devoured the souls of those who loved him. Haewon now stood before that cursed hunger.
He didn’t want to think of Haewon as another lingering debt. Not yet. It wasn’t full—whatever it was. He didn’t even know what he needed to fill, but right now, he didn’t want to let go. This was just the beginning.
"Don’t bother making friends. After your lesson, don’t go anywhere. Just sleep."

Don’t listen. Don’t look. Don’t do anything. There wasn’t much time left. That’s why he felt so anxious. Woojin genuinely hoped that Haewon’s twenty-ninth year would pass without incident. The fact that he was stressing over this illogical superstition made him feel disgust toward the long-dead Kim Hayeong and Lee Taeshin.
"I’ll call you."
"You’re not coming at night either?"

"We’ll see."
"Buy me a toy."
"I said no."

Woojin kissed Haewon’s cheek, just like Haewon had done, then turned to leave.
[Did you delete the photos? Sorry, I restored them all.]
Haewon was pulling tricks he hadn’t expected. The message came with a photo—his own image, parted hair styled awkwardly. Woojin stared at the phone, face hardening.

There had been no word from the informant tailing Kim Jeong-geun. CEO Kim was sharp about being followed. But Woojin had already set the bait. He’d find out soon—by the end of this week—who Kim was meeting or bringing in.
Park Yong-ho had never been of interest to Woojin. But if a witness showed even a hint of insolence during questioning, he would take it personally. There was nothing logical or rational about it, not even enough dedication in his misdeeds to respect.
Standing at the photo line, Park Yong-ho bowed deeply, expressing his apologies to the public for causing concern and promising to cooperate with the prosecution investigation—empty words he had no intention of keeping. The flashes from dozens of cameras lit up his face. The shutters snapped furiously.

Instead of the investigation room, Park Yong-ho was waiting in the deputy prosecutor’s office. Woojin knocked and opened the door. Called in for questioning, Park Yong-ho sat comfortably opposite Lee Seung-min, sipping jujube tea. The bittersweet scent of honey-soaked dates wafted in the air. Woojin bowed his head politely.
"Ah, so you’re the famous special investigations prosecutor, Hyun Woojin."
"Nice to meet you. I’m Hyun Woojin from the Special Investigation Unit 3."

"I heard the finance team head from the National Business Association gave you a hard time. I apologize for him. He’s not a bad guy, just a little uptight."
Apparently, Park Yong-ho had heard the gist from Lee Seung-min and was trying to soften Woojin up. But Woojin didn’t even pretend to listen—he just stared at the half-finished jujube tea on the table.
"Did you finish your tea?"

"Almost."
"Then let’s head to the interrogation room."
"Why so rushed? He already passed the photo line. Cut me some slack."

Lee Seung-min gestured for Woojin to come sit down as well. He was in no position to be strict with the ruling party’s floor leader. Normally, he played the good cop while Woojin took on the role of the bad cop.
"Let’s go. We’ve got about twenty witness interviews backed up."
"Come on, Chief, isn’t this a bit much? I did my part, didn’t I?"

Apparently, standing quietly at the photo line and enduring public humiliation had been part of the agreement. Lee Seung-min gave Park Yong-ho a soothing glance, urging him to cooperate and even promised to wrap things up quickly.
Woojin seated Park Yong-ho in the interrogation room. To humiliate him, he handed the questioning over to a prosecutor who’d only been on the job for two years. From the observation room, Woojin and Lee Seung-min stood with their arms crossed, looking through the one-way mirror at Park Yong-ho sitting uncomfortably on the other side. Woojin kept his eyes fixed on him as he spoke.
"I heard you met with the ruling party leader yesterday."

"Must be getting messy. Judging from how he talks, more people are involved."
"Then let’s cut the tail off here, with Assemblyman Park."
"You think it’s easy to cut the tail at the floor leader level? That’s exactly the problem."

Woojin glanced sideways at Lee Seung-min, who was grumbling. In the dim light, his already pale complexion looked ashen, like someone with an illness. Woojin turned his gaze back to the one-way mirror.
"If we let this go, there’ll be issues during the audit later. And since the news is already out, civic groups won’t stay quiet. The entire process around the Federation’s founding, budget execution, and operation is a deception of the public. If they find out we stirred things up and then buried it, it’s you who’ll be in a bind later. As for me, I can just report that you told me to drop it."
"Woojin, are you threatening me right now?"

"I’m just presenting a very plausible scenario."
Lee Seung-min, feeling an actual chill from Woojin’s icy demeanor, took a step away from him. He smacked his lips.
"Then stop at Assemblyman Park. Don’t touch anything beyond that."

"I’ll request arrest warrants for Park Yong-ho and all others involved in the embezzlement, and return the remaining budget to the national treasury."
"He didn’t even refuse to appear. He showed up. Isn’t that too much? You think the ruling party’s going to sit back and watch?"
"The offense is serious."

With a groan as if his head was splitting, Lee Seung-min pressed his temples with a clenched fist and left the observation room. Woojin turned to Jung Ho-myung, who was sitting at the video equipment.
"Don’t finish the interrogation before midnight. Don’t give him time to coordinate. As soon as it’s done, cuff him and send him straight to detention."
"Understood."

"Summon the other related parties and bring me the finalized list."
"Yes, sir."
The arrest investigation of Park Yong-ho began to accelerate. In charge of the investigation, Woojin stepped out of the interrogation room after watching Park Yong-ho miserably eat a bowl of seolleongtang.

He headed for Yangpyeong.
The villa that Kim Jung-geun had built halfway up a wooded hill in Yangpyeong was a place rarely used. Occasionally, gatherings or parties were held there. Before that, it was used as a quiet study spot for Kim Ha-young while she was retaking her medical school entrance exams.
Aside from year-end charity fundraising parties hosted by Seo Ok-hwa to help the underprivileged, or social events where Kim Jung-geun mingled with political and business elites, the road was so narrow and inconvenient that even they seldom visited. But after Kim Ha-young hanged herself from the black plum tree at the Yangpyeong villa, it was abandoned entirely.

The black plum tree she hanged herself from had been cut down. Kim Jung-geun, furious, tried to burn it to the roots—even though it alone was worth tens of billions. The charred burn marks still remained vivid on the stump.
Now, Woojin occasionally used it. Choi, the secretary in charge of managing Kim Jung-geun’s Yangpyeong villa, was actually Woojin’s planted man. Everything that happened in the basement of the villa was managed by Secretary Choi. The materials were stacked neatly in Woojin’s personal safe.
The basement of the villa, originally designed as an air-raid shelter during the initial construction, was unknown even to Kim Jung-geun and Seo Ok-hwa. Woojin had made it his own private bunker. To control people, one needed leverage. Woojin provided them with a place where surveillance was impossible.

Several cars were already parked in the villa’s parking lot. As Woojin stepped out of the car, Secretary Choi approached and held up an umbrella for him. It wasn’t snow or rain, but something wet and sticky was falling. The trip had taken at least twenty minutes longer than usual.
"Has everyone arrived?"
"Everyone’s here except for Executive Director Lee from Daewon Group."

"Check if he’s on the way, and once he’s in, lock the doors."
"Yes, sir."
Woojin opened the shabby door that led to the basement at the back of the villa.

After descending the equivalent of two floors, a completely different world spread out before him, decorated like a hotel suite. Kim Jung-geun would never dream that something like this existed beneath his own villa.
Heavy music thudded through the air, mixed with raucous laughter and shouting. The cabinet doors were left ajar, and half-emptied bottles lay scattered across the tables. They’d already had quite a time.
"Prosecutor Hyun, our dear Mr. Hyun is here."

"It’s been a while."
The drunk son of the Prime Minister staggered toward him, draping an arm over his shoulder.
The children of high-ranking officials who ruled the political and business world were the main members. Sharing sins created a powerful bond, and they were all close—practically intimate.

Woojin considered their potential. These were the people who would, one day, occupy the highest places and own the most in the country. If he really wanted to tear them down, there were more than a few threads to pull. But that wasn’t enough to truly control them. Woojin knew from experience—he needed something stronger. A leash to steer them, to make them bark in his direction.
Inside, it was stuffy and humid. Woojin took off his jacket and draped it over the sofa, then poured himself a drink. He took a chunk of ice from the bucket and crunched it between his teeth.
The son of the Chief Justice, who was smoking marijuana, gave him a nod from across the room. His father was the Chief Justice, his mother a law professor, his elders prominent figures in the judiciary. Woojin could honestly say he studied law using books written by that very family.

"You're looking more handsome by the day, Woojin. My sister really wasn’t your type?"
He loved weed. When the high hit, he turned friendly. Smiled easily, dished out compliments like candy.
None of them, except Woojin, knew they were being recorded. They didn’t realize that what was being captured now would, ten or twenty years from now, become the very noose around their necks. They were savoring the present, believing they were all partners in crime, with no hesitation or shame.

They were also the ones who would help Woojin ascend to the place he wanted. Listening to victims’ cries never solved anything. Without power, justice was nothing more than a hollow prayer.
"Who is he?"
Woojin asked the grandson of the biggest loan shark in Myeongdong, a core figure in the underground economy. After tossing back his drink, the man replied with a cynical smirk.

"Some idol, first time I’ve seen him. Is he really an idol though?"
"He’s pretty."
"If a guy’s pretty, how pretty could he be? That bastard always brings boys. Is that his thing? Should I be worried?"

The loan shark’s grandson laughed to himself after joking like that. But even as he laughed, he staggered to his feet and approached the boy tied to the central pole. His wrists were fastened tightly above his head, and his delicate body trembled as he stood on tiptoe, barely holding up his own weight.
The second son of the third-ranked K-One Group was grinding into the idol from behind, grabbing his waist. The loan shark’s grandson cupped the weeping idol’s cheek, stared at him for a while, then, seemingly satisfied, pressed his lips to his and sloppily slipped his tongue in for a kiss.