He came out of his office in a rush, his steps fast and kind of uneven, like he couldn't decide if he need to walk or to run.
His shoulders were stiff, his face pale, a bit of sweat rolling down near his temple. His lips stayed pressed tight, like he was holding the breath.
When he came out, a few detectives and officers looked up from their desks. Their hands slowed down a bit from doing their work.
They could tell something was off just by his face — like he'd seen something he couldn't make sense of. But he didn't say a word. He just kept moving.
"Where's the forensic report?!"
His voice cracked a little when he shouted, sounded rough like he had been not rested enough.
He slammed his hand on the side of a desk. "Why isn't it on my table yet?!"
Immediately, every head dropped — even the ones who had been peeking over their desks.
No one said a word to the Chief. They just kept glancing at each other, waiting, like someone might stand up and take the hit for all of them.
One officer pulled open his drawer and flipped through random pages, pretending to look busy.
Another started typing like his life depended on it, the keys clacking too fast to make sense.
In seconds, everyone looked busy — papers moving, files opening — like the whole room suddenly remembered they had important work to do.
The Chief didn't have the patience to sit through that silence.
He slammed the desk again, this time harder — hard enough that even the monitor shook and the keyboard tilted from its position.
A few officers flinched, and the one sitting at the desk where the Chief hit dropped his pen. His heart jumped like someone had crept up behind him wearing a ghost mask and whispered, "Peek-a-boo."
The Chief's voice exploded in everyone's ears like someone had burst a plastic bag right beside them.
"Don't stand like statues! Move! If the Commissioner calls again and I still got nothing… you all know what will happen! None of you will be safe!"
It wasn't just any Commissioner.
The call had come from the National Police Agency itself.
When pressure came from that high, someone was about to lose their badge.
He barked, finger already pointed toward Officer Kim — like always. "Kim! Where's the report of homicide report of Seok and his friends? Get it on my desk before the Commissioner calls again!"
Officer Kim's shoulders jerked up like someone had poured cold water down his back. "Y-Yes, Chief!"
"Kim! Pull the CCTV and phone logs as well, you're Forensic IT, right? Evidence Support's your job — get those drives before I lose my mind!"
Someone muttered from the next desk, just loud enough.
"Thought he was Evidence Support, not Cyber Division…"
"Same thing tonight," another officer said under his breath. "Chief uses him for everything."
But inside the Chief's chest, he knew the truth. It didn't matter how loud or fast they moved, no one had any leads on the case.
Chief suddenly spotted Detective Choi. The moment his eyes landed on him, he moved straight toward him without a pause.
"Detective Choi!" he shouted, voice cracking under pressure. "Any lead? Evidence? Fingerprints? DNA? Anything from the damn forensic team yet?!"
Choi straightened a little, his usual calm face. He opened his mouth to answer — but the Chief didn't even give him a second.
"I just got off the phone with the Commissioner!" he barked again, stepping closer. Spit flew from his mouth with every word. "He's furious! He wants an explanation now! Do you hear me, Choi? Now!"
Choi didn't flinch.
His face stayed the same — calm, unreadable. But his eyes… they moved once, slow, sharp, watching the Chief more than listening.
He could tell the man was panicking. The sweat on his temple, the twitch near his jaw — all of it screamed pressure.
Still, Choi didn't say a word. He just gave a small nod.
"Understood," he said simply, his voice quiet, steady — the total opposite of the Chief's shouting.
But behind that calm, his mind was already turning.
Something about this case didn't sit right with him from the start.
Choi's mind was lost in the past, remembering the files he'd read about them.
He let the Chief shout; it was noise he'd learned to ignore.
Inside his head, pieces were moving — slow, like a hand pushing tiles on a game board.
Kang, Seok, the others. Same school. Same class. Same kind of dirt in their past.
All of them had complaints against them — assaults, blackmail, bullying. The files clearly showed it. Thin police reports, witnesses who dropped their statements, charges that simply vanished.
Every time, it ended the same way: case closed due to lack of evidence.
There was no connection on paper that he could find.
They didn't share any common link except one — they were all from the same school, same class.
To everyone else, it looked like random acts of violence, maybe a serial killing that followed the same pattern.
But to Choi, it felt different.
It was too focused, too deliberate — like someone was settling old debts.
Every detail of the cases in his mind were screamed one thing to him.
Revenge.
"Choi? Choi?"
The Chief's voice snapped him out of it. Fingers waved in front of his face.
"Were you even listening to me?"
Choi blinked once, pulling his focus back. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, even though he hadn't heard a word.
Before the Cheif could even open his mouth to ask the next question.
The forensic expert came running in, almost tripping over his own shoes, clutching a folder so tight the papers inside were crumpled.
His face was pale, sweat running down from his temple as he raised the file high.
"Chief! Detective!" he shouted. "We found something—DNA evidence from the first crime scene!"
The Chief turned fast, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
The forensic expert stopped a few steps away, breathing hard. "The scene with Kang Jin-ho and his friends," he said, trying to steady his voice. "We found DNA on an alcohol bottle near the bloodstain. It doesn't match any of the victims."
The Chief's brow tightened. "Then whose is it?"
The expert hesitated at first but his mouth moved as he swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the Chief and Choi. "That's the thing, sir…" He flipped open the folder with shaky fingers. "It belongs to someone else."
The Chief's tone sharpened. "Stop mumbling and say it clearly."
The forensic expert's voice cracked. "The DNA… it matches a man named Park Joon-ho."
Choi's head tilted slightly. The name didn't click—at least not yet.
The Chief frowned. "Then bring him in! What's the issue?"
The expert's eyes darted down to the report in his hand. "Sir… we can't. He's dead. Park Joon-ho died ten years ago."
For a second, no one said a word. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the ceiling fan.
The Chief blinked, disbelief clear in his face. "What kind of joke is that supposed to be?"
The expert swallowed again, his fingers trembling on the paper. "It's not a joke, sir. The file shows it's a full match—blood type, genome pattern, everything. Registered deceased. Case closed years ago."
The Chief's face went pale. He looked at Choi. "You hearing this?"
Choi just nodded once. He wasn't even listening to what the Chief was saying anymore.
His eyes stayed on the name written in the report.
That name… it felt familiar to Choi, his mind back in past to remembered it.