Meanwhile, Hyun Woo wasn't at his house.
He was outside, walking slow on the pavement with his head down under the hoodie, eyes glued to his phone while his thumb kept scrolling through the SNS feed.
Post after post kept popping up. Meme after meme filled his screen. The comments started showing up under every meme in seconds, one after another, too fast for anyone to even read them all.
His heart started beating a bit faster with each scroll. He could feel a small rush of excitement inside, but his face didn't show it — calm, like nothing was happening.
People were talking about him — the vigilante who cleaned up the trash on the streets when the law couldn't do anything.
Hyun Woo's thumb kept scrolling through the posts, his eyes moving over most of the comments as he read them one by one.
> [User_77]: This "Underworld Judge" is crazy… but damn, he only kills bastards who deserved it.
> [Noona_fangirl]: OMG!! He's like Batman but scarier!!!
> [Justice4All]: Finally someone doing what the police can't. Respect.
> [LegalEagle]: No, no, no. This is illegal. Vigilantes = criminals. Don't glorify murder.
> [DarkHumorBro]: LMAO did you see the meme? "Judge: Order in the court — also Judge: EXECUTION TIME"
> [Anonymous_ghost]: Above the law…? Or the law itself…?
Then he scrolled to the next post. His eyes stopped.
It was a photo. A weak boy's face pale with tears, bags clutched to his chest. Behind him, Yoo Chan and Oh Sang-gyu grinning wide, throwing hand signs. Other bullies leaning in, waving, laughing like it was all a game.
The caption written under it, posted by some trash account:
> [Street_King97]: Underworld Judge, come if you dare. We're waiting.
Hyun Woo's lips twisted into a smirk. His eyes gleamed under the hood.
"Tch… barking mutts," he muttered. "I almost forgot about you two. Thanks for raising your heads. Thanks for reminding me you're still breathing."
Hyun Woo's smirk spread under the hood, eyes burning golden.
"You dared to call me out… fine. I'll come. And I won't leave a single one of you standing."
From the second-floor window of the station, Choi stood watching the cars disappear into the city.
He didn't move, didn't speak — just kept his eyes on the last set of taillights fading in the distance.
Every police car on the street was moving in a line, one after another, like ants rushing from the same hole.
Their sirens were off, but the sound of engines still filled the road.
People turned their heads as the cars passed, trying to see what was going on.
At every corner, a car turned, another split off, spreading out across the city.
Inside those cars, every officer had the same thing in mind — one name, and one old photo. Park Joon-ho.
The picture showed a man in his twenties, sharp black eyes, clean shave cut, black hair parted both ways, confident looking man.
But that was fifteen years ago.
Now they were looking for a thirty-four-year-old version of him — a middle-aged man who might not even exist anymore.
No one said it out loud, but the same thought spinning in every police officer head. How do you chase someone who's supposed to be dead?
The officers split fast, following the orders Choi had given.
A few cars turned toward the east side of the city, heading for the small house where Park's aunt and uncle used to live.
If he was alive, maybe he'd gone back to the only family he had left.
Others spread through the busier streets — supermarkets, convenience stores, small street marts.
They carried his photo, the one from ten years ago, showing it to cashiers and store owners, asking if anyone had seen a man who looked older now but with the same sharp eyes.
Another team checked laundries and secondhand clothing shops, scrolling through CCTV footage and payment logs.
If he was living quietly, he'd buy small, cheap, and alone.
One group drove toward the west district — a stretch of motels where nobody asked questions.
They started knocking on doors, flipping through guest books, looking for anyone who had paid cash and left within a few days.
At a red light, one officer muttered under his breath,
"Chasing a dead man… can't believe we're doing this."
His partner kept his eyes on the road, voice low.
"If Choi says look, we look. Guy sees things others don't."
He paused, a faint shiver in his tone.
"Those eyes of his… gives me chills every damn time."
The first officer snorted quietly.
"Yeah. Ghost Eyes, huh? Fits him too well."
Hyun Woo was walking down the pavement, hood pulled low, one hands in his pockets, second hand scrolling the SNS feed.
The night was quiet except for the sound of engines somewhere far ahead.
He looked up for a moment — a line of police cars rushed past, one after another, cutting through the road fast enough to vibrate the air around it.
Their headlights flashed over the pavement, short bursts of white light sliding across the walls and faces around him.
Hyun Woo watched the cars rush past, one after another, their light fading down the street.
But then one patrol car slowed near the curb, just for a second — maybe waiting for the next unit to turn ahead.
He didn't look at them directly, just kept walking.
A faint glow flickered in his right eye.
[ Judge Eye — Activated ]
[ Suspicion Detected ]
[ Target: Police Officer — 4 meters left ]
[ Thought Transfer Established … ]
['Tch… Park Joon-ho? That name again?'
'Ten years dead, and his DNA shows up like he never left.'
'What the hell are we even chasing… a ghost?']
The officer on his left side. Hyun Woo heard what he was thinking, clear as if the man had said it out loud.
After hearing the officer's thought, his lips slowly curved into a grin — small at first, then wider.
A soft chuckle slipped out under his breath. He lifted a hand, covering his face to hide it.
He tilted his head down again, the glow fading from his eye.
"…Park Joon-ho, huh?"
His smile didn't fade.
He already knew why they were chasing the dead man, Park.
He couldn't hide the smile building inside his chest.
He wanted to laugh out loud.
To his eyes, those police officers looked like dolls — moving exactly how he wanted them to.