Chapter Text
Si-Mok was never made aware Dong-Jae's fear of the dark - this new piece of information became a commonplace rumor in Uijeongbu's Prosecuting Offices first: slowly making its rounds through word of mouth, like little games of SNS Telephone, eventually reaching Wonju and Si-Mok's investigator who, although devoted a majority of his time to Si-Mok's work affairs, was not above trading gossip in his spare time.
"Poor thing," his secretary muses over a morning coffee as the assisting officer shuffles in with a yawn, "it's only been a few months since the kidnapping. I still remember it all over the news."
"Prosecutor Seo? What about him?" The assisting officer wanders over, suitcase propped up against the legs of her work-desk.
"Check your messages," comes a lofty reply, and soon after directed at Si-Mok, "Was he alright?"
"What?" Si-Mok raises his head.
"Was Prosecutor Seo alright, after he left the hospital? Did you speak with him?"
"I don't know." Si-Mok replies. "I was transferred immediately, so I left."
Was he supposed to offer words of reassurance? Si-Mok doesn't know; there had been too much to deal with the following week after Dong-Jae had been released, and his recovery had barely crossed his mind until Yeo-Jin mentioned it in passing the night he had finished packing. She chose to visit him because that was the sort of person she was - on that same night, Si-Mok had filed away some very dated cases before closing office and idled on his patio while he still had the chance.
"No offence to you sir, but you should have visited him," his investigator chides. "he might have wanted to give his thanks."
"No," Si-Mok shakes his head, though not unkindly. "I don't think so."
Seo Dong-Jae strides into his office a week later, and it's not quite downhill from there. For one, he averts his eyes; he's polite and seemingly upstanding, curt and concise. There are no jabs about his position in so remote a location, nor does Dong-Jae assume their one-sided partnership re-invoked through sheer face-to-face interaction.
With an unnamed emotion bubbling inside his chest, Si-Mok thinks curiously that Dong-Jae would have at least tried to lure him into a discussion.
"What are you here for?" he asks, as if this were the first time they had ever spoken.
"Ah," Dong-Jae passes him a notice, the familiar sharpness of his smile now in view as he leans forward. "I've been asked to monitor a case under your supervision. I'll be working here for the next few weeks."
"You have everything you need?"
"Yes," Dong-Jae tilts his head. "That's all. I'll see you around."
He leaves, and Si-Mok stares blankly into his computer monitor for a few minutes, trying to fill in the emptiness their conversation left behind.
**
Their interactions throughout the following weeks maintain a similar level of distance. Seo Dong-Jae is sharply dressed and honed in on every detail of the case, which Si-Mok is more than appreciative of. He bumps into him once, at the cafeteria, and Dong-Jae smiles without much thought, moving with the current of food-trays and community chatter. Si-Mok, in the deafening silence of his own thoughts, pulls blank after blank out of his head, a lone anchor in the sea of movement.
"He is ignoring me," he says one day, out of complete spontaneity. Though obvious, saying this solidifies it as truth.
"That's the first thing you've said all day, sir," his assisting officer replies. "who?"
On the 26th of July, Wonju undergoes a complete power outage.
Dong-Jae strides into Si-Mok's office, in his hand a slew of cell-phone records circled and starred, when it happens. The dying noise of a mini-fridge goes off in the break room next door, the lights mewl as they blink out, and Si-Mok looks up with mild disinterest only slightly perturbed by the fact that he'll need a flashlight if he's going to have to compare their findings. It's later than usual, the hour hand crawling towards 9, and the room is enveloped in a rush of black noise. Bright spots where the lights once were dot his hazy night vision. The strips of yellow-gold in the distance shutter away with every beat of silence, and only the night remains.
"Did you bring your phone?" Si-Mok asks to the swathe of shadow.
"Of course I did." A hurried movement answers, and a spot of blue light glows on his shoe.
"Here's mine." Si-Mok takes out his own. He positions them over an empty glass, some stacked papers and a pencil-case. The cell-phone records are lit up quite nicely now, and Si-Mok hunches over them, continuing their work.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" He asks after a moment.
"You finally asked." he replies. "The gossip here around here is pretty dry."
It takes a moment more to notice that Dong-Jae's hands are trembling, and he's reached for the side of Si-Mok's desk to steady himself. He asks, "Can I smoke in here?"
"If you answer the question."
"You should know the answer by now." Dong-Jae's hand reaches inside his blazer for a lighter. A moment later, a pinprick of light sets his face aglow. He turns away from Si-Mok's desk. Si-Mok notices his pinky, touching the farthest surface of his office-space as he inhales deeply. When he sighs, Dong-Jae's shoulders relax.
"It's just lavender," Dong-Jae's smooth drawl doesn't have much of its intended effect - his voice seems so small, and it doesn't echo in these fabric-covered walls.
"You can sit if you'd like." Si-Mok says.
"What do you take me for, an invalid?"
Si-Mok peers at the list.
"We have everything we need," he says with an air of finality. "Except internet," and Dong-Jae laughs. The faint smell of herbs fills the room, Si-Mok wrinkles his nose. He'd ask Dong-Jae to step outside, but it seems that even standing in the dark is taking its toll on him. Dong-Jae burns a stare into him, bottom-lit from their cellphones, casting high and dark shadows across the walls and the stacked boxes behind them. Something about his expression catches Si-Mok slightly off guard - it might be the dim lighting or just the way Dong-Jae's face contorts into an expression Si-Mok hasn't registered yet. It's not often that they meet anyways.
"You didn't come to see me, at the hospital," Dong-Jae says finally. "I was expecting you."
Si-Mok leans forward, head inclined. "I'm sorry. Were you disappointed?"
"No." Dong-Jae scoffs, half-heartedly derisive. "You don't have to pretend to care. I assumed you'd drop by to talk about Hanjo Group. My statement was what tipped the scales, after all."
"What makes you think that?" Si-Mok says.
Dong-Jae stares at him, contemptuous. "Tell me I'm wrong, then."
Si-Mok doesn't reply him, and Dong-Jae - he shakes his head wincing, mouth twitching when he takes another drag.
"Forget what I said," Dong-Jae mutters after a moment, moving back. He exhales, the smell of lavender tumbling over his lips and tinting the room with muted accents. "I didn't mean it."
The lights flicker on suddenly, with them the rejuvenating sound of telephones and ceiling lights clicking and beeping awake. Like a cat uncoiling after a fearful event, Dong-Jae takes a shaky breath and snubs his cigarette in a pocket ashtray, the tension in his shoulders unwinding slowly.
He turns to Si-Mok, who opens his mouth to speak when someone rushes into the room with alarming speed, in flailing arms a torch blazing beams of strong light that scintillate across the room.
"Oh my goodness," Ho-Sub bumbles, setting down his briefcase. "Prosecutor Hwang, I was looking all over for you, you said you were going to be at the copiers so I went in, and- oh, Prosecutor Seo... What are you doing here?"
Dong-Jae smiles, a mouthful of teeth. "I was just about to go."
He carefully nicks the cell-phone records from Si-Mok's desk, setting his shoulders back in similar vein to all of his practiced movements before heading for the door. Now clearly visible, Si-Mok takes note of the way he smooths his hand against the wood first, pressing his palm against it fully before moving. It's so fluid a motion that it's practically one action - but not something he's seen him do before.
"Prosecutor Seo," Si-Mok calls after him. In profile, Dong-Jae's tilts his head back.
"Go on."
"What makes you think that I don't care?" Si-Mok replies, despite himself. Between them, Ho-Sub gapes, shrinking into a formless hunch.
Dong-Jae steps back, adjusting his lapels slightly, huffing a laugh as he meets Si-Mok's expressionless gaze.
"Do you?" he asks; it sounds almost wistful. Without waiting for an answer, he takes his leave.