Archive of Our Own

Seo Dong-jae was not sleeping well. 

Every night, he tossed and turned and counted his sheep, and flipped his pillow over to the colder side, and took his melanin tablets, and tried turning off the small lamp at the bedside table, and immediately turned it back on, because he absolutely couldn’t handle the darkness. Some nights, he could practically feel the way Yoo-an stiffened next to him and pointedly didn’t sigh, even though she hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in probably over a month. 

The first weeks after his kidnapping and frankly miraculous rescue, he stayed home. Well, first he stayed at the hospital, and that took what seemed like an eternity, and then he was prescribed a few weeks of medical leave, and then the Prosecution Service topped it off with an additional fortnight and a reassignment to Seoul. The fact that the investigation into the Hanjo group got dropped roughly around the same time was barely a funny coincidence. 

So, anyway, Dong-jae took his leave and stayed home and tried to enjoy it, thank you very much. He took his meds, slept until noon, then made lunch, which for him was breakfast, went to physiotherapy, came home, showered and stayed on the couch until Yoo-an finished her own work. Then, as soon as she closed the lid of her laptop, he’d pull her down to join him, and she’d curl around him, burying her nose in his chest, and they’d talk or nap or watch TV until the kids came home. 

And, sure, he was exhausted literally all the time, but simultaneously, it was utter bliss. But now, everything changed, and he bloody knew what the cause was; his leave was finished and he had to go back into work. Only a week and a half in, and he was at the very end of his tether. He slept three-four hours a night at best, he kept forgetting things and it felt as if his brain was fried, and he was moody and snappy. Just yesterday he blew up at Ji-hun, his eldest, for seemingly no reason, and the hurt look that Ji-hun gave him was so terrible that Dong-jae wasn’t going to forget it anytime soon. 

Unfortunately, today wasn’t shaping up to be any better. He had court first thing in the morning, and he’d forgotten to submit a piece of potentially very important evidence; the victim’s parents yelled at him in the hallway and when he bought himself some tea to calm down, his hand muscles decided to protest exactly at that moment, which caused him to spill the hot liquid all over his shirt and trousers. He already felt like crying a bit, which was ridiculous, because real men didn’t cry  - that last part was, admittedly, not what he’d taught his sons, but there was a vast difference between what his children were allowed and what he allowed himself. He quietly said a bad word, tried to dry himself with paper towels, and decided to just get back to his office, where he still kept a change of clothes. He stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for ground floor, and let out a big sigh. 

And then the elevator shook and stopped, and the lights went off. 

Later, he would not be able to recall those few minutes. It was as if the world slowed down and then started going very, very fast. The walls were closing in on him and he couldn’t breathe, but all he could focus on was a small speck of dirt on the floor at his feet. He fell to his knees and started pushing at the buttons at random. Afterwards people told him that he was screaming bloody murder and there were scratch marks all over the control panel, but he couldn’t remember any of it. 

At some point, he must have passed out, because he woke up in the ambulance. To make matters worse, the ER doctor was a young woman who was entirely too bossy for her age and who refused to let him go home without a full panel of tests. When Yoo-an ran into the room and promptly got scolded for running in a hospital, he was sitting on his bed, scowling at the nurse taking yet another sample of his blood.

“Do you run a canteen for vampires here or what?” he said to her, irritably. “I’m sure you’ve practically drained my veins at his point.”

The nurse very visibly restrained herself from rolling her eyes and packed up her equipment, gesturing at Yoo-an to replace her at the chair by the bed. His wife immediately sank into the chair and untangled the scarf from around her neck with one hand, reaching for his palm with the other.  Her touch was firm, but a lot gentler than the nurse's.

“Are you okay?” she breathed and he noticed how pale her face was, except for her reddened cheeks, her telltale sign of stress. “What happened?”

He really did not want to tell her what happened, especially since he could barely remember it himself. He started convincing her that he was okay, and was doing a really terrible job of it, and so it was a relief of sorts when the bossy doctor returned with his results.

“They all came back negative,” she said and then, after glancing at their faces, she added, “which is a good thing. Physically, you are fine. I think what you experienced was a classic panic attack. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?” she asked politely and got startled when both her patient and his wife looked at her with identical expressions of incredulousness. 

Once Dong-jae explained, she only nodded and wrote down something in the chart.

“Well, that was certainly a very traumatic event. Have you been talking to anyone about it? A professional, I mean,” she added when Dong-jae looked at her warily. 

He was forced to admit that he hadn’t. His right hand clenched into a tight fist, which he only realized when the doctor’s eyes flickered to it.

“I would strongly suggest therapy,” the doctor said kindly. “And in the meantime, I think you should take a few days off, if you can. Take some rest, leave Seoul and go somewhere to reset.”

“Yeah, like where?” Dong-jae scoffed and Yoo-an squeezed his hand, in warning or reassurance, he wasn’t sure.

The doctor remained nonplussed.

“I don’t know what you find relaxing, but I’ve just come back from a trip to Chiaksan National Park,” she said calmly. “It’s not far from here, actually, near Wonju.”

Something clicked in Dong-jae’s brain when she said that, and he looked at Yoo-an, thinking. She didn’t let go of his hand and was massaging his knuckles with her thumb.

“Chiaksan National Park?” she repeated, addressing him. “It sounds nice, what do you think?”

*

So, yes, the first time he ended up in Wonju was an attempt to fix the broken pieces of his mental health. They’d packed the kids, booked a hotel and just went. Ji-hun and Gyeong-jun were excited, and although they seemed a bit wary at first, by the time they’d arrived to Wonju and took a stroll around the small lake near the hotel, they’d warmed up to the idea. Dinner was a happy, relaxed affair, if a bit loud, and even though Dong-jae didn’t sleep much better, he somehow felt more rested.

The idea to call Hwang Si-mok didn’t even register with him until they’d passed the regional prosecution office on the way for their hike, but once he saw the building, it was as if something switched in his brain.

“Sure, you should call him,” Yoo-an said distractedly, checking her rearview mirror. “If just to tell him that I still don’t have an affair and I’m still not planning on staging your kidnapping any time soon.”

Dong-jae laughed and leaned over to kiss her brow, but he took out his phone and arranged a meeting with Si-mok for the same evening. 

Si-mok chose the place; a shabby bistro not far from his office. When Dong-jae showed up five minutes early, the bistro was almost empty, save from an elderly man sitting alone in the corner and slurping his noodles loudly. The place smelled vaguely of cabbage, but also of ramyeon, and the smell was so heavenly that Dong-jae’s stomach rumbled. He sat at a large table by one of the windows and scrolled through his phone, listening to the frankly horrible pop music playing in the background. 

Si-mok showed up a few minutes late, having come straight from work. He nodded at Dong-jae through the window when he spotted him, and approached the table with big, decisive steps. The string of his ID badge was still hanging from his pocket, but he didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. He looked almost exactly the same as he did when Dong-jae last saw him, except, maybe… Maybe his face seemed a bit softer, more relaxed. But it might have been just the poor lightning in the bar. 

Si-mok sat down and they stared at each other for a second. They’d never met like this, without any official reason or an investigation to discuss or because their bosses made them. It was unprecedented, and neither of them knew how to navigate the situation, or where to start. 

Finally, Dong-jae cleared his throat.

“So, um… What do you recommend we should eat?”

Si-mok ordered two kimbaps, two small portions of the heavenly ramyeon, a chamomile tea for himself and a soda for Dong-jae. Dong-jae thought that it would have probably been nice to have some alcohol that could help them break the ice, but he couldn’t drink while taking his meds, and Si-mok had never been much of a drinker anyway.

“Why did you come to Wonju?” Si-mok asked when they were waiting for their dishes. 

Dong-jae hesitated for a second and reached for his soda to cover it up. It was very cold; droplets of water had condensed on the sides, leaving a wet circle on the table when he picked up the can. 

“I, ah, I came here with my family for a hike,” he said, not looking at Si-mok’s face. “I’ve been told that it’s a very relaxing place.”

There was a miniscule pause before Si-mok asked,

“And is it?”

“It’s nice,” Dong-jae replied with a trace of a smile. “It’s a change of scenery and pace for me. But it doesn’t seem like there’s much to do here?”

Si-mok thought about this for a minute, sipping his tea, and eventually he shook his head.

“But I don’t go out much,” he said. “I have a backlog of cases all the way through 2018.”

Dong-jae let out a laugh and was surprised when Si-mok replied with a smile of his own. That didn’t use to happen before. The waitress arrived with their dishes; the ramyeon was piping hot, so Dong-jae decided to go for the kimbap first. On the other side of the table, Si-mok seemed to have adopted a similar method.

“How is life in the province treating you?” Dong-jae asked, pulling the plate towards himself and unwrapping the chopsticks. “Is it better than Seoul?”

Si-mok made a non-committal hum and moved his head to one side, then the other. Dong-jae watched him, vaguely impressed with the speed at which he was stuffing kimbap into his mouth.

“Not better,” was what he finally settled on. “But not worse. Different. Although the work is roughly the same.”

“One thing you can count on is that people will keep on murdering and beating each other,” Dong-jae said philosophically and Si-mok let out a hum of agreement. “If it weren’t so terrible, it would be oddly reassuring.”

He could swear that a corner of Si-mok’s mouth twitched. This prompted a longer conversation about work, their bosses, Dong-jae's children and relocation to Seoul. Finally they polished off their plates and Dong-jae let out a satisfied sigh.

“Listen,” he said after a beat. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

Si-mok seemed surprised.

“For what?”

“For not abandoning the search for me,” Dong-jae said. “I know that you and Senior Inspector Han were ordered to do so. So. Thank you for not doing that. You’ve always been a stubborn bastard,” he added and tried to laugh, because his throat felt suspiciously tight. The laugh got stuck in his larynx and Dong-jae dropped his gaze to his hands, now folded on the table between them.

The silence on the other side was deafening and he didn’t dare to look up until Si-mok spoke.

“Stopping the search felt… wrong,” he finally said. “We did what we had to do.”

“I should probably thank her in person, too,” Dong-jae said abruptly, seemingly changing the subject, but Si-mok caught on. “But I don’t even know where she works now. I don’t have her number.”

He fiddled with his hands for a second, feeling Si-mok’s gaze over him. 

“She’s been transferred to the National Security Bureau,” he said finally, and Dong-jae looked at him. “In case you want to contact her.”

“Do you… keep in touch?” he asked carefully.

“Sometimes,” Si-mok shrugged, but he dropped his gaze and pushed a piece of kimchi around his plate. Dong-jae leaned back in his chair and watched him for a few seconds.

“I heard that her boss got demoted,” he remarked in a neutral tone, and Si-mok hummed, not raising his eyes from the plate.

“Yes, Chief Choi Bit. I don’t know what happened to her after the demotion. I think that she went back to her hometown.”

“Ah, the pair of you,” Dong-jae folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Always uncovering corruption and breaking careers. And you ended up in the middle of nowhere as a reward.”

Then he paused and thought for a moment. Well, first he thought, then he made a dramatic pause for greater effect, although the result might have been wasted on Si-mok. 

“It must be worse for Inspector Han, though,” he added. “She practically stayed where she was and the police are well known for holding a grudge against whistleblowers.”

Si-mok’s arms dropped.

“She says that her new boss seems okay,” he said. 

“And her team?”

“She is very good at avoiding that question.”

Dong-jae was surprised at the hidden implication that Si-mok had asked about this more than once, but he tried not to show it. For a reason he couldn’t comprehend, he felt compelled to offer some reassurance, especially since Si-mok was still staring at his kimchi, looking frankly a bit pathetic.

“I’m sure things will smooth over eventually,” he said. And then, because he didn’t want to seem too sappy, he added, “Or, you know. Give it two years and you’ll get another earth shattering case. Maybe next time you’ll take down the Deputy Commissioner?”

*

The next day, he and Yoo-an woke up early. They laid in the bed on their sides, facing each other, their hands almost touching over the covers. The kids were probably fast asleep on the couch in the living room - they’d rented a studio, because for some reason it felt safer than two separate adjoining rooms - and it was  blessedly quiet. 

A few years ago, this moment of respite would have meant that Dong-jae would dive under the covers and Yoo-an would make valiant efforts to stay quiet so that the kids wouldn’t hear her gasps and moans through the thin wall. But today, he still wasn’t sure where they stood. The status of their relationship was an issue they kept side-stepping, almost afraid to discuss it, as if avoiding talking about it could help. 

But things were so good right now. Well, mostly good. Better than they had been for months, perhaps years. 

Dong-jae stared into his wife’s face, and she looked back at him.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked finally, and he gulped.

“Do you think that I should quit?”

Her eyes widened. Slowly, she sat up and leaned against the headboard. 

“Why now?” she only asked.

Dong-jae looked up at her, and then pushed himself from the mattress into a sitting position. 

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he said, not looking at her but somewhere behind her shoulder. “I don’t know if this job is right for me anymore.”

“Why?”

“Well, panic attacks in elevators are one thing,” he said, trying to be funny, but her face crumpled. He took a deep breath before soldering on. “And, also… I don’t… I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before.”

She started, and this time he looked directly into her eyes. They were still wide, but she was looking at him with something that seemed like regret mixed with hope.

“I don’t want to live in my office and not talk to you or the boys for days. I don’t want to miss important things because I’m killing myself for a job that almost killed me.”

Her hand shot out to grip his knee, and even through the layers of his pyjama pants and blankets he could feel her fingernails dig into his skin. 

“But you like your job,” she said softly. 

“I like our family more,” he replied. “I can be another kind of lawyer.”

“Oh, yeah?” she smiled wryly. “You would be happy researching mergers and acquisitions? Or divorces? Or anything else that doesn’t relate to criminal law?”

He hesitated. 

“Well… I could become Korea’s top divorce lawyer…”

She laughed, but not in a mean way. 

“Honey, you are an adrenaline junkie and chasing criminals gives you a thrill,” she said once she’d calmed down. She reached a hand and stroked his cheek with her knuckles. “I don’t think that you want to quit. And I don’t think this is the question that you really want to ask.”

Damn, she was good. Maybe she should be a prosecutor instead of dabbling in financial statements. 

“Fine,” he said and caught her hand. “That wasn’t the question. The real one is…” he hesitated. “Can we try again?”

Yoo-an took a shuddering breath.

“Will things be different this time?” she said in a hoarse voice.

“Yes,” Dong-jae said immediately, and when she looked both hopeful and skeptical, as if she wanted to believe him, but was almost scared to do so, he pressed her hand and continued. “I’ve thought about it - I have been assigned to Seoul and I can make it permanent. I will play the kidnapped prosecutor card as many times as it takes. I will be home more often and I will make time for dinners and play time and dates…”

He didn’t finish, because Yoo-an practically threw herself at him, enveloping him in a crushing hug that almost knocked the breath out of his lungs. His arms moved automatically to wrap around her, and he pressed her to his chest. 

“Yes,” she said into his neck, and Dong-jae shut his eyes tightly, suddenly feeling almost lightheaded. “I may be crazy, but yes, let’s try again. But,” she added a bit more sternly and leaned back to be able to look him in the eye. “There will be some rules. Non-negotiable number of dinners and whatnot.” 

“Well, baby, you’re in luck,” Dong-jae said with a smile so wide that his cheeks hurt a bit. “I’m a lawyer. We are trained to follow the rules.”

*

The first time he bumped into Senior Inspector Han Yeo-jin was almost an accident. 

He never called her, like he’d told Si-mok that he would. He didn’t go to visit her, either, because that would be weird. But whenever he had any business at the National Police Agency, and his latest investigation actually required some cooperation with them, he preferred to go there in person, instead of sending an email or talking on the phone. He wasn’t hoping to meet Inspector Han, per se, but the possibility was somewhere in the back of his mind. 

And today, it actually happened. Their paths crossed in the lobby, when he was going in, and she was going out. She was with her colleagues, but was walking half a step ahead of them, which weirdly made it seem like she wanted to escape the building. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and although she bowed her head towards him, she didn’t stop. Dong-jae raised his hand in greeting and was opening his mouth to speak, but she sped past him and disappeared behind the door. 

Rude, Dong-jae thought, but he didn’t think much about it until an hour later, when he received a text from an unknown number. 

Hello, Prosecutor Seo, it’s Inspector Han. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop to talk to you, but we were in a hurry. I hope you aren’t offended. 

And, okay, walking past him was weird, but this apologetic text was definitely weirder. Dong-jae sighed and started tapping on his phone. 

Of course not, we are both busy people. By the way, I didn’t have your number, so I couldn’t tell you before, but thank you for your efforts in finding me. It is much appreciated. 

The reply was almost instantaneous. 

It was a joint effort. Prosecutor Hwang didn’t give up on you, either. Nor did the Yongsan squad.

Okay, Dong-jae’s gratitude had its limits. He wasn’t going to descend on Yongsan police precinct with bags of fried chicken under each arm as a thank you present. 

Please thank the Yongsan squad for me, he wrote back. I have already spoken to Prosecutor Hwang. 

This time, a few minutes passed before her next message. 

You have?

Again with that strange tone. Dong-jae furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin. His wedding ring, which he’d started wearing recently, felt cold against his skin. He hadn’t worn it before, mostly for security reasons, but there wasn’t any point in it anymore - any criminal could look him up online now and see that he had a family. 

Yes, he replied. And then, because he felt a bit devilish, he added, you know, Inspector, there isn’t much to do in Wonju, but the food is really great. Maybe you should try it.

She didn’t reply to that, but he wasn’t expecting her to.

*

One December evening, Dong-jae was stuck in his office, reading a very long and very boring report, and painfully aware of the fact that if he didn’t leave now, he was about to miss dinner. Missing dinners was a big no-no nowadays, especially since he’d promised Yoo-an that he’d make an effort to be home more often, and that translated to three dinners a week at minimum. 

He treated that promise very seriously, so when someone knocked at his door three minutes to five, he was ready to bite their head off.

“What?” he barked and was surprised, to say the least, when the person on the other side of the door was Yoo-an. 

She looked at him, a bit startled by this greeting.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said dumbly. “What are you doing here? Did anything happen? Where are the kids?”

“Whoa,” she said and put her hands on his arms to steady him. “Calm down. Nothing happened. The kids are with my mother, she’s taking them to the movies. And I came to surprise you. Put your coat on, Prosecutor Seo, and pack up your things, we’re going out.” 

He was so stunned that he complied without a word of protest. Actually, he pretty much did not speak until he was sat in the passenger’s seat of his car that Yoo-an was driving and she put on a blinker to turn downtown. 

“Where are we going?”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in excitement.

“There is a Christmas lights display in a shopping mall downtown. It’s all over the internet, apparently it’s really nicely done.”

“But you don’t even like Christmas,” he said, dumbfounded, and she side-eyed him. 

“I like the lights,” she shrugged when the car came to a stop at the red light. “Are you complaining that your wife is taking you out on a surprise date?”

“No, no,” he quickly assured her. “No complaints here. It’s a very, very nice surprise.”

She smiled at him and he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest. She reached out a hand and patted his thigh before the light changed to green. Dong-jae leaned back in the seat and stretched out his legs. He still had no idea where they were going, but it felt nice to just observe the view outside. It was an unusually cold winter this year, and the people of Seoul were not taking it well - everyone seemed to be talking mostly about the cold these days, and how much they hated it. 

Yoo-an pulled into the shopping mall’s parking lot and found an empty space. Then, to Dong-jae’s surprise, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him outside. One of the first things Dong-jae noticed when they stepped onto the street, the freezing temperature aside, was a huge group of people on the opposite side of the pavement, pointing at the building in amusement. Dong-jae looked up and saw a gigantic LED screen installed on the whole corner of the mall. The light from it was almost blinding.

“Oh, wow. These are the lights?”

“Apparently it’s a whole show,” Yoo-an said excitedly, and pulled him towards the pedestrian’s crossing. “Let’s see it from the other side.”

Indeed, it was a show, featuring lots of animations of snow, reindeers, flashing lights and a very unsettling rendition of Santa Claus that left them choking with laughter. Afterwards, they took a stroll along the street, where the vendors had sensed a demand and set up their stalls on the empty pavement spaces. Someone had a genius idea and hung strings of lights between them, creating a roof of sorts, and the overall result was cozy and quite romantic. Yoo-an ordered a cocoa for herself and a chai latte for him, and they continued their slow walk until Dong-jae spotted a place that offered various fruit covered in chocolate and caramel. 

“Ooh, I want a strawberry,” Yoo-an said when he pointed it out to her. 

“I’ll get two,” Dong-jae smiled and moved away from her for a second to throw away his empty coffee cup and place the order. He zoned out a bit, watching the stall owner pack up the fruits with quick, practiced movements, and was only vaguely aware of the sound of two people colliding behind his back and quick apologies being exchanged.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Yoo-an exclaim. “Are you okay… Oh, Senior Inspector Han!”

He turned around, holding a piece of chocolate-clad strawberry in each hand, just in time to witness Yoo-an frantically wiping whipped cream from Inspector Han’s sleeve. The Senior Inspector did not seem amused, but when Dong-jae bowed at her, she returned the gesture.

“It’s fine,” she eventually said, gently stilling Yoo-an’s hand. “I was going to wash it, anyway.”

“How are you, by the way, Inspector?” his wife asked, throwing her now empty cup into the bin. “I heard that you got a promotion!”

Belatedly, she realized her faux-pas and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. But Inspector Han only smiled, though in a weird way that Dong-jae hadn’t seen on her, and replied,

“I’m good, thank you. And you? And you, Prosecutor Seo?”

Her eyes moved to him, still awkwardly holding up chocolate strawberries. Dong-jae took a beat to look at her, taking in her messy short hair, the brown coat that was now stained with Yoo-an’s cocoa, and an elegant, dark scarf that was hanging loosely around her neck, even though it was close to minus ten degrees. 

“Oh, you know how it is, Inspector,” he replied practically on autopilot, and barely registered Yoo-an looking at him curiously. “Always busy with work, solving crime, serving justice, etcetera.”

Something like amusement flickered in Inspector Han’s eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, sincerely. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now, I’m sure we’ll catch up soon!”

And she hurried on, barely leaving them any chance to respond. Yoo-an stared after her for a moment. 

“Now, I haven’t met her many times, but she somehow seems different,” she finally said and accepted the strawberry from her husband’s hand. “Didn’t she seem very pale to you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t keep up with the color of her skin,” he said distractedly, and Yoo-an snorted. “Maybe she’s just tired.”

“She was very nice to me when… you know,” she said in a tight voice, and he stepped into her space to press a fleeting kiss to her temple. “Not like that prosecutor friend of yours,” she added after a beat. “Suggesting that I got rid of you to hide my affair.”

Dong-jae laughed. She still hadn’t forgiven Si-mok for this line of enquiry. 

“He has his moments,” Dong-jae assured his wife and grabbed her free hand. “Come on, I want to see the creepy Santa again. We need to take pictures for the boys.”

*

He mentioned this meeting to Si-mok a week or two later, when they met in Wonju over a case file that Dong-jae absolutely, totally had to pick up in person and that most certainly couldn’t just be mailed over. 

‘I saw Senior Inspector Han recently,’ Dong-jae said carefully once they were seated at the table, each with a bowl of bibimbap in front of them. 

Si-mok’s eyes rose to meet his and his hand, reaching for the chopsticks, froze mid-air. It lasted only a moment - soon he picked up the sticks and gave out a low, non-committal hum. Dong-jae looked at him for a second, stifling the urge to kick him under the table, and continued.

‘I actually just randomly bumped into her on the street. She seemed to be in a hurry and I honestly wouldn’t have recognized her, but my wife spilled some cocoa on her and then they started talking, exchanging pleasantries and so on, you know how women are…’ he chuckled, before the lack of response from the other side of the table made him realize that maybe Si-mok actually did not know. 

Instead of replying, or otherwise indicating that he’d heard him, Si-mok took a large bite of his bibimbap. 

‘You and your wife are back together for good?’ he asked and Dong-jae didn’t know why this bit of information was the main takeaway from his sentence, or why Si-mok would be interested in his family life in the first place, but he nodded and couldn't help the pleased smile that appeared on his face. He couldn’t allow it to distract him, though. 

“Actually, she also wanted me to ask you, do you and Senior Inspector Han still keep in touch? Is everything all right with her?”

Okay, this time he definitely wasn’t imagining the concerned way in which Si-mok’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Why? Didn’t she seem all right?”

“Well, she did seem kind of pale and frazzled, honestly,” Dong-jae admitted and attacked his own plate with the chopsticks. “I was wondering if you knew how her new job is treating her.”

Si-mok fell silent for a moment.

“She keeps telling me that it’s fine,” he finally said in a strange, tired voice. “Her new chief likes her. But she’s been working a lot recently, even more than usual.”

“It really must be a lot,” Dong-jae remarked, “if even you noticed. You used to practically live in the office.”

“Well, the coffee maker is better there,” Si-mok said off-handedly, and Dong-jae almost dropped his chopsticks in surprise.

“Prosecutor Hwang!” he exclaimed. “Was that a joke?”

Si-mok didn’t deign this with a comment, but his mouth curled in a half-smile.

“Anyway,” Dong-jae said after a moment, picking up another bite of food. “I think Inspector Han could use a vacation. If you persuade her to travel down here, make sure you feed her this food, it’s amazing.”

“She’s very busy.”

“I know, so we’ve established,” Dong-jae rolled his eyes. “Or you can come to Seoul and check on her yourself. If you need an excuse, I actually have a case that you could look at, because it’s driving me insane. I need someone to share the insanity with.”

Si-mok looked up at him, looking vaguely interested.

“What is the case about?”

“Oh, let me tell you,” Dong-jae looked at him in exasperation. “So, there is this woman who hit her husband with her car…”

*

He actually totally, completely forgot that he’d offered Si-mok a case to work on, and so he was very surprised, to say the least, when Si-mok took him up on that offer. 

“I will come to Seoul on Friday morning,” he said over the phone. “Can I meet you in your office when I arrive? You can show me the case straight away.”

Dong-jae, who had been peacefully dozing off on the couch, pretending that he was following the plot of the latest superhero movie that his sons put on, frowned. 

“The case?” he repeated. 

Yoo-an, who was curled up on the opposite side of the couch with a mug of tea and a book - not even pretending that she was into superheroes - looked at him curiously. She was even more confused when her husband slapped his forehead with his open palm. 

“Ah, the case! Sure, sure,” he said, trying to remember which case it was. “But are you only in town for Friday? We could grab lunch later or someth…”

“I think I will be busy,” Si-mok interrupted. “But maybe on Saturday or Sunday before I leave?”

“You’re staying over the weekend?” Dong-jae couldn’t help but be surprised. Then, almost immediately, he reasoned out loud, “of course, the drive to Wonju is quite long…”

Yoo-an, who by now had realized who he was speaking to, made a face at him. 

“Two hours is long?” she mouthed, but Dong-jae ignored her. 

“Do you have a place to stay?”

Now Yoo-an was just looking horrified, and he put a hand up to placate her. 

“Yes, I booked a hotel,” Si-mok said. 

“Ah,” Dong-jae replied dumbly. “Well… good. So… I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yes,” Si-mok said and hung up.

Dong-jae stared at his phone, but the screen went dark and it didn’t seem as if it was going to provide him with any answers. Then, as he put it down, he was met with his wife’s expectant look. 

“You know,” he said to her, a bit helplessly. “I really didn’t think that he would actually listen to me…”