The call from Seoul cos on a Tuesday afternoon. I'm knee-deep in paperwork when my phone buzzes, the Seoul area code imdiately catching my attention. As I listen to the official confirmation that Han and I are being recalled to Seoul, I feel a strange mix of relief and nostalgia.
The next few days pass in a blur of goodbyes and loose ends. Ko organizes a small farewell gathering, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness despite her professional deanor.
"Don't forget about us down here in the provinces," she jokes, but there's a seriousness underneath.
"How could I?" I reply, aning it more than I expected to. "Take care of yourself, Ko. And keep fighting the good fight."
As I pack up my desk, Officer Shon approaches, looking uncomfortable. Continue reading on m|v-l'e-
"Look," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, "I know we didn't always see eye to eye, but... you did good work here. Seoul's lucky to have you back."
I'm touched by the unexpected praise. "Thanks, Shon. It ans a lot."
The drive back to Seoul is long and quiet. Han dozes in the passenger seat while I navigate the familiar highways, watching the landscape change from Gwangju's mix of industrial and rural to Seoul's sprawling urbanity.
As soon as we enter the city limits, I make a beeline for my grandmother's restaurant. The familiar scent of her cooking hits as I push open the door, and for a mont, it's like I never left.
"Grandma!" I call out, spotting her bustling in the kitchen.
She turns, her face lighting up. "Aigoo! My boy!" She hurries over, pulling into a tight hug that slls of garlic and gochujang. "You're too thin," she chides, pulling back to look at critically. "Didn't they feed you in Gwangju?"
I can't help but laugh. "I missed you too, grandma."
She ushers to a table, already moving to prepare my favorite dishes. "Tell everything," she demands.
I'm midway through recounting a sanitized version of my ti in Gwangju when my phone rings. The na on the screen makes pause: Senior Superintendent Choi.
"Excuse , grandma," I say, stepping outside to take the call.
"This is Detective Park Minjun," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Ah, Park," Choi's calm, authoritative voice cos through. "I heard you're back in Seoul."
"Yes, sir. Just arrived today."
There's a pause, and I can almost picture him nodding. "Good, good. How was your ti in Gwangju? I hope it was... educational."
I choose my words carefully. "It was certainly an experience, sir. I learned a lot."
"I'm sure you did," he replies, a hint of sothing I can't quite identify in his tone. "Listen, I'd like you to co see tomorrow when you report in. There are so matters we need to discuss."
My mind races, wondering what this could be about. "Of course, sir. First thing tomorrow?"
"Yes, that would be fine. I look forward to our chat."
The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at my phone, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling in my gut.
I head back inside, where my grandmother has laid out enough food for three people. As I sit down to eat, my mind is already spinning with possibilities. What does Choi want to discuss? Is it about my ti in Gwangju? Or is there sothing else going on?
"You look worried," my grandmother observes, breaking into my thoughts. "Is everything okay?"
I force a smile. "Everything's fine, grandma. Just thinking about work tomorrow."
She nods, not entirely convinced. "Well, forget about work for now. Eat! You need to get your strength back."
As I dig into the comforting flavors of ho, I try to push thoughts of tomorrow's eting out of my mind. Whatever Choi wants, I'll face it head-on. For now, I'll enjoy this mont of peace, surrounded by the familiar sights and slls of the place I've missed more than I realized.
***
The next morning, I find myself standing outside Senior Superintendent Choi's office, a sense of déjà vu washing over . It feels like yesterday when I first stood here, a rookie officer with more ambition than experience, unaware that this eting would change the course of my career.
I rember the nervous energy that thrumd through then, the way I'd obsessively straightened my tie and smoothed down my hair. Now, years later, I'm more composed, but there's still a flutter of anticipation in my stomach.
Choi's secretary, a stern-faced woman I vaguely recall from my previous visits, nods at . "He's expecting you," she says, rising to escort in.
As the door opens, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia. The office hasn't changed much - sa imposing desk, sa view of the Seoul skyline, sa faint sll of tobacco that Choi never quite manages to eliminate despite his attempts to quit.
What I'm not prepared for is the sight of Han, already seated in one of the chairs facing Choi's desk. He looks as surprised to see as I am to see him.
Choi rises as I enter, his face impassive as ever. "Ah, Detective. Please, have a seat."
I nod, settling into the chair next to Han. We exchange a quick glance, both of us clearly wondering what this is about.
Choi sits back down, folding his hands on the desk. His gaze is intense, reminding of that first eting years ago when he saw sothing in that I hadn't even recognized in myself.
As I sit in Choi's office, the air suddenly feels thick with tension. Han's expression is unreadable, but there's a knowing look in his eyes that tells he's already been briefed. The silence in the room is oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock on the wall.
Choi leans forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What I'm about to tell you... it's about your parents."
My heart skips a beat. The unsolved murder that's haunted for years, the very reason I beca a detective - suddenly, it's all I can focus on. I feel my palms start to sweat, and I wipe them surreptitiously on my pants.
"My... my parents?" I manage to stamr out. "What about them?"
Choi's eyes, usually sharp and focused, soften slightly. "I knew them. I knew them well. Especially your father."
I blink, confused. "You knew my father? But how? He was just a-"
"A factory worker?" Choi interrupts gently. "That's what you were told, wasn't it?"
I nod, feeling increasingly off-balance. "Yes, he worked at the Daewon Component Factory. He was a line supervisor."
Choi shakes his head slowly. "That was his cover. The truth is... your father used to work for . He was a cop. And not just any cop - he was one of the best I've ever known."
The room seems to spin. I grip the arms of my chair to steady myself. "A cop? My father was a cop? But... but that's impossible.
I would have known. Soone would have told ."
Han shifts in his seat beside , clearing his throat. "It was classified information," he says softly. "Your father's true identity was known only to a select few."
I turn to Han, feeling a surge of betrayal. "You knew about this?"
Han shakes his head. "Not until recently. Senior Superintendent Choi briefed just before you arrived."
Choi leans back in his chair, his face etched with what looks like regret. "Your father was involved in a deep undercover operation. We were investigating a gang with connections to international drug trade. The Daewon Component Factory was suspected of being a front for their operations."
I listen, feeling like I'm falling deeper into a surreal nightmare with each word. My father, the man I thought I knew, suddenly a stranger.
"We approached your father because of his background in engineering," Choi continues. "He was perfect for the role. He could believably work in the factory while gathering the intelligence we needed."
"And my mother?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did she know?"
Choi nods solemnly. "She knew. She was incredibly brave, supporting your father through it all."
I close my eyes, mories of my mother's worried face flashing through my mind. All those tis I'd thought she was just concerned about dad's long hours at the factory... had she actually been fearing for his life?
"What went wrong?" I ask, opening my eyes to et Choi's gaze.
Choi's face darkens. "Your father was getting close. Too close. Sohow, they figured out he wasn't who he claid to be. He was caught."
The words hit like a physical blow. I feel the blood drain from my face as the implications sink in.
"That's why..." I start, unable to finish the sentence.
Choi nods, his voice heavy with regret. "That's why they were murdered. The gang wanted to send a ssage. To us, to anyone who might think of crossing them."
I grip the arms of my chair, knuckles white. The anger, the grief, the confusion - it all swirls inside , threatening to overflow. "Why... why are you telling this now?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Choi is silent for a long mont, his eyes fixed on mine. The ticking of the clock seems to grow louder in the silence. When he finally speaks, his words send a jolt through my entire body.
"We've identified who killed your parents."
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