Chapter Text
Dokja hadn't heard from his new acquaintance for two days. Two very difficult days, during which he had gotten to know almost all of the residents. A man with schizophrenia lived on his floor, as he had been told by an old woman from the first floor who constantly grabbed his wrist, as if trying to say something, but changed her mind at the last moment. On the third floor, besides Joonghyuk, there was a married couple whom he had heard recently. His biggest misfortune was to find them almost “eating” each other on the open balcony. In the evening of the same day, when Dokja was sitting on the roof, the same man approached him and, apparently, did not understand at first that it was Dokja, because when he looked closely at his face, he timidly moved to the other corner and lit a cigarette. Dokja noticed that he had not found a single strange person in this house. They were all the same. They were normal among themselves, but when Dokja appeared in front of them, they immediately turned on their fearful gaze and seemed to bite their tongues so as not to say anything. Some of them didn't seem to leave their apartments at all, but just stared at Dokja.
This made Dokja a little wary, but he attributed it to the neighborhood or his own paranoia. However, he was not stupid and was well trained in reading emotions, so he understood that something was wrong and began to listen carefully. The old woman wasn't really that strange; he had seen her in the store talking to a female student. Her voice was even and calm, perhaps even sounding younger than she was. She was calmly having tea with the manager — he saw this when he was returning from work. The couple was actually arguing as if it were staged. Their shouting voices were so theatrical that at one point Dokja started searching the internet to see if they were quotes. Only the man next to him remained stable. Dokja even managed to forget about him. Only his religious inclinations made him shiver a little.
Dokja decided to let the whole situation develop on its own. However, when the fourth day came, he returned home to find the same thing at his door for the third time. Fish that was rotten from the head. Its smell made him want to vomit every time, but he found the strength to throw it over the balcony. In the morning, it was never there, and Dokja was very happy about that. He took a deep breath before opening the door.
“Where has this asshole been for four days?” flashed through his mind, and he slammed the door behind him.
While doing his evening routine, he always noticed that some things were not where he had left them. All these changes drove him crazy with incomprehension of everything that had happened in recent days. The only thing that made him happy was the peace and quiet at work. It was the only calm respite in his life that didn't drive him crazy, so he was grateful for at least something stable in his life.
5:43 a.m. Dokja wakes up to the ringing of his phone. At first, he thinks it's his alarm clock, but no — someone decided to call him at almost six in the morning.
“Morning, I know it's very early, but I wanted to report that a body was found near the Mapo Bridge,” the voice sounded quite agitated.
“Sooyoung, it's a suicide bridge, young people are constantly killing themselves there, it doesn't deserve m...”
"A photo of a tongue was found in the dead man's mouth. You understand that the tongue itself is nowhere to be found."
The girl who called adjusted her coat, which she had thrown on because of the cold from the water and the morning, looking at the prosecutors, then turning away from them, shielding the speaker from the wind with her hand and speaking softly so as not to attract unnecessary attention.
Dokja jumped out of bed, feeling not a bit sleepy. Finally, something that remained from his past life. Even if it meant such a terrible thing.
“I'll be there soon.”
He quickly began to get ready, almost forgetting his tie and lens, but finally sat in the taxi with all the necessary equipment for work, checking that everything was working.
Sooyoung had been his savior in his search for articles for years. Her luck in being in the right places was one of the things that brought them together. This savior met him a few minutes away from the crime scene, her hand patting him on the shoulder, remaining there for a while as they walked. It felt like she had simply decided to rest on him. Her long black hair was surprisingly well styled, despite the fact that she was on night patrol, but Dokja ignored it.
There weren't many people, most of whom were clearly unhappy about being there and drank coffee with their arms folded across their chests. Among the crowd of unfamiliar faces, he saw one that was very familiar. His hair fell over his eyes, hiding his gaze, but his lips were pressed into a thin, curved line. His even build and hands, covered in medical gloves and a black shirt, were adjusting a camera, the strap of which was falling down, completely ignored by its owner. For some reason, his presence was reassuring here, even though there was no reason for it. But only Dokja was glad to see him, so he quietly walked over to him, leaving Sooyoung with a frown and a heavy sigh. He looked over his shoulder and saw the camera settings.
“Do you always work at ISO 400 to 10?” he whispered quietly in his ear, and the man in front didn't even react, just nodded as he checked the settings.
Dokja waited patiently, watching him, trying to catch something new. Something about the way he reacted even shocked Dokja a little. He was so pleasantly calm compared to his neighbors. He talked to him calmly, didn't look intimidated, and seemed somewhat interested. Joonghyuk, who squeezed the camera slightly in his hands, which Dokja noticed by his white fingertips, put the strap around his neck, looking at Dokja and turning to him.
"Here we are again, Dokja. It's funny that our next meeting is at a murder scene," he nodded, smiling slightly but sharply.
These words and gestures brought Dokja back to the reality of what was happening. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn't immediately thought about work and the body, but had approached his acquaintance instead.
“At first I thought it was suicide, but then when they told me about the photo, I immediately realized that it was the work of that maniac,” Dokja tried to explain his presence here for some reason, putting his hand on the back of his neck.
Joonghyuk looked at Dokja for quite a long time, the loud noise of the waves crashing against each other forcing him to speak louder, but even his attempt to do so was swallowed up by the strong icy wind that blew through Dokja's coat, making him shiver slightly from the cold. However, he felt even more shivering from the fact that he was being watched too closely, as if trying to catch him with just a glance. He wasn't even sure if Joonghyuk had blinked even once. A phantom sensation spread through his body, causing him to narrow his eyes in question.
“I guess the person who died had a sharp tongue that had to be cut off,” he finally said, tilting his head to the side.
“Huh?” He blinked, as if he couldn't believe what he had heard.
Joonghyuk stepped a little closer, shaking his head. “Sorry, it's just my guess based on what's there, don't take it seriously...”
But Dokja took it seriously. He remembered other details and began to connect them in his head. “What if the places they choose to photograph are connected?” The wind blew again, almost knocking Dokja over, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a gesture of coolness.
Joonghyuk looked at the camera and adjusted his shirt sleeves, saying, "There's a coffee shop nearby, it's open 24 hours. Then he turned and headed toward the man with long blond hair. Watching his receding figure, he wondered why he was acting this way, but quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting anyone to worry about him. He turned back to Sooyoung, who was on her phone and looked up at him wearily, as if asking if he wanted something.
"Will you go with me for coffee while they start work?"
Her phone quickly fell into her coat pocket, and she nodded. As they walked away, he noticed another brief glance at him from Joonghyuk, which stopped immediately after he was “caught.”
The shop was actually close by, which was a relief. Passing by the signs on the bridge with the hotline numbers for psychological help, they finally reached the shop. It was quite small, with an old man sitting behind the counter, puzzling over something in the newspaper, and when he saw the girl and the boy come in, he only glanced briefly at them.
Standing outside the store 10 minutes later with a light snack and, most importantly, coffee, Dokja finally asked Sooyoung.
“Do you know that photographer I was talking to?” He tried to make his words sound more casual, but Sooyoung's face still wore a strange, suspicious smirk.
“Even if so, when did you start gathering information on people? Are you charmed by him?”
He gave her a sidelong glance: “Don't be ridiculous, he ended up being my neighbor in a house that I would add to crime series.”
The last words seemed to interest Sooyoung, because she turned to Dokja, raising her eyebrows.
“Are your neighbors crazy and murderers, and he's like their boss?” It was an open mockery, and he understood that, but there is a grain of truth in every joke.
Dokja smiled, then laughed: “I wouldn't be surprised if they started telling me that the red on the floor is paint because the couple who argue loudly enough for the whole building to hear decided to do art therapy. Actually, they're all really weird, and I still can't figure out if it's just me or if it's really true.”
Sooyoung, who had been laughing since the beginning of the sentence, quieted down a little, thoughtfully touching her chin with her cup. The steam from the hot coffee dissolved on her face, which Dokja was watching. After thinking for a moment, she replied, “Try taking notes, it might help you balance your thoughts, just don't do it like work or personal notes, but as if you were telling me.”
Dokja nodded, throwing away the empty cup. Sooyoung just raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise and muttered that he was eating way too fast when she still had half a sandwich left. It was time to go back — their break couldn't last forever, and work was still waiting.
Not much had changed in their absence. Joonghyuk and the investigators had marked the area, placed triangles with numbers on them, and begun recording their findings. It was fairly steady, but Dokja still had to wait another twenty minutes. While waiting, he managed to catch one of the officers who had been on night patrol, showing him his press card, which he kept in his passport holder.
“Kim Dokja, correspondent for KCLG. I have permission to film and record. Can I talk to you?” He smiled politely, forcing them to give him everything he needed with that smile.
The young man in uniform nodded to his colleague and turned back to Dokja.
“No problem. What exactly are you interested in?” he asked as Dokja pinned a badge to his collar.
"Your evening patrol."
The body was found at 5:13. At first, they wrote it off as a drunk man, then a suicide, but then they accidentally saw a glint in his mouth and took a photo of his severed tongue lying in his hands. The officer clearly noted that there was no blood around or in his mouth, but the tongue in the photo had a slight blue-purple tint. He had no documents with him, nor any other personal belongings. He was dressed for the weather, so it is believed that this is where it happened.
Dokja wrote down details such as the weather and location for himself. During this time, he was given the opportunity to go to the scene, so after thanking them, he returned to the investigator.
“You're Kim Dokja, right?” He leaned slightly toward Dokja, smiling warmly.
This man gave off a strange feeling. It was as if you could tell him anything, but at the same time, you were afraid to do so. He bowed slightly, showing his ID as proof.
“I am San Wukong, the chief investigator on these cases.”
Dokja looked surprised. He had never seen him before — had a new investigator been assigned? However, he decided that there was no point in asking, he would find out later. Wukong invited him to step behind the barrier tape.
“Look around and do your job, I'll be standing nearby, so I'll be waiting for your questions,” he patted Dokja lightly on the shoulder as he walked away.
Dokja watched him go, then returned to his work. After setting up the camera, he began to capture the main shots: the crime scene, the place where it happened, and some of the investigators' notes. Finally, he got to the body — he photographed the corpse and took a picture of the tongue, although he was unlikely to be able to post it anywhere, but he liked to have a complete picture for his work. Looking through the photos, he noticed something peculiar. The group's attention was focused on everything and nothing at the same time. It felt as if the main clues had been overlooked and replaced by noise from various photos.
"Weird..."
“What's 'weird', detective-journalist?” A voice came from behind Dokja, and he shuddered, not expecting such a sudden intrusion into his thoughts.
He turned and looked at the owner of the voice. Dokja took a deep breath — it was just Joonghyuk, although it should have scared him. He wanted to share his thoughts, but Dokja still felt that rotten feeling inside that he couldn't trust him 100%. He blinked in surprise, as if Joonghyuk thought he had said something.
“Huh? What? Strange? No, I'm saying ‘wow’. The shots turned out great,” he forced a smile.
It wasn't obvious that Joonghyuk had fallen for it, so he held his gaze for a split second, which screamed that he didn't believe it, but quickly changed it to his usual expression. Dokja hates that because the look he gives you then is like he's taking your insides out. Joonghyuk moved closer to Dokja, quickly closing the distance, but still maintaining that damn polite distance.
He looked at Dokja with curiosity, folding his arms in his pants pockets: “Don't you want to discuss this case after that?”
Dokja froze, looking somewhere over his shoulder, unable to straighten up and look him in the eye. “Fuck.” He definitely didn't want to go anywhere with him and be alone at this point. He had to come up with an excuse. Any solid one. So Dokja blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
“Sorry, I have a date with my girlfriend,” he said in a slightly guilty voice, letting out an embarrassed laugh.
“I'm sorry, Uriel, I'll owe you one,” flashed through his mind. At the same time, Joonghyuk looked surprised, opening his mouth slightly in shock and stepping back a little. This was probably the only time Dokja had ever seen any emotion on his face. The man's lips first twisted in disgust, but quickly changed to a slight smile: “You have a girlfriend? Well, I'm not surprised, you're quite handsome, so that's something you definitely should have,” he patted Dokja lightly on the shoulder. “Then next time.”
Dokja nodded, watching him walk away, catching his breath and taking out his phone. A second later, he was already texting the unfortunate Uriel, whom he had dragged into this.
“Meet today at 3 p.m.?’
The message was read instantly, which he loved about her.
“Dokja wants to hang out? What a blast, no problem!!!!"
He ignored the visible sarcasm and the pile of emojis that followed. Let her do what she wants.
He felt like he was running out of air in this area, so he was ready to go home and work on his stuff. It was about six hours until they met, so he could go home and work on his stuff. Dokja regretted a little that he had dragged Uriel into this — she definitely didn't deserve to be in this drama. When he reached the house, he looked around and quickly entered the apartment. In those couple of hours, only one person had sucked the strength out of him, and he wasn't going to let it go.
Conversation with Uriel will definitely help him. However, no matter how many times he tells people, it doesn't lead to anything. Uriel, who has heard about it, may not tell him anything new, which leads him to believe that no one can give him a clear answer except Joonghyuk. But even he won't tell him anything. However, it was worth moving on to the best part of his plans: creating a blog.