A spacious pub.

People are chatting noisily.

A reunion of thirty-year-olds, a gathering of the successful. Those who have achieved nothing don’t even bother showing up.

“...So you’re the one treating us, right? You got promoted, didn’t you? Sergeant or something?”

“Not sergeant, inspector. Sergeant is Haesu.”

“Oh right, Haesu is a cop too? So what’s the deal, how many ranks are between you two?”

“Why do you even ask that? Haesu got in through the entry-level police exam, and Namcheol is a Police Academy graduate.”

Namcheol, a Police Academy alumnus, glanced at Shin Haesu with a smirk and began counting with his fingers.

“Haesu is a sergeant. Above that are lieutenant, captain, then inspector—three ranks. Won’t take long.”

“Three ranks? That’s a big deal, isn’t it? In the military, it’s like the difference between a private and a battalion commander. Haesu, are you sure it’s okay to sit at the same table as Namcheol?”

Haesu didn’t even glance at the classmates teasing him. He silently downed his drink.

Seeing this, Namcheol chuckled and took charge of the mood.

“Hey, hey, what’s with this? It’s a reunion, after all. Besides, Haesu just missed his promotion today, so don’t pick on him.”

“Oh really? You got promoted, but he didn’t? Must feel like crap.”

Bang!

Just then, someone slammed a beer glass down hard. The sound drew everyone’s attention.

A man in a black suit with a long scar across his forehead—Hwang Jangsu, Haesu’s close friend.

He leaned in with a menacing look but smiled broadly.

“Friends, let’s keep it pleasant on such a good day, huh?”

Those who had lived ordinary lives stood no chance against Hwang Jangsu’s aura, forged from a life in the underworld. They quickly backed off and averted their eyes.

Even Namcheol was intimidated by his presence, though as a senior-ranking officer, he couldn’t show fear.

“Hey, hey, why’s it so tense? I got promoted today! Drinks are on me! Cheers!”

“Oh, oh! As expected of Namcheol!”

“We’re counting on you today, Namcheol!”

The classmates, who had been on edge, hurriedly agreed and the atmosphere naturally softened.

Haesu, however, remained seated alone, quietly sipping his drink. At that moment, Hwang Jangsu approached and sat next to him.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Hwang Jangsu had trained at the same gym as Haesu. In high school, they were inseparable, often called “Twin Hands.”

The reason Haesu, who had never attended reunions, came this time was to see for himself whether the rumors were true—that his once-close friend, Hwang Jangsu, had abandoned his career as a Boxxer to become a gangster.

Seeing him in person, Haesu felt more deflated than angry or disappointed.

Without looking at him, Haesu muttered.

“I don’t share a table with gangsters.”

Hwang Jangsu’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but he quickly relaxed his expression and replied.

“...Yeah, it doesn’t look great for a cop and a gangster to share a table. But I’ve heard something, so I can’t just let it go.”

He placed his business card on the table and slid it toward Haesu.

“If you’re ever strapped for cash, call me. No interest for a friend.”

Haesu’s brow furrowed deeply. He drained his drink and slammed the glass onto the table.

“Even if I starve to death, I won’t touch gangster money. Leave.”

Hwang Jangsu stared at him for a moment, then stood up.

“...Alright, I got it.”

As Jangsu left, Haesu grabbed his business card and immediately crumpled it.

Some time passed, and this time Namcheol approached.

“You still freeloading at Chaeyeon’s place?”

“Are you her big brother or something?”

“Are you really that broke? You want to keep living in your girlfriend’s cramped place?”

At Namcheol’s words, Haesu’s eyes flashed.

“How do you know it’s cramped?”

“Huh? Obviously, since she’s young, her place must be small. A rookie in society wouldn’t have a luxurious house, right?”

His words rambled. His gaze wavered. Something about it felt sleazy.

But Haesu wasn’t in the mood to fuss over petty annoyances today. He ignored him and poured another drink.

Namcheol, however, persisted in trying to get under his skin.

“Hey, isn’t your nickname the ‘Excessive Force Detective’? How long are you going to live like there’s no tomorrow? I heard you’re behind on settlements by thousands. Always getting pay docked. Want me to help?”

The hand holding Haesu’s glass froze. His sharp glare bore into Namcheol.

“There’s something dirtier than gangster money—it’s money from scum like you.”

Namcheol brushed his bangs back with his hand and said,

“Still... same as in high school, full of pride with nothing to show for it. After seven years of working, shouldn’t you know your place by now? That’s why your life’s such a mess. Someone like you doesn’t deserve Chaeyeon.”

Crunch.

The beer glass in Haesu’s hand shattered. He stood up, blood dripping from his hand, and reached out to straighten Namcheol’s collar.

“Namcheol, know your limits. A guy with so much to hide shouldn’t mess with a cop.”

Namcheol flinched but couldn’t brush off Haesu’s hand. In hindsight, he realized Haesu knew too much about his dirty secrets.

Failing a deserving candidate and getting into the Police Academy as a replacement, harassing a female colleague and letting only her face the consequences, and now using his father’s connections to leapfrog over better candidates for promotion—all of it was something Haesu happened to know.

No evidence, just a mad dog chewing away

The only reason he didn’t go all out and dig like a mad dog was that there wasn’t any evidence. If he really put his mind to dragging everything down in a mutual downfall, things would get messy. He had more to lose than this bastard did.

In the end, despite his expensive shirt being stained with blood, Namcheol was completely silenced, unable to say a word, like a mute who had swallowed a bitter pill.

Haesu patted his shoulder lightly and met his eyes.

“Thanks for the drink.”

Namcheol clenched his teeth as he watched Haesu’s retreating figure exiting the pub.

“That worthless bastard dares…”

Outside the pub.

Shin Haesu called for a designated driver and stumbled toward the parking lot.

“Phew…”

‘I’m just…’

Haesu had never seen his mother, and his father had been staged as a suicide victim over a decade ago.

After that, he became a police officer driven by the lofty goal of catching the criminal who murdered his father, but that sense of revenge and ambition had long since faded.

Now, he was just a detective drowning in debt.

He leaned against the car, lit a cigarette, and waited for the designated driver. Before he could finish his cigarette, a young man approached.

“You called for a designated driver?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… You got here fast.”

Haesu handed him the keys, climbed into the back seat, and closed his eyes.

On the way home, the driver glanced curiously at the photo attached to the car’s dashboard and asked, “Is that your wife?”

“Ah… girlfriend…”

Haesu briefly opened his eyes to answer and then closed them again.

“She’s pretty, slim legs, too…”

Haesu’s eyebrows twitched slightly. He didn’t feel good about it, but his head was spinning, so he ignored it.

Then, he heard the driver mumble, “That girl is way too good for you. The guy looks like a loser…”

Haesu’s eyes cracked open slightly.

“What did you say?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing. I didn’t say anything. Haha.”

Haesu frowned and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes again.

Shhhhhh—

As if to wash away his gloomy mood, a sudden downpour started to fall heavily.

He opened his eyes slightly and watched the rain pour down refreshingly. Then the driver spoke again.

“Your girlfriend must be good in bed, huh? She looks like she’d move her hips well…”

He hadn’t misheard earlier. This guy was clearly trying to provoke him.

“Hey, pull over.”

“What?”

Haesu kicked the back of the driver’s seat forcefully.

Bam!

“I said pull over!”

“Okay, okay. No need to yell.”

Screech—

The road was desolate. The car came to a stop on the shoulder, and Haesu roughly opened the door.

“Get out.”

“Alright, alright.”

Haesu got out of the car to take the driver’s place. But instead of stepping aside, the driver shoved Haesu and sneered, his expression darkening.

“Mister, were you in such a hurry to die?”

The man’s eyes turned cold as he slipped his right hand into his jacket. Was this premeditated?

“Don’t act tough. Just walk away.”

“Tch, this crazy bastard doesn’t even know he’s about to die!”

The man pulled something out of his jacket and lunged. Haesu, dazed from the alcohol and the pouring rain, couldn’t clearly see what it was.

On instinct alone, he dodged and swung his fist. If he’d been sober, he would have restrained the man, but for some reason, his fist lashed out instead.

Thwack—!

Even in his drunken state, Haesu’s punch carried its full force.

The driver’s body lifted slightly off the ground, then stumbled back several meters before collapsing with a groan.

Something fell from the driver’s hand, but Haesu didn’t see what it was.

“It’s not over yet…”

Haesu grabbed the man by the hair to haul him up, but stopped short. His body was limp. Lifeless.

Suddenly, the world went silent. Not even a faint groan could be heard.

Blood trickled from the back of the man’s head, pooling on the asphalt.

The back of his head was bleeding. Why? Haesu looked around and saw a guardrail, its end jagged as if torn. It must have been damaged in a previous accident, leaving sharp edges.

On one of those sharp edges was what appeared to be a piece of the driver’s scalp.

“Damn it…”

Haesu’s mind went blank. His body, still drunk, tried to sober up, leaving his head throbbing and his heart pounding. His breathing grew erratic.

He placed a hand on the man’s neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. He wasn’t breathing either.

His mind felt like it was about to explode. His thoughts were a chaotic mess.

“He’s dead…”

Regret washed over him, but it was too late. He glanced around and reached for his phone.

He dialed 119 and was about to press the call button.

Bzzzz Bzzzz

A call from an unknown number interrupted him. The timing was eerily perfect. As if hypnotized, Haesu answered the call.

Beep.

- “Hello, this is 88 Designated Drivers. I’m running a little late, but I couldn’t find you. Where are you?”

“...What?”

‘Then who the hell is this guy…?’