Her |D.P.|

5.

HYEON-JU'S POV:

The blinds were half-closed, letting in slivers of the afternoon sun that cut across the cluttered desk. Park didn't waste time.

"His name is Choi Jun-mok," he began, pulling a file from the stack. "He's been gone for two months. I think he was abused in his unit, but we're not sure how. He was last spotted at a platform at Incheon Station. Tried to commit suicide there. Got it?"

Ho-yeol leaned against the filing cabinet with his arms crossed. "If it's been two months, you won't even have his access logs."

Park fixed him with a flat stare. "Did your mommy say you need that to catch deserters?"

Ho-yeol's mouth curved into a grin. "No, sir. It was my aunt."

That actually made me chuckle under my breath.

Park turned his attention to the far side of the room. "Gi-yeong!"

Private First Class Heo Gi-yeong slid back in his chair, fixing his glasses with a stiff nod. "Private First Class Heo Gi-yeong, sir."

"Get him a warrant," Park ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Go get it," Park said, this time looking directly at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho gave a sharp nod and left the room.

While he was gone, Park leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, his gaze shifting to me. "How's your father these days?" he asked casually, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. "You know my father?"

"We go way back," he said, as if that explained everything. "Haven't seen him since before you were born, I think."

I kept my expression neutral, but my mind was already turning. If he knew my father, maybe this assignment wasn't as random as I thought.

Jun-ho returned with the warrant in hand.

"We'll be off now, sir," Ho-yeol said, pushing himself upright.

But Park held up a hand. "Private Ahn Jun-ho!"

"Yes, sir!" Jun-ho straightened.

"Don't take this opportunity for granted. You're not going on a picnic."

"Yes, sir."

Then his gaze settled on me. "And Private Kim—don't think being your father's daughter means you get to coast. You're here to work, not to decorate the office."

"Yes, sir," I said evenly.

That seemed to satisfy him. He waved us toward the door.

A few minutes later, we were back in the locker room, swapping our fatigues for civilian clothes. Ho-yeol fussed over his shirt in the mirror, Jun-ho checked the case file one last time, and I tied my hair back. The weight of the warrant and Park's words hung in the air between us.

When we stepped out into the fading daylight beyond the base gates, the air felt lighter, freer, but I knew the work ahead wouldn't be.

——————

The air outside the base was colder than I expected. It carried that faint, sharp scent of gasoline and wet pavement, a smell that made me feel off. The streets weren't lined with trendy cafés or boutiques; they were narrow, a little grimy, with power lines crisscrossing overhead and shadows stretching between buildings like long, dark fingers.

We walked in a loose line, Ho-yeol slightly ahead, Jun-ho to my left, and me just behind them. Sergeant Park's words from the office still echoed in my head. Two months gone. Abused in his unit. Tried to kill himself. The weight of it sat heavy on my chest, but I tried to push it aside. Dwelling on it too early would only mess with my focus.