COUNTING CRIMES | tk.

Prologue

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The streets of Seoul whispered secrets only the night could hear. Shadows danced in the dim glow of streetlights, casting an eerie veil over the city. Jeongguk knew these streets like the back of his hand, every alleyway a chapter in a book of his career. He leaned against the cold brick wall, the smoke from his cigarette mingling with the frosty air. He watched as the neon lights flickered, a silent reminder of the city's relentless pulse. It was past midnight, and yet the city never slept. Neither did he.

As a detective in the Seoul Metropolitan Police Department, Jeongguk was expected to uphold the law, to be the beacon of justice. He took another drag of his cigarette, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. It was a taste he had grown accustomed to, much like the taste of guilt that clung to his conscience like a shadow. But tonight, he pushed aside his guilt, burying it beneath the layers of apathy and indifference. Tonight, he has a job to do.

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk pushed himself off the wall and made his way down the deserted alley. His footsteps echoed in the silence, a hollow sound that seemed to mock his solitude. He walked with purpose, his mind focused on the task at hand. But no matter how hard he tried to drown out the noise, the whispers of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. As he rounded the corner, Jeongguk's gaze fell upon the scene before him—a group of men huddled together, their faces obscured by the shadows. He recognized them instantly—the criminals, the lowlifes, the scum of the earth. They were his informants, his sources of information.

"Detective Jeon," one of them greeted him with a nod, his voice barely a whisper.

Jeongguk nodded in return, his expression unreadable. He had learned long ago to keep his emotions in check, to wear a mask even in the face of danger. It was a skill he had mastered over the years, a defense mechanism against a world that sought to destroy him.

"What do you have for me?" Jeongguk asked, his voice cold and demanding.

The informant hesitated for a moment before speaking, his words cautious and deliberate. "There's been a shipment coming in tonight," he said, his eyes darting nervously around the alley. "Drugs, weapons, you name it. It's all there."

Jeongguk's jaw tightened at the mention of drugs and weapons. It was a familiar tale, one he had heard countless times before. But tonight was different.

Promotion. That was all that consumed his thoughts, his ambitions, his very being. The rank of inspector glittered like a distant star in the night sky, promising power, respect, and influence. And Jeongguk hungered for it with a ferocity that bordered an obsession. But ambition came with a price, a price Jeongguk was more than willing to pay. He had long abandoned any semblance of morality, trading his integrity for favors, his principles for opportunities. In the murky underworld of law enforcement, he had become a puppet master, pulling strings with finesse and cunning, manipulating outcomes to suit his desire.

"Where?" Jeongguk demanded, his voice a low growl.

The informant hesitated once more before revealing the location—a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Jeongguk nodded in acknowledgment, his mind already racing with possibilities. He knew what he had to do.