Mr and Mrs Sim ⋆ s.jake

Chapter 28

Jaeyun's pov

Long minutes, possibly hours, dragged by.

The interrogation room was pitifully bare for someone of my standing. I didn't expect the cops—at least the uncorrupt ones—to roll out the red carpet, but some respect wasn't too much to ask. Lifeless gray walls, a steel table I was cuffed to, and two chairs more suited for torture than comfort. Above me, not God, but a camera blinking red, recording my every move with shameless voyeurism. And across sat Warner's Korean doppelgänger, watching like he had all the time in the world. His attention mainly focused on my shirt, still damp and sticky with William's blood.

He perfectly embodied the type of man who, unable to become a modern-day Sherlock Holmes, settled for being a cop. The consequences of overestimating his own masculinity were starting to show—this son of a bitch was trying to intimidate me into confessing. You're not a fucking priest, and I'm not some guilty criminal. I know the ropes, and Kim will have me out of there before you can compare sizes.

His eyes, as sharp as a cat's, analyzed the bloodstains—the way they soaked into the fabric, their size, the shades of oxides they were gradually turning, and countless other details that would eventually prove my innocence. He flipped his dirty-blond hair back, the veins on his neck pulsing, clearing his throat.

"You know, Sim Jaeyun," he said, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm well aware of who you are. Your arrogance, as pointless as it is, is written all over your face." The calculated edge in his voice grated on my nerves. I kept my composure, my jaw tightening in silent frustration. A cold gleam flashed off the glasses perched uselessly on the tip of his nose.

"Do you see my lawyer here? Speaking without him would be a mistake on my part, but that's not the issue. What I want to know is your name. You're making a serious mistake, Detective." Courtesy was my watchword. Any excess could make Kim ditch me in the mess Rose had gotten me into by letting me get arrested—I didn't expect anything less from my so-called brother, the one who'd called the police in the first place.

"Yang. Yang Jungwon." He crossed his arms, his expression stern and unyielding, like a dictator surveying his subjects. Dicktator. "Looks like we'll be here for a while. Traffic's a mess, so I doubt your lawyer's going to make it anytime soon." A solid assumption—probably the only one he's gotten right so far. I forced a smile. The nightmare wasn't over yet, so I got comfortable, spreading my legs casually and resting my reddened wrists on the cold table, as if that would make this whole farce any less unbearable.

"You're a lawyer, right? Your word is justice, or so they say. So if it wasn't you who stabbed Kim William, which I'm willing to entertain for now, then who did it before placing the knife in your hands?"

"The Holy Spirit, or maybe just his madness. He was grieving his cousin, Officer Jeon. You know, the one from the same precinct you work in."

Yang's gaze suddenly darkened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fist.

"Did you know Jeon personally?" I felt the trap closing in on me. I never thought anyone would get this close to the truth—not even Rose. Ferme ta gueule, Jaeyun. "I just remembered how badly he used to talk about you, Sim," he asserted, a victorious smile sharpening the dimples in his cheeks as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his uniform pocket.

"Hm. No, but my wife told me the story, which she got from her friend—dear Willy. Rest in peace." I muttered a silent prayer heavenward, forcing my cuffed hands into the shape of a cross. Crève en enfer avec ton putain de cousin.

Yang pretended to believe in my faith, lighting his first cigarette with a lighter marked by the faint imprint of red lipstick. An acrid smell of smoke filled the room, making my nose twitch. I was an occasional smoker myself, yet I'd never felt such an urge to wreck my lungs with something so toxic.