Her |D.P.|

6.

HYEON-JU'S POV:

By the time we pieced it together, the pattern was clear. Choi Jun-mok came alive at night. His activity spiked in the early hours, and we'd just uncovered something more. He'd created an ID using his girlfriend's information.

That trail led us straight to a PC room in the city centre, its neon glow spilling onto the empty street. Ho-yeol stepped up to the counter and flashed his handcuffs. "Military police," he said with a grin, jerking a thumb at us. "They're with me."

The woman at the desk nodded and let us through.

Inside, the air was thick with heat from the computers, a low hum of keyboards and muffled gaming sounds surrounding us. Ho-yeol moved ahead confidently, and before I could catch up, he gestured for me to stay back.
"Just watch," he said, as if my only contribution was to stand there and observe while they handled things.

It wasn't the first time he'd pulled that, but this time it stung.

They swept the rows of computers like hunters, scanning faces in the dim light. At one point, Jun-ho pointed towards Ho-yeol's and nodded toward a figure in the corner. For a moment, their body language said it all—they thought they'd found him. My pulse kicked up.

But when the guy turned, it was someone else entirely.

By the time the lead at the PC room fizzled out, I was just simmering in silence.

The next tip took us to the train station, last stop on the line. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered faintly, and the platform was deserted. On the far end, inside an empty carriage, we found him.

Choi Jun-mok sat slumped in his seat, eyes unfocused, swaying gently with the stillness of the train.

I stepped in first and sat across from him, meeting his blank stare. Ho-yeol and Jun-ho flanked him on either side, leaving him no space to retreat.

"Did you sleep well?" Ho-yeol asked softly.

Jun-mok blinked. "Where am I?"

"The last stop on this line," I told him.

He gave a faint nod. "Ah... then I guess this would be the end." His gaze lifted briefly, but it was far away, then it drifted, his eyelids falling shut.

"I'm sorry," Jun-ho murmured, pulling out the cuffs.

Jun-mok didn't resist. His breathing was slow, deepening as if the weight of his own exhaustion was too much to fight.

"What's on your mind?" Ho-yeol asked, his tone gentle now.

"...Just... that it's so comfortable here," he said, almost a whisper. Then he sank fully into sleep again.

Ho-yeol guided him carefully off the train.

——————

The bus ride back to base was quiet, the night pressing in through the windows. This time, Choi sat with us, his head tilted slightly toward the glass, still half-asleep.

Across the aisle, Ho-yeol's eyes kept darting toward the paper bag in Jun-ho's lap.
"Mcdonald's?" he asked hopefully.

"This is for Private Ho Gi-yeong," Jun-ho replied, pulling the bag closer.

"I know," Ho-yeol said, still staring at it like a starved dog.

I leaned forward from the seat behind them, smirking. "I don't know, Ho-yeol... I think you've got that look in your eyes. If you steal from the poor guy, I'm telling."

"My boiled eggs?" Ho-yeol pivoted instantly, holding out a hand.

Jun-ho sighed and passed them over, the ones we'd snagged from the sauna reception earlier. Ho-yeol unwrapped them with exaggerated delight, like they were some kind of delicacy.

Before I could tease him again, Jun-ho's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then turned to Choi. "It's your girlfriend."

Choi hesitated, then took the phone. A beat later, his voice cracked.
"Mom."

The tears came quick. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."

He kept repeating it, over and over, his face crumpling.

I looked away, blinking hard. My chest felt heavy. For all the chasing, the leads, the frustration...this was the part that got me every time. The raw, broken edge of someone's humanity laid bare.

No one said anything after that. The sound of the road filled the silence as the bus carried us back to base, the weight of the night settling in. We'd completed our task, but it didn't feel like a victory.

By the time we handed Choi over, the moment was already turning into memory, but his voice, small, apologetic, lingered in my mind.