The Prosecutor’s Office’s Proposal Chapter 206

The sound of Prosecutor Joo typing reached my ears, but no further messages were sent. Judging by the way his index finger firmly struck the keyboard every now and then, it seemed he was continuously hitting the backspace key to erase what he’d written and start over.

However, it appeared he couldn’t come up with a valid excuse, as no more notifications popped up. I was annoyed that he’d sent that message, but I was also irritated by the silence. Even if I was being prickly and didn’t respond immediately, it would have been better if the person who made the slip of the tongue apologized a bit more.

I hate it when he messages, and I hate it when he doesn’t. I was slightly surprised at my own irrational behavior.

At lunchtime, I ate with the other investigators as usual. It was a tonkatsu restaurant I, as the youngest, had reserved.

I ran into Prosecutor Joo just as he was walking in with other prosecutors in front of the district office entrance after finishing our meal. He had a listless expression, but honestly, by then, my anger had evaporated for no reason. It wasn’t really something to be that upset about, but I think I’d felt a pang of insecurity because I was struggling so hard to navigate my interpersonal relationships. I looked at Prosecutor Joo without any malice, and he pressed his lips together tightly with a troubled expression before letting them part.

As the crowd moved along, he approached my side. He asked with his lips:

‘Still angry?’

‘No.’

‘You got over it already?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Victim mentality.’

‘What?’

It was uncomfortable trying to mouth words because of the people around us, so I had no choice but to take out my phone and text him. We were surrounded by chatting colleagues, but we became absorbed in the texts we were exchanging.

I just got sulky for no reason because of my victim mentality about not having friends.

Is that a confirmed analytical result?

Yes. Of course, it’s also true that you were being mean, Taeson.

I know. I was irritated because of Yoon Gyuho, and I’m sorry I was mean to you for no reason. I wasn’t specifically trying to attack you. My old habits came out.

Fix it.

Okay.

Only be mean to other people.

That’s easy.

You know I’m joking, right?

Of course. It’s actually kind of funny.

In the crowded elevator, I bit my lip and secretly swallowed a laugh. As we got off, I noticed Prosecutor Joo seemed to feel better after reconciling; the corners of his eyes, which had been strangely sharp all morning, looked a little less piercing.

📄🖊️

“Lee Mooncheol, the conclusion is suicide?”

It hadn’t even been a week since Lee Mooncheol died. Prosecutor Joo tilted his head at a sharp angle upon hearing the unexpected news from the investigator from Prosecutor Yoon Gyuho’s office who had come to deliver the documents. The investigator nodded in affirmation with a look of immense relief.

“Yes. There was absolutely no evidence of foul play, so it’s been processed as a stay of prosecution due to suicide. It’s fortunate.”

“Did you submit the approval?”

“Prosecutor Yoon likely submitted it yesterday.”

“What about the route through which Lee Mooncheol obtained the potassium cyanide?”

“That part hasn’t been grasped yet….”

A heavy voice cut off the investigator’s words.

“But how can you be sure it’s suicide? You can only conclude it’s suicide if Lee Mooncheol obtained the potassium cyanide.”

“It was revealed that he died immediately after paying for three days of motel fees after he fled. No one met Lee Mooncheol at the motel where he drank the poison, and his phone logs were clean. You have to meet someone to be murdered, after all.”

“What about the fabric fragment found on the soju bottle cap? Did you request a forensic test? I told Prosecutor Yoon about it separately.”

“We did the analysis, but we need a suspect to make a comparison…. It is true that he drank soju mixed with potassium cyanide.”

“What were the results of the fiber analysis?”

“The National Forensic Service says it’s not fiber, but animal fur. Fox fur.”

“Among the clothes owned by Lee Mooncheol, was there any clothing with fox fur attached?”

“That, I’m not sure….”

Prosecutor Joo’s questions were detailed and deep. It was clearly evident that his inquiries didn’t stem from mere curiosity, but from a doubt as to whether the investigation had been conducted properly.

As the questioning became persistent, the investigator’s voice began to shrink and fade. However, since I also felt that Prosecutor Yoon Gyuho had insufficient evidence to conclude Lee Mooncheol’s death was suicide, I was pretending to look at the documents while focusing my ears on the conversation between Prosecutor Joo and the investigator.

Prosecutor Joo asked next.

“Then how do you plan to proceed with the investigation into the funds Lee Mooncheol hid?”

“Since he only accepted and stored them in cash, there are difficulties in finding them…. Money received via account transfers was withdrawn in full every time. Most of all, the suspect is dead and the case is on hold, so…”

“The victims aren’t dead, though.”

Faced with the embarrassing question, the investigator’s face turned redder and redder as he barely managed to continue his answers before fleeing the prosecutor’s office like he was escaping. I could clearly picture how he would report it back to Yoon Gyuho.

Yoon Gyuho handles cases casually if they don’t help his career. That was a reputation well-known not just to Prosecutor Joo, but to everyone. Now that Lee Mooncheol was dead, there was no way to be recognized for the case even if they dug further, so it seemed he had even stopped the effort to find the hidden funds. The investigators under him might find Prosecutor Yoon’s methods convenient, but for the victims, it’s a disaster. Prosecutors have the power to bury cases.

Joo Taeson clicked his mouse with a dark expression, shook his head, and stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Chief Investigator Lee Chaeha, let’s go out for some fieldwork.”

“Yes, Prosecutor.”

I figured as much. I familiarly organized my desk, stood up, put on my bag, and followed him out. I looked up at him in the hallway.

“It’s not a case allocated to you, Prosecutor, what are you going to do?”

“Just confirm whether it really is suicide.”

“Do you think it’s not?”

“What do you think, Officer Lee?”

“He’s not exactly the type to commit suicide.”

“Why?”

“It’s rare for a ten-time repeat offender for theft and fraud to commit suicide while on the run for a fraud case. He didn’t commit a massive crime that would result in life imprisonment. He has hidden money, he has friends in prison; he could just endure it as a model prisoner for a few years and get out. If you have money, prison is livable enough.”

“My thoughts exactly. I really like you.”

We boarded the elevator to go down together. In the empty elevator, Prosecutor Joo lightly brushed the back of my head before looking up at the floor indicator as if nothing had happened. A ticklish warmth lingered on my hair, leaving a trace before disappearing.

We headed to the evidence storage room. Since Prosecutor Yoon had processed the stay of prosecution as of yesterday, I judged that the evidence would have left the prosecutor’s office cabinet. It was a gamble worth taking, as Yoon Gyuho wouldn’t have handed it over if he still had it.

When we wrote down the case number and requested to view the evidence, the staff member checked Prosecutor Joo’s prosecutor identification and tilted his head.

“You are not the prosecutor in charge.”

“Yes, I am the prosecutor who performed the autopsy on the unidentified body. It doesn’t matter if the prosecutor in charge knows.”

Thanks to his nonchalant reaction, as if he had nothing to hide, he even gave off the nuance that the consultation with the prosecutor in charge had already ended. After checking my ID as well, the staff member guided us to the place where Lee Mooncheol’s personal effects were sleeping, then left us.

Breathing in the dusty air of the evidence storage room, I opened the plastic bag on the table. The bag that had been tied to the scooter’s luggage rack, Lee Mooncheol’s wallet, phone, seal, and cards were all stored haphazardly. It was a method of organization that Prosecutor Joo would never have tolerated. My gloved fingers pried open the bleached faux-leather wallet and pulled out a stack of bills. It was quite a large amount, all in 50,000-won notes.

“There’s an overdue payment notice?”

I unfolded the document I’d found in the front pocket of the bag and handed it to Joo Taeson. He quickly read the writing on the paper with a serious gaze.

“He took out a private loan.”

“Given the multi-billion won in damages, he should have had enough hidden funds, so why did he take out a private loan?”

“Gambling?”

“Or maybe he stored the money in a place where it’s difficult to procure it immediately. I don’t even know if he really buried it in a cornfield.”

“That’s a possibility. There are many such cases. According to his accounts, there are only records of withdrawals, and there are no traces of deposits made to his family.”

I checked the date on the loan collection notice. It was about a month before Lee Mooncheol died.

It was a recent debt. My suspicion tilted once more toward the possibility that he had hidden the money in a place difficult to access. I conveyed the information I remembered to Prosecutor Joo.