It was 8:42 p.m.
Seo Joon sat hunched on a hard bench in the lobby of the police station, eyes flicking to his phone every thirty seconds.
His suit jacket was wrinkled, collar damp with sweat.
He had come straight from the office, and the exhaustion sat on him like an invisible weight.
His right leg bounced, uncontrolled and nervous.
The police at the front desk didn't seem in any rush.
One scrolled on his phone.
Another cracked sunflower seeds, occasionally chuckling at something only he could see.
Seo Joon stood up and approached the counter for the third time.
"Excuse me, officer.
I—I reported a break-in at my apartment.
They said to come in and give a full report...?"
The man barely looked up.
Name?"
"Seo Joon."
The officer gave a tired nod and pointed at one of the desks inside.
"Sit. Officer Kim will take your statement."
Seo Joon nodded and moved over to where a younger officer sat, writing in a logbook.
Officer Kim glanced up.
"Theft case?"
"Yes."
Seo Joon said, sitting across from him.
"It happened last night.
I live in an apartment in Eunpyeong-gu southeast of Jihwa.
I stayed overnight at work, and when I got back this morning, the door was broken in.
Everything was turned over.
My laptop, ID, bank tokens... gone."
He took a breath.
Officer Kim waited, pen resting.
His voice cracked slightly.
"They took everything.
Even things that made no sense to steal.
My mom's urn.
Photos.
My external hard drive.
My neighbor said she saw two men leaving around 3 a.m., dressed in black.
I gave a description to the officer on the phone."
Kim nodded.
"Any security camera footage?"
"The CCTV in our hallway hasn't worked in over a month.
The landlord never fixed it."
"Any other witnesses?"
"Just the neighbor. She said she'd come if needed.
I—I can give her contact."
The officer scratched his head.
"Do you have photos? Insurance? Anything to document the items stolen?"
"I don't... I don't take pictures of everything in my house."
Kim looked sympathetic for a moment.
"I understand, but without something to go off, it'll be hard to follow up.
The best we can do is file it and mark the area for patrol—"
Seo Joon leaned forward, voice trembling.
"Please. This wasn't random.
They took things that meant something to me.
I don't know how they knew what to steal.
Why my apartment?"
Two officers nearby smirked.
"Maybe it's personal..."
One muttered.
"Guy gets robbed, shows up with no evidence, and wants CSI on the case."
The other one laughed.
"Probably left his door open."
Seo Joon turned red but said nothing.
Officer Kim sighed.
"Look, Mr. Seo.
I'll file this properly.
But unless something new comes up... there's not much we can do right now."
Seo Joon blinked, stunned.
"Right..."
He whispered.
Kim handed him a form to sign.
Seo Joon signed it slowly, feeling his hands go cold.
A few minutes later, he was being shown out the door.
Outside, the wind had picked up, and the air had the bite of early winter.
His phone buzzed again.
[Incoming Call: Department Head – Kwon]
He answered.
"Mr. Seo!"
Came the sharp voice.
"You were supposed to be back by now!"
"I'm sorry, sir.
There was an emergency—"
"I don't care.
If you're not here by 10:30 to finish the pitch deck and asset backup, your salary gets docked.
And don't expect leniency next quarter."
Click.
Seo Joon stared at his screen.
A gust of wind blew his tie across his shoulder.
He began walking toward the bus stop, bag slung across his chest.
The road was empty.
The bus schedule board flickered.
No buses in sight.
From behind him came laughter.
Three officers exited the station, still in uniform.
"There he is..."
One of them chuckled.
"The guy whose goldfish was stolen."
"Or was it his dignity?"
Another added.
The third officer, tall and grinning, cracked open a canned coffee.
"Here, let me help you wake up."
He hurled the half-full can.
Thunk.
It hit Seo Joon square on the temple, splashing lukewarm coffee across his cheek and soaking into his collar.
The can rolled into the gutter with a hollow rattle.
The officers howled with laughter as they walked away.
Seo Joon stood still.
His shoulders shook.
But not from crying.
From restraint.
He wiped his face with his sleeve.
The cold coffee burned more than the warmth ever could.
And still... he said nothing.
...
Because the police didn't listen to me or even try to help, I ended up being late for work.
And because of that... my salary for that month got cut off completely.
To make things worse, it affected the rest of my team too.
All five of us.
Their pay got slashed in half.
I still remember the complaints, the arguments, the resentment.
But Minjae stood up for me.
His voice still rings in my ears.
"You're crying about your salary being cut in half, but what about Seo Joon?
He won't get anything!
And he worked harder than any one of you.
He has expenses too!
He bleeds the same as you!"
Because I didn't get my pay, I got evicted from my apartment.
It didn't end there.
The landlord accused me of hiring goons to trash the place.
Said I faked the entire break-in to avoid paying rent.
My debt from loans got stacked higher, and the loaners came fast.
They even tried to auction off what little property I had left.
I had no choice.
I stayed with Minjae for a while.
But eventually, I started sleeping at my desk in the office.
I'd clean myself in the shared facilities late at night, when no one was around.
The janitor from the floor below saw me once.
He didn't say anything.
Just gave me a nod and never reported it.
I think he understood. Maybe he'd been there too.
Looking back now ... I get it even more.
Why I hate people who have power and choose not to help.
Why I hate people who sit in authority, in their desks, with their titles and empty smiles.
Not just police officers.
Government officials.
Bank clerks.
Inspectors.
It's like they all come from the same sick mold.
Like a disease passed from person to person.
And here, in this new world—even among the Demonic Faction—I see it again.
The same disease.
I held my sheathed sword and stood up from the seat.
Doyeong and his assistant stared at the body.
The other man—the one who dared mock the Pavilion—was now headless.
Blood still pooled at his feet, staining the fine wooden tiles.
I extended my sheathed blade and pointed the tip right at Doyeong's forehead.
"The Moon Pavilion doesn't need men like you."
My voice came out cold.
"You beat and wounded another investigator.
Someone who was only doing his job.
Someone who was trying to help people of our sect.
The only reason you'd silence a man like that... is if you had something to hide."
Doyeong didn't answer.
But his throat moved.
"You thought a little hierarchy would protect you?
That because you're a senior, no one would question you?
That your fists give you the right to bury a case that touches your own filth?"
The blade remained steady between his eyes.
"As Chief Overseer of the Moon Pavilion, I have every right to arrest you.
For obstruction of investigation.
For abuse of rank.
For misconduct within the Pavilion walls."
My eyes narrowed.
"And if I find out you're tied directly to that cannibalism case in the Wuhwa Village, I won't hesitate.
I will take your head.
Here. Now."
I leaned in just a little closer.
"Don't think that just because you have the backing of the Poison Queen, one of the Eleven Supreme Demons, that I'll cower."
His eyes widened slightly.
"You think I won't dismember her disciple?
Let me tell you something.
If I so do find out that the Poison Queen herself was responsible for the incident in our sect...
I wouldn't hesitate to arrest her myself."
My voice never raised.
That made it worse.
Doyeong looked at the blade so close to his forehead, right above the bridge of his nose.
But he didn't move.
He didn't blink.
I pulled the blade back.
"Since you're so diligent, I'll give you new work.
There's 50,000 nyang missing from the Moon Pavilion's archives.
You have a week.
Report your findings in person."
Doyeong and his assistant immediately bowed, fists to palms, eyes lowered.
I turned.
Walked away.
As I reached the doors, I didn't need to look back.
I could feel his glare.
Doyeong was gritting his teeth, rage twisting his face as he stared at my back.
But I didn't stop.
The rot doesn't clean itself.
So I'll be the one to cut it out.
***
After leaving the West Wing of the Moon Pavilion, I hadn't taken more than a few steps when a familiar figure approached.
He wore the same brown and black uniform that marked all members of the Pavilion's investigative corps.
Though his gait was stiffer, wearier.
A bandage was visible beneath his collar.
"Chief Overseer!"
He greeted with a respectful bow, the edges of his voice still carrying the weight of recent trauma.
"How's your comrade?"
I asked, stopping in front of him.
The wind blew gently past us, rustling the prayer streamers that hung above the courtyard walls.
"Thanks to your order, the physician treated him."
His voice lowered.
"He almost bled out.
Another hour and we would've lost him."
He bowed again, deeper this time.
"Thank you, Chief Overseer."
I studied him a moment, then asked.
"Then why come all this way?
I'm sure you wouldn't come just to thank me."
He hesitated briefly, then straightened.
"There's something you need to see."
As we walked, I let my thoughts wander.
Not aimlessly, but into the space I usually reserved for reflection and judgment.
I was no lawman.
In my past life, I pushed pixels and debugged AI, not criminals or corpses.
But maybe that was exactly why I could do this.
Maybe because I hadn't been trained like a hound, I could think like a man.
Common sense. Empathy. The will to listen, not just investigate.
And I had built this character—Nam Wolcheon—from the ground up.
I gave him cold eyes and a heart that beat only for justice.
But now that I lived in his skin, it turned out that heart was mine, too.
I could notice things others didn't.
Footprints within footprints.
Discrepancies in language, trembles in fingers.
The way guilt always settles in the throat, the way lies always take the long way around the tongue.
We reached the outer gate of the Moon Pavilion.
The courtyard here was quieter, wind whistling gently between wooden beams and ceramic tiles.
A few members stationed there, dressed in the brown and black robes of the Pavilion, stood at attention and bowed as I approached.
One stepped forward.
"Chief Overseer."
"What is it?"
I asked.
"During our sweep of the region near Gujin Stream, tied to the Cannibalism Pill investigation, we intercepted this carriage.
The men you see here were driving it."
He gestured, and I looked down.
Two men knelt on the ground, bound at wrist and ankle.
Sweat rolled down their brows.
heir skin twitched convulsed.
As I watched closely, I saw it.
Faint blue energy coiling under their flesh like smoke trapped beneath ice.
"They were force-fed the 'Root Severing Pill'."
I said aloud, recognition settling in.
"It devours meridians, cripples Qi circulation for at least a week—longer in weak martial artists.
Side effects include vomiting blood, mental disorientation, and in some cases… permanent spiritual degradation."
"Standard for criminal suppression."
I muttered.
"Continue."
The investigator stepped aside and gestured toward the carriage.
"What we found inside… narrows our case considerably."
I stepped forward.
The wind kicked up again, sending my black robes fluttering against my legs.
My hand instinctively tightened around the sheathed Yureum Blade.
The back of the carriage creaked as it opened.
And then I saw it.
Corpses.
At least nine.
Different ages. Different genders.
All drenched in drying blood, skin pale and slack.
The stench hit me like a wall—thick, metallic, rotten.
Flies danced in clusters above the bodies.
Their mouths were smeared red.
Some jaws dislocated.
Others had entire chunks of flesh missing, even from their own limbs.
And then—
My eyes fell on two small forms, crumpled near the center.
Two little girls.
Their faces still twisted in the fear that death had frozen them in.
Their tiny hands clutched each other.
My hand trembled slightly at my side.
I didn't blink. I didn't speak.
But something inside me cracked in silence.
This wasn't just an investigation.
This was rot.
A sickness so deep it was making monsters out of children.
I turned to the man beside me, voice colder than the evening wind.
"Seal the area.
Bring in the Scribes.
Every name connected to this carriage, I want it written by sunrise."
"Yes, Chief Overseer."
I looked back once more at the two girls.
This is what happens when power forgets its people.