Chapter 17
Jan 1, 2026
Boy 1
I found my credit card.
Picture
Red
I can’t believe you left it there.
Boy 1
I’m blaming that chocolate cocktail you bought.
Red
I’m not. What are you doing?
Boy 1
Heading home. You?
Red
On the way to Pilates. Yesh yesh yesh.
Boy 1
My mum does Pilates.
Red
So now you’re comparing me to your mum?
Boy 1
I think I just figured out why I like you.
You’ve got a talent for twisting.
Red
Hahahahaha. You’re already addicted to my sarcasm.
Boy 1
Something like that.
Hey! it’s Pepero Day tomorrow. You expecting a bumper crop?
Red
I don’t want to talk about it.
Boy 1
I got fourteen last year.
Red
I think I’m going to the Philippines.
I want to stay away from couples.
Hey — I’m at Pilates. Chat later.
Boy 1
That was quick.OK. Good night. Enjoy.
“Detective, I think these two crimes might be linked.”
Detective Yang looked at Michael Han. He met his gaze directly. He hadn’t expected to find an ally here—let alone one echoing the exact words he’d used with his chief just hours earlier.
Yang had come only to try and find a way through the red tape surrounding the GU Electronics crime scene. He hadn’t expected cooperation on this level to be on the menu. Han’s opening sentence was so stark, for a second he wondered if this was a dream.
Had the chief spoken to him? Was this some joke? A quiet laugh between old schoolmates at Yang’s expense?
No. That wasn’t the chief’s style. He’d been dismissive of the idea, he’d only allowed Yang to pursue it to shut him up.
Which left one possibility: Han actually believed what he was saying.
“You’re saying you think the gallery and the hole in your wall are connected?”
“I think the same person is responsible for both.”
“Sounds improbable.” Yang kept his voice flat. You never let the victim speculate, even when you suspect they’re right.
“The papers think the gallery attack was a statement,” Han continued. “Anti-capitalism. Excess. The gallery belongs to one of our affiliates. Do you know how many people attack this company as a symbol?”
“I passed a group of old women shouting through megaphones on my way in.”
“Detective, you’re missing my point.” Han leaned forward slightly. “Two crime scenes mean twice the evidence. Twice the chance of finding who put a hole in my wall.”
“That’s only true IF they’re linked. If this was a message against corporations, the hole didn’t land. No one saw it.”
“My people secured the site faster than he expected. That’s why the second act was louder. More public.” Han paused. “You know your chief wants me kept informed.”
“Have you told him this theory?” Yang asked. His tone was painfully neutral. He hoped Han would say ‘yes’. It would make things easier.
“I’ve only just returned from a family vacation.”
“Then maybe you should tell him. If he thinks there’s weight to it, we’ll pursue it. Otherwise, I’ll work the one crime I'm assigned to.”
Yang didn’t like Han. He didn’t like the way he spoke, as though Yang were a rookie. He didn’t like the suits, the perfect knots. Any man with that much time to get dressed in the morning couldn’t be trusted. He wasn’t about to give Han the satisfaction of agreement. Instead, Yang made a mental note to check Han’s whereabouts on the night of the first crime. It was absurd—the idea that a man would smash his own building—but absurdity was no reason to ignore a hunch.
“Thank you, Mr. Han. I’ll be on my way. If my chief likes your idea, I’m sure I’ll hear about it.”
He turned so quickly that Han’s reply died before it reached his mouth.