Chapter Text
Seoul, 1947
Ah, there it is. Jungkook smiles triumphantly as he stares at the small article about the Zombie of Chungnim-chong, a serial killer that has been terrorising Seoul for months now. It takes up less than half a column near the sports news in the Chosun Ilbo and gives at best vague information. But that is because he had not written the article himself. He carefully starts tearing it out, it’s on one of the back pages so no one will miss it, at least that’s what he hopes.
"What are you doing, Jeon?" The gravelly voice makes Jungkook come up too fast and he bumps his head on the shelf above the stack of papers. He rubs it, trying not to curse.
Fucking Changho. That guy was like a pest, always turning up where he wasn't wanted.
"Just looking for a paper from last week." He will not tell that idiot what he is on to. He decides to come back for the article later, when the office has emptied out for the evening. For now he sidles past the older man who doesn’t move an inch, as if he thinks that if he traps Jungkook in a dark corner of the office he could… what? Sit on him until Jungkook reveals his information?
Ha, as if that would ever happen. Let that old bastard go back to his desk littered with greasy paper bags and an overflowing ashtray, where all he does every day is read the sports section of the rival newspaper to see what horses he could bet on.
"If you’ll excuse me, Changho-sunbaenim," Jungkook mumbles and pushes past the other man, who has no choice but to step back. Jungkook hurries past the door that leads to the office bathroom, where the air always smells a bit pungent, and then makes a beeline for his own desk to check if one of the girls from the front desk had left him a message.
The only thing that is there is a note that says that the Jeju Noodle Bar has a special today and he should come by to try it. Jungkook’s eyes light up when he spots the message. It can only mean one thing - Jimin wants him to come by because he has some kind of information for Jungkook. They had agreed on a code for their interactions rather than exchanging news in letters because Jungkook was sure that half of his colleagues were trying to read them up against the light when he wasn’t in the office.
He grabs the note and his leather bag, that has seen better days, and races out of the office, hoping to not only escape his coworker but also his boss. He can already see the door to the stairwell when a deep voice stops him in his tracks.
"Not so fast, young man. Where are you off to?"
Jungkook rolls his eyes in frustration, trying not to let his exasperation show on his face as he slowly turns around to look at his boss.
"Just going for lunch, Namjoon hyung."
"It is almost 5pm." Sharp dragon eyes narrow and seem to stare straight into Jungkook’s soul.
"Well, I … there’s a special in the Jeju Noodle Bar that I really want to try."
"Are you done with the article on the mayor’s assembly to discuss the funding for the new city hall?"
"The assembly …yeah, I will go to that right after my lunch." Jungkook nods eagerly, it wouldn't do to annoy his boss. Namjoon seldom raises his voice or gets too strict with any of the reporters working for him, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't able to assert his authority as the editor in chief of the newspaper.
He takes a step backwards, then another.
"Promise. I’ll go straight after I’ve eaten." One hand is clutching Jimin’s note and his bag, the other is feeling for the handle of the door that leads to the staircase. If he could just make his getaway. He doesn't have time for this— he has somewhere to be.
"Jeon Jungkook. The mayor’s assembly was yesterday, you were supposed to attend it." Namjoon’s voice thundered through the room, making everyone but Jungkook shrink behind their desks, hoping that they would not attract any of the ire of the editor in chief.
"Right, okay. Sorry, I must’ve forgotten. I’ll see you later, hyung."
Jungkook pulls open the door and disappears through it, taking the stairs two at a time, trying to put as much distance between himself and the newspaper office as he could. He feels a tiny bit guilty for not having written the article that Namjoon had wanted him to, but then he pushes the thought aside, concentrating on more important things. Fuck Chan-ho and his nosiness, that guy never gets anything done yet is forever butting into other people’s business.
Jungkook really needed to find the article from last week. Oh well, he will have to go back to the office after he has spoken with Jimin.
So much for making it home early tonight.
The thought makes him scoff. He doesn't have a home, just a rented room in an old pre-war house. At least the ajumma he rents from seems to like him well enough and leaves him food out a lot of the time. Her cooking isn’t the best but Jungkook is not fussy. Food is food, and if he won't have to make it himself, that is even better.
With a quick look around he nips around the corner of the building, into the narrow alley adjoining it. The walls on either side are made of rough bricks, weathered by decades of being exposed to smoke and soot, a few metal bins are pushed further down, the stench coming off them making him hold his breath for a minute. Lucky for him he doesn't have to go too far. He left his bicycle nearby in the morning, pushed just far enough into the narrow space that it can't be seen from the road. Dragging it out now, he frowns at the chain connecting the pedals to the back wheel, hoping it will at least get him as far as the noodle bar, he really can't afford to be late.
Jimin must have called to leave a message a good while ago and time is of the essence.
He rolls up his pant leg before hopping on the rusty old bike. One day, when he earns more than the pittance the paper pays him now as a junior reporter, he will buy a new bike. For now, this trusty old heap of junk metal is gonna have to do.
Jungkook glances around again, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. People are hurrying past, most of them probably on their way home. A couple of elderly women push a two-wheeled cart loaded with vegetables, their faces deeply lined, their expressions tired. On any other day he would've loved to take their photo to add to his collection. Maybe asked them a few questions as well. They are part of a past that is quickly disappearing and with it the old customs and stories. Tales about creatures that are not entirely human, that sometimes came into the villages late at night, shadows so black that only a shiver of fear ever announces their presence.
His fingers are itching to take out the camera he had bought not so long ago. His pride and joy - a Kodak 35 camera that he has spent months saving every won for. But right now is not the time. Right now Jimin is waiting for him. He gives the women one last look, watching them disappear into the slowly rising mist that comes from the river and hops on his bike.
Wispy tendrils of fog follow him, not the opaque white mist that rises from the Han in the evenings, rendering the streets and houses into milky shapes that are barely visible. This one is black, crawling over the cobblestones, clinging to the dark corners that lead to deserted alleys, always moving, watching, seeking. The fog is stealthy, quiet, ever present, looking for someone to cling to and it has found Jungkook.
‧ ₊ ˚ ✦ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ .
"What took you so long, I left that message hours ago?" Jimin stares at Jungkook with a raised eyebrow and a slightly annoyed huff. "I’m risking my life to get you information and you don't turn up for ages. What if it’s too late now?" Jimin says with a slightly petulant whine.
“Sorry, I was stuck in the office, looking for an article from last week." Jungkook takes off his bag and leaves it on the counter only to remove it and put it behind him on the chair when Jimin gives him another sour look.
The Jeju Noodle Bar, a name Jimin insists is stupid because it is confusing people, is a hole-in-the-wall diner on a busy street near Yongsan Police station. The clientele is mostly cops, a fact that Jimin never fails to bemoan. He seems to hate them but also shamelessly flirts with the better looking ones. Sometimes Jungkook hears whispers that Jimin would … do things for information but he is almost certain that this is nothing but a nasty rumor.
"Did you eat?" Jimin asks Jungkook, already scribbling something on a greasy notepad without waiting for an answer.
"Egg?" He looks up briefly.
Jungkook nods.
"Spam or pink sausage?"
"I’ll have…"
"Pink sausage." Jimin licks the tip of the pencil before continuing to write.
"Can I have…"
"Extra seaweed flakes and make it spicy, I know." Jimin keeps scribbling.
"You could just write out the order without asking me." Jungkook takes a napkin and tries to rub off a stain on the counter. He hates anything messy and this place is not really, well…pristine. But on the other hand, he never has to pay for his food so he can put up with the smokey air and the tables that need to be wiped clean but aren’t.
Jimin turns to the hatch that connects the dining area with the kitchen and Jungkook watches his body almost disappear into it as the other man contorts himself to put the order slip on the kitchen counter.
A wolf whistle shrills through the air and Jimin extricates himself from the small window, staring at the offender sitting at a table in the back with a disdainful look before he turns back to Jungkook.
"So, guess what I found out?" Jimin looks like a cheshire cat, licking cream off his whiskers.
"I don't know, hyung. Why don't you tell me." Jungkook stares at the menu that he knows inside out, trying to figure out if he wants coffee or a soda with his order of noodles.
"You know, it greatly disturbs me that you are saying this to me without even a trace of sarcasm." Jimin looks at the younger man with something akin to pity, but Jungkook doesn't take offense.
Park Jimin is his best, and really his only, friend since coming to Seoul. They make an unlikely pair - the country bumpkin from Busan and the city boy with a turbulent upbringing, yet their connection is close. Jungkook has long gotten used to the snarky remarks the older man seems to consider his only mode of communication. And although his words often hold a certain bite, when he talks to Jungkook they are never mean.
The same could not be said when Jimin speaks to the patrons of the Jeju Noodle Bar, a dark and greasy establishment that serves excellent food and shady business in the tiny backroom. Only Jungkook seems to find it strange that most of that barely legit business is conducted by members of the police force.
"What is it?" Jungkook looks expectantly at Jimin, who is still staring at the man he addressed a moment ago. "Hyung."
"Hmm, what?" Jimin turns to him but Jungkook can tell that he is still not entirely focussed. Oh well, this isn't anything new. Jimin has too many irons in the fire most days to pay attention to only one of them and Jungkook doesn't even want to know about all of them.
"You said you found something out." Jungkook has decided on a strawberry bingsu to go with his ramen.
"Oh yeah, my sources tell me that they have arrested a guy today in the manhole murders case." Jimin murmurs somewhat conspiratorially, leaning across the counter and coming close enough to Jungkook that the younger man can smell the aftershave he is using.
Jungkook’s head comes up in surprise, almost knocking into Jimin’s nose.
"Who is it? Was there any word of who they arrested?"
The young reporter barely holds himself back from doing a victory dance. This is the breakthrough he has been waiting for. He had asked Jimin to put out his feelers to find out what information the police had on the guy that attacked his victims in secluded alleys, in the less affluent areas of town, sucked their brains out and then stuffed their bodies into a manhole with their faces pointing to the sky and their eyes wide open in a mockery of seeing the stars, even in death.
But that was weeks ago and no new information had surfaced. Jungkook had been almost ready to go to the police station to find out more, but he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. Right now there is no one willing to talk about the victims, and despite whatever it would have taken, he is prepared to find out more.
"Well," Jimin juts out a hip leaning against the counter, "the guy’s name is Jung Hoseok, he works as an accounting clerk in Hangun-dong and they say he is absolutely vicious and his eyes are blood red when he looks at you."
Jimin shivers before lighting up a cigarette and blowing the smoke in the air.
"Hyung, really? Those things will kill you." Jungkook shakes his head in exasperation. Although the other man is his only friend, if he is completely honest, he often struggles to understand him. They are as different as night and day, the only thing that he has established in the last two years is that Jimin is the kindest and warmest person he has ever met, although most of the time that kindness is buried under shameless flirting and cutting remarks.
"Something is gonna kill me, that’s for sure. No need to take the long road, is there?" Jimin takes another drag of the cigarette.
"You will outlive us all," Jungkook rolls his eyes at his friend’s words, "don't be so damn dramatic."
The bell behind them dings and signals the arrival of the strawberry bingsu. It is hands-down Jungkook’s favorite and the only way he can ever have it is because Jimin refuses outright to ever let him pay for it. His reporter’s salary doesn't stretch to any luxuries, especially since he has just bought a camera not so long ago.
"So, what else did you find out apart from the guy’s name?" Jungkook licks the spoon and has to stop himself from rolling his eyes in bliss. They would eat bingsu at home in Busan sometimes, but it only ever had honey drizzled over it and while it was nice, nothing could beat the flavor of this slightly weird and not entirely natural strawberry taste.
"Let me think. Oh yeah, they say he doesn't even talk properly, just growls when people approach him. It took five policemen to drag him to the station. Tonight they will transfer him to Seodaemun prison where they will put him in solitary confinement. To keep him away from the other inmates, because he might tear them apart with his bare hands."
The conviction with which Jimin utters those words makes Jungkook think for a moment that maybe there is something to it, that this Hoseok guy could actually be really terrifying.
"Did your… source… say what time they will transfer him." Jungkook looks at the watch on his wrist, noticing that it is almost 7pm.
Jimin looks at Jungkook with narrowed eyes. Sometimes he forgets that Jungkook is no longer the kid he had met four years ago. Granted, he is too innocent in some ways but in others … Jimin is almost sure that the rookie reporter knows exactly who his source is.
He turns and briefly glances at the clock up on the wall. "In about an hour at Yongsan Police Station. I don't know the specifics, but around 8pm was mentioned."
Or rather sucked out of Min Yoongi, a jaded asshole and homicide detective. Jimin really had to work for that one, the bastard had kept him dangling for almost half an hour, edging him without revealing anything useful. But Jimin has been in this game too long to be bested by a guy who thought he was morally superior only because he wore a badge. He wasn't wearing it when he buried his cock inside Jimin and his morals were as shady as any of the other guys Jimin had fucked.
He watches Jungkook shovel down the last of the dessert before the young man grabs his leather satchel and heads for the door.
"Kookie," Jimin calls him back.
"Yeah?" When Jungkook turns around he sees his friend hold out a pair of glasses to him.
"Thanks, hyung. I almost forgot."
"You need to keep them on, you know you can't see shit without them."
"I know, no need to curse, hyung. Thanks for the food. I’ll see you later."
He makes his way through the narrow gaps between the tables, trying not to knock down the bowls of noodles and bottles of soju people had come to indulge in. He opens the door, and turns to wave at his friend, noticing with a frown the man standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Had he seen him before? There is something familiar about him. Never mind, he has to rush, the police station is only around the corner, but what if they brought this Hoseok guy out earlier. He can't miss his chance to get a look at the Zombie of Chungnim-chong.
‧ ₊ ˚ ✦ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ .
"Did he take the bait?" The rough voice makes Jimin turn around and glare at the man in the doorway with contempt.
"I swear, if anything happens to him, I will kill you myself."
"You wouldn't have the guts, doll. Someone as pretty as you is all talk, you'd never go through with it." The smirk makes Jimin’s blood boil.
"You know nothing about me or what I'm capable of doing." Jimin has to take a deep breath and force himself to not land a blow to the handsome visage of the man looking him up and down as if he is nothing more than a piece of ass. The thought makes heat rise in his core. He loathed , absolutely despised the knowing smile on a face that is way too handsome to belong to someone so corrupt and despicable.
"I must get back to the station, but once the prisoner is transferred and the report handed in I’m free for the evening. I’ll see you later, doll. Make sure to leave your door unlocked."
"I’ll be busy later, don't bother coming over." Jimin spits out, no longer able to conceal the fury that is gripping him.
"You’ll be busy alright, I’ll make sure of it." The man turns away from the glare the waiter gives him.
"I hate you, Min."
"I know, doll. Makes fucking you interesting." The man flicks his half smoked cigarette into a trash can and saunters out the back door, not even ducking when Jimin throws a plate at his head, missing by a mile.