Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(36)

“It wasn’t an active decision,” Jihoon said. The detective frowned and he added, “Sir.”

“Do you realize you’re in a fair bit of trouble?” Detective Hae glanced down at a paper in his hand. “Ahn Jihoon.”

Jihoon turned to his manners. “I understand, sir.”

“The store owner also says you weren’t alone.”

Jihoon nodded; something about this detective made it infinitely harder to lie. “No, sir. But I’ve confessed.”

“Yes, you are the one who’s confessed.” Detective Hae said this in a way that made Jihoon think the man saw right through him. “The store owner wanted to press charges.” The detective spoke in a lecturing tone. Jihoon bristled at it, but kept his head bowed in respect. “However, your halmeoni was able to change his mind.”

For the first time, Jihoon felt fear. His eyes darted around the police station, looking for his halmeoni with more apprehension than he’d felt at the previous officer’s harsh interrogation.

The detective let out a chuckle, which brought Jihoon’s eyes flying back to the man.

“It’s good to see you respect her. Your halmeoni is quite a woman. It’s a pity her reputation might be tarnished by this.”

Now tendrils of guilt curled through Jihoon. This wouldn’t affect the restaurant, would it?

Then he processed the rest of the detective’s words. “You know my halmeoni?”

“I met her on my first case here. She strikes me as a good and strong woman who doesn’t accept foolish behavior. I feel like any punishment your halmeoni will give is worse than what we could. Since there aren’t any official charges, when she gets here you’re free to leave.”

Jihoon nodded and watched the door, trying not to fidget.

His phone beeped and he jumped in his seat before he glanced down at the message from Somin: I heard you’re at the police station. What’s going on?

Jihoon hesitated before typing back. He usually told Somin everything, but this time he couldn’t. If she knew he’d taken the fall for Miyoung, she’d have questions he couldn’t answer. It felt strange lying to someone who knew he wet the bed until he was seven.

Don’t worry, he typed back.

She replied so quickly, he wondered if she’d pre-typed her message: Why won’t you tell me? Are you mad at me? Have I done something wrong?

Guilt spread through his chest.

Don’t worry, he typed again.

The message bubble floated on his screen so long he wondered what kind of book Somin could be typing. Then it disappeared. No reply.

Detective Hae closed a file with a slap and threw it on top of a dozen others. The precarious stack toppled over. Jihoon bent to pick the papers up when the words animal attack caught his eye. The folder was thick, stuffed with dozens of reports, maps, and photographs. The top report looked like a witness account.

Two salarymen out for drinks. Stumbling drunk. One of them decided to hop the wall around the forest and got dragged away by something.

Jihoon’s mind raced as he remembered an overheard conversation the morning after he’d first met Miyoung. A detective talking to Halmeoni about an animal attack.

“That’s not for you to read.” Detective Hae held out his hand for the file.

Jihoon handed over the stack. “I remember you now. You came by the restaurant to warn us about the animal attacks. Did they find out what did it?”

“I can’t answer questions about an ongoing investigation.”

Jihoon nodded. He didn’t need more answers. Ongoing meant that they hadn’t found the culprit.

“Ahn Jihoon!”

He winced at the sound of Halmeoni’s voice, forgetting the report and all thoughts of murdered salarymen. Murder seemed like nothing when faced with his halmeoni’s rage.





15





MIYOUNG SLUNK INTO the house, slipping off her shoes, and let her backpack drop from her shoulder in the middle of the room. The clutter would annoy her mother, but she didn’t have the energy to carry everything upstairs right now.

She dropped onto the couch, planting her face into the soft pillows. Her eyes burned with tears, and she shoved her face deeper into the pillows to catch them.

She shouldn’t have left Jihoon.

He liked to do idiotic things, but that didn’t mean she had to let him. He was so infuriating. She punched her fist into the pillows beside her head.

She kept remembering the anxious concern on Jihoon’s face as he’d told her to run. It felt odd to think it had been for her. More unsettling was that she’d accepted his help without a second thought. In that moment, when she’d fled, she’d trusted him.

Miyoung rolled onto her back, staring at the great vaulted ceiling. Through the skylights shone the moon, days away from full. It pulled at her hunger, magnified it. So deep and painful she wanted to curl into herself.

At the sound of feet on the stairs, Miyoung sat up quickly. She smoothed out her messy hair and stood.

“Mother, you’re home.”

“Were you crying?” Yena stood at the base of the stairs, assessing Miyoung with sharp eyes.

“Of course not.” Miyoung fought the urge to wipe her hands over her cheeks to search for tears.

“What happened?”