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2008. The subprime mortgage crisis that erupted in the U.S. the previous year had unleashed a global financial storm. Just recently, an elderly man furious over inadequate land compensation had set a fire that destroyed Sungnyemun Gate, Korea's National Treasure No. 1. The tragic blaze had reduced the ancient structure to charred stones.
The fierce debate over ratifying the Korea-U.S. Free Trade Agreement was inseparable from 2008 as well. Gwanghwamun Square overflowed with candlelit protesters, and rumors of mad cow disease dominated every media outlet. In the U.S., Barack Obama became the first Black president, while news from North Korea intertwined with reports that Chairman Kim Jong-il was on death's door from a serious illness. And for me, it was the year I dramatically apprehended the perpetrator of the baffling Silver Stream Dong Blind Serial Murders and dragged him into court.
A monstrous crime that should never happen again. The suspect, Jo Jintae, had kidnapped, raped, and murdered thirteen female college students, yet he smirked without a hint of remorse as he was taken into custody. When that image hit the airwaves, the entire nation was plunged into shock.
I'd demanded the death penalty in the first trial, and today was the sentencing day.
"The verdict is pronounced."
The defendant, clad in a sky-blue inmate jumpsuit, glared at me with murderous intent. The bastard who'd been smirking from arrest through the first hearing finally changed his expression when he realized the public defender's pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
"It is hereby ordered that the defendant be sentenced to death."
"Waaaaah!"
"The sentencing is not over. Please remain silent."
The victims' families in the gallery cheered through hot tears. Korea was a de facto abolitionist state, so the sentence wouldn't be carried out. But in my 2018 life, the prick had rotted away in prison until then, so that was enough.
"Prosecutor, thank you. Thank you so much."
"No need. I only did my job. I'm sorry it took so long."
The families bowed repeatedly amid their tears. It was only my second time seeing it, but the heartbreaking scene still hit hard. After chatting with them, I returned to my office.
"Phew."
A sigh of relief escaped me. I'd nearly botched this crucial trial. Luckily, it was an unforgettable case even after all these years, and having gone back three days to review it again had saved the day.
Bzzzzt—
📞 Incoming CallYun Se-yeon Reporter
My phone buzzed the moment I stepped into the office. Yun Se-yeon, a reporter from the massive Iljungilbo daily. She was probably calling for an interview on the Jo Jintae case. Even back then, she was infamous in the criminal division for relentlessly chasing leads. She'd crash department dinners—somehow always knowing when and where—and pry info out of drunk prosecutors like it was nothing.
"Yun the reporter calling again?"
Oh Yanghun, my office manager, asked as I flipped the phone over. I nodded quietly, and he chuckled.
"Well, at least the sentence stuck without any reductions. Lucky break. I had good dreams last night."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"Prosecutor, got plans tonight?"
He mimed pouring soju and winked.
"How about some braised loach? My treat. I got a feeling this time. Heh heh."
"Aw, too bad. I've got prior commitments."
His "feeling" was what he always said after good dreams when buying lotto tickets. Oh bought them religiously every week. But up to 2018, he'd never won once. To me, he just didn't have the luck for it. He'd even missed by one number off the jackpot once, like the lotto gods were deliberately dodging him.
If I told him, he'd be crushed.
Lotto was one of his joys in life. No way I'd ruin it this early.
He wouldn't believe me anyway.
Living in the past while knowing every future wasn't as fun as it sounded. Even walking the prosecutor's office halls frayed my nerves. I knew everyone's futures as they brushed past me.
"Hey, Prosecutor Cha! Death sentence down, huh? Damn, that hits the spot."
"Hello."
"You look beat. Tough case, right?"
"Not at all."
"Haha, right. Good work today."
The head of the Trial Division No. 1—for 2008 standards. I'd once thought he was decent.
But he ended up cleaning up after rich chaebol daughters' screw-ups and kissing ass all the way to Yeouido.
Fifteen years in the prosecutors' office had taught me not pride, but disillusionment. Or more precisely, I still had some pride left until I tried to put Wooshin Group's chairman on trial. Maybe I believed even in this Wooshin Republic, we could bring the chaebol kingpin to justice.
But how did that last gamble turn out? Catching powerless crooks was easy, but the powerful ones? You had to let them walk—with eyes wide open—and pay the price for daring to touch a "power player."
In my case, that cost was fifteen years of built-up honor and my life. No matter how airtight I made it, I couldn't escape. If there were no flaws, they'd manufacture some. Public servants like us were held to impossible standards of neutrality and morality.
Staying in the organization meant I could do nothing. Reality.
Time to submit my resignation soon.
Since returning to 2008, I'd planned to wrap up the Jo Jintae case and leave the prosecutors' office. Ten years was plenty to fix the wrongs.
My arrogance in thinking the prosecution's power made it possible. My late parents. Everything else I'd lost. And Wooshin Group, the root of all that pain.
"Senior, hello. Heard you finally closed the Jo Jintae case. No wonder you look wiped."
The voice snapped me from my thoughts.
"Oh, Prosecutor Yoo. Long time no see."
"Pardon? We saw each other yesterday. Forgot already?"
"Did we?"
"Must be distracted. Makes sense, though. Heh heh. But that bastard Jo Jintae won't appeal, right?"
"Nah."
Jo Jintae wouldn't appeal. He knew it'd only tank public opinion further. To play model prisoner and snag any reduction, he couldn't afford to piss off the public now. Not that it'd help much anyway.
"Haha, good then. Unlike you, I'm in top form! Just got a confession out of a suspect."
"Nice."
"Bragging here, senior. Give me some praise. Haha."
This guy's getting posted to Tongyeong Branch and quits eventually.
He was a criminal division prosecutor now. Years later, he'd bust a major corporate hiring scandal, ignore orders to bury it, and pay dearly. I heard he opened a small firm after, but it flopped.
"Good job."
"Haha, thanks! I'll head in first, senior."
I sighed watching Prosecutor Yoo walk away. I knew my last shred of attachment to the prosecution had snapped, but damn, it was a big deal. Even with my resignation set, I didn't want to spend another minute here.
* * *
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Prosecutor bro, go easy on me, yeah? Please."
The suspect smirked, flapping his gaudy shirt. Not in custody, so he was cocky as hell.
Back in the day, I'd have yelled with him—Who the hell's your bro, you punk? Think this is your living room? I went easy 'cause I pitied your dumbass life, and you still won't straighten up?—but now?
"Shut up and leave when you're dismissed."
"Prosecutors' investigations ain't shit!"
He stuck out his gut and sauntered out with a swagger. Years of this had dulled the pity to mere pathetic.
"Prosecutor, what's up? Letting scum like that off easy?"
Oh hurried over the second the door shut.
"Wasting energy lecturing trash like that."
"Heh heh. You've changed style big time in days."
I gave an awkward smile.
"By the way, didn't get the section chief's message? He wants you in his office. Sounded pissed."
The mention of the chief soured my face.
Hwang Youngchan, head of Criminal Division 3. In the future, he'd rise to Seoul Central District Prosecutor and betray me after securing his attorney general promotion.
"Said he'd come drag you if you don't show. What happened?"
For three days, I'd ignored his texts and calls. Avoided him in the halls. Even unread the internal ePros messenger. Absurd for a junior prosecutor. He could've stormed in raging, and I'd have no defense. But he'd held off three days. Not patience—fragile pride.
"Nothing."
Couldn't ignore him forever. I headed to the section chief's office.
"Prosecutor Cha. Hard to even look at your face."