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35. Good cop, Bad cop 3
35. Good cop, Bad cop 3
Yoon Tae-ha was being dragged out of the gymnasium by her friend, an arm slung forcibly over her shoulders. Watching this, Woo Joo-han remarked:
“That outfit suits her better than the uniform.”
Cheon Geon-young, seeing no intention from his opponent to resume the game, began packing the badminton rackets into their bag. Having graduated from a place with stricter rules than any other educational institution, he valued punctuality above all else. Whether lost in thought or daydreaming, he intended to move for class regardless.
“Isn’t she pretty?”
Just before leaving, those words rolled in unexpectedly.
---
That night, the glass door of Cheon Geon-young’s balcony had to endure someone’s furious knocking. It was Yoon Tae-ha—her second visit since the first day.
Cheon Geon-young greeted her while squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush, caught off guard by her sudden intrusion. Before he could process his slightly vulnerable appearance, she naturally snatched the toothbrush from his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Brush after your late-night snack.”
She spoke in a solemn tone, as if confessing she’d poisoned his toothpaste.
“I brought it.”
In her hand was a black plastic bag, and a faint, savory aroma had been noticeable since she entered.
Cheon Geon-young hung the towel he’d draped around his neck back in the bathroom and approached. Yoon Tae-ha had already drawn the curtains, turning the room into a private space, and was quickly setting up the kimbap with practiced ease.
“Where did you buy this? There aren’t any shopping districts nearby.”
She looked up, guilt flickering across her face.
“…Don’t tell Dr. Moon.”
“A secret?”
“Also don’t tell Seo Do-jin when he comes on Friday.”
“No strings attached?”
“You’re my accomplice.”
As Cheon Geon-young handed her the disposable chopsticks, he guessed she’d traveled quite far. Based on his observations earlier, it took a long drive to reach any sizable commercial area.
Just how far had she gone?
Without even asking why she’d scaled the wall, Yoon Tae-ha spilled everything freely.
“Dinner tonight was terrible. Lunch wasn’t great either. And the guides’ cafeteria isn’t much better, right? Just agree with me already.”
“The menu’s the same every day—it’s posted on the website.”
“Come to think of it, the kids were glued to their phones during break time. Did you eat dinner?”
“I skipped it today, actually.”
Yoon Tae-ha, relieved, wasn’t wearing her activity uniform.
“You’re in casual clothes?”
When he pointed it out, she responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:
“Do I need to advertise that I escaped the shelter? You can’t leave without permission anyway. Of course, I changed before going out.”
“If you escape, who comes to catch you?”
“The scary people with horns on their heads come to get you.”
Her hair was elegantly braided into a single plait, with small wildflowers tucked between the strands.
“Did you bring flowers too?”
Yoon Tae-ha, who had just taken a sip of the soda Cheon Geon-young handed her, barely managed to swallow before reaching up to feel her braid. Her fingers brushed against soft petals, and she looked startled—she hadn’t realized the flowers were there.
“No wonder everyone was looking at me strangely…”
“I climbed the wall with flowers in my hair. How embarrassing.” She covered her reddened eyes with her palm, hiding them behind pale fingertips.
“My friend put them in. Take them out for me.”
“They look good on you. Why remove them?”
“Don’t joke around. If I can’t see them, I can’t remove them with telekinesis. If I go back to the dorm like this, the kids will mock me.”
He obediently complied with her request. Yoon Tae-ha turned to face the wall, giving him easy access to remove the flowers. The calloused tips of his fingers brushed against her soft hair.
“You really put a lot of them in.”
“I picked them during outdoor training today. I ran up the back mountain three times. There were so many there.”
“Weren’t you tired?”
Yoon Tae-ha answered lightly:
“Not at all. Pretending to be tired was harder.”
Her straight, upright shoulders shifted slightly with a sigh.
Suddenly, the memory of the day she entered the shelter surfaced—the moment he tied her necktie for her. Her face had deliberately ignored the soft brush of fabric.
“It seems like you’ve already made friends.”
“You’re the same, aren’t you? The shooting club, right?”
“To get on someone’s good side.”
Yoon Tae-ha chuckled softly at his cynical reply. The sound of her laughter was pleasant to hear.
Truthfully, he thought of the necktie as a test. He still did now. It felt like she was testing him, using her innate, flowing warmth as a shield.
Perhaps she suspected something.
Maybe she wondered if this strange man who had entered her life was acting under someone else’s orders—or harboring pure malice.
He had no intention of falling for her test, nor any reason to. He was confident in waiting.
“How did you get on their good side?”
“I think they love my grandfather more than me. It’s thanks to blood ties.”
She tried and failed to suppress a laugh.
“…Sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“I said it to make you laugh.”
“Did you look through the books? The textbooks?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think? Different from what you learned at the military academy?”
“A third of them are familiar. The rest are new.”
Cheon Geon-young carefully picked out the white flowers with his large hands. Though they were scentless, an oddly pleasant fragrance tickled his nose.
As his fingers brushed against her hair, strands inevitably fell out of place. Her profile, tracing an ideal curve, came into view.
He moved his hands slowly, as if afraid of ruining something perfect, like a sculptor fearful of damaging his masterpiece.
Isn’t she beautiful? Come to think of it, his admiration was remarkably refined.
“It’s done.”
After removing all the flowers, she turned around with a refreshed expression. “Let’s eat quickly,” she urged, showing no hidden agenda behind her words.
He placed the flowers on a tissue. Pulling over a desk chair, Cheon Geon-young sat down and asked:
“Do you have a reason for preferring physical books? The shelter provides electronic devices, yet all the textbooks are printed.”
Yoon Tae-ha blinked while holding her fork, briefly repeating, “That?” He nodded.
“It’s because of intelligence-type espers.”
“Because of espers?”
“It happens fairly often. Intelligence-type students hack the server and delete assignments of students they dislike…”
Glancing at his expression, she continued in an awkward tone:
“Some of the more diligent ones mess with files belonging to the entire student body—like altering important numbers.”
“Having physical books makes sense then.”
“Exactly. You can’t alter numbers in a printed book.”
Yoon Tae-ha perched herself precariously on a single-person sofa, eating her late-night snack. Thanks to her quick teleportation, the food was still warm.
Cheon Geon-young asked:
“Any unusual findings?”
“I’ve only finished gauging the personalities of the G-class students.”
“Kang Jin-ho doesn’t seem like the type to recommend amplifiers to others.”
“Right. He’d never suggest something like, ‘It’s good, so let’s try it together,’ even if he died.”
“Is Gwon Min-gi still the priority?”
She nodded.
“Targeting someone who’s already opened their mouth might be faster.”
Yoon Tae-ha clenched the plastic fork between her teeth. Cheon Geon-young reminded her of something crucial:
“The effects last 24 to 36 hours. And the expiration date is short.”
“Right.”
“They’ll likely try to get new supplies before the evaluation match.”
According to information extracted from Gwon Min-gi, amplifiers couldn’t be obtained during vacation periods. There was also an instruction to consume the drug within a week of purchase.
The shelter’s summer break lasted three weeks. Any drugs purchased before the break would now be expired due to the short shelf life.
It was highly likely that Kang Jin-ho and other students didn’t currently have any drugs to consume immediately.
Even when eavesdropping on conversations, many students were looking for drugs, but none seemed to possess them. Everyone was busy borrowing money instead.
“Given that Seo Do-jin stormed in right after school started, it doesn’t seem like they’d act so boldly…”
After pondering for a moment, she asked about the broker candidate in Cheon Geon-young’s class.
“How’s Hwang Sung-bin?”
“He loves to show off and harbors more hostility toward espers than usual. During personal shooting practice, he even sticks pictures of espers he dislikes onto targets and shoots at them.”
“Woo Joo-han didn’t seem to hate espers that much, though…”
Yoon Tae-ha nodded as her gaze shifted to her phone screen. Cheon Geon-young’s movement, which had been rolling an empty plastic bottle in his palm, came to a stop.
Unaware of the subtle change, Yoon Tae-ha was met with Cheon Geon-young’s question:
“Do you know him?”
Only after he asked did she look up. She was met with his blank, purely curious expression.
“Woo Joo-han?”
The name rolled lightly off her lips.
“Your class president, right?”
Cheon Geon-young gave a slight nod. Yoon Tae-ha recalled the face of the mischievous young man she’d met not long ago and replied:
“I met him once. He came to tell me about the evaluation match schedule—he’s part of the student council, after all.”
“Did he say he went specifically to tell you the schedule?”
Cheon Geon-young wasn’t someone who used confusing phrasing. Yet this question felt a little nuanced. Though Yoon Tae-ha didn’t understand why, she obediently answered:
“Yeah, he did.”
The person who had asked the question stared at her silently. His gaze lingered longer than necessary, prompting her to lean back against the chair’s backrest.
Why was he looking at her like that?
Cheon Geon-young soon steered the conversation naturally in another direction. Preferring to play the jester rather than endure awkward silences, Yoon Tae-ha went along with it.
When it was time to leave, she stood up, but Cheon Geon-young briefly stopped her before she could go.
“Take this.”
It was the same kind of candy she had given him during her first visit—like an essential supply he always carried around. For some reason, the wrapper looked different.
“A dessert, huh? Thanks.”
Yoon Tae-ha awkwardly clutched the familiar object and quickly leapt off the balcony.
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