It wasn't long before a middle-aged, lean-built Asian man in a sharp suit arrived at the hotel, accompanied by a military attaché from the U.S. embassy.
The attaché exchanged only a few polite words with the FBI agents before handing back their firearms and credentials. Leaving a business card, he promptly took his leave.
The lean man introduced himself as Kim Joon-ho, a prosecutor from the Foreign Affairs Division of the Seoul High Prosecutor's Office. This took Jack slightly by surprise.
He had expected that, since the FBI was leading the case, the Koreans would at most send a senior police officer to assist them—only involving a prosecutor later when jurisdictional disputes arose.
Yet here was a prosecutor, getting involved from the start.
However, Kim Joon-ho didn't seem pleased to be here. In fact, his entire demeanor radiated reluctance. Whether intentional or simply due to his shorter stature, he stood unnaturally straight, looking down his nose at them.
Jack internally mused, Did this guy get his courage from a self-help seminar? Or maybe he knows Liang Jingru? (A reference to a famous Chinese song, Courage.)
FBI agents weren't as unrestrained as the CIA when operating abroad, but they still carried significant authority—especially in a dependent state like South Korea.
After all, even during the final years of China's Qing Dynasty or the Republic of China before 1949, foreign troops stationed in concession zones weren't funded by China itself.
Yet for the past decade, South Korea had been paying eight hundred million dollars annually for U.S. military presence—and that amount had recently increased to over a billion.
And now, a junior prosecutor from a protected nation was daring to act condescending toward the FBI? Jack nearly laughed out loud.
Jubal, also annoyed, skipped the pleasantries entirely. He took the USB drive Kim handed over and passed it to Alice, who had a laptop ready.
Alice opened the drive and found a single, edited video file. Kim Joon-ho, still stiff-faced, explained in slightly accented English:
"Our forensic team found a nightclub stamp on the victim's hand. The police traced it to a club named 'Seryang.' Its surveillance system is highly sophisticated, allowing us to track Jessica's movements from the night she disappeared."
Alice played the footage. The dimly lit dance floor flashed with colorful lights, and at its center, Jessica Townsend—wearing revealing clothes and heavy makeup—was moving seductively, her slender waist twisting in rhythm with the music.
Around her, a group of similarly dressed young women danced together.
Their skin tones and ethnicities varied, but they all shared common traits: youth, beauty, and strikingly attractive figures.
"Are these girls her friends?" Jubal frowned.
Kim Joon-ho's attitude remained cold, but he answered dutifully, "No. We checked with her roommates. They said she often went out alone."
The video, compiled from multiple camera angles, followed Jessica's movements. A club waiter approached her in the crowd, roughly pulled her away from the dance floor, and led her to a VIP booth.
Inside the booth sat three young Korean men, their hair slicked back and faces reeking of arrogance. The man sitting in the middle barely spoke a few words before casually placing his hand on Jessica's exposed thigh.
"Okay, someone explain this to me," Aubrey—once a self-proclaimed King of the Nightclubs—looked genuinely baffled. "What the hell is this?"
Kim Joon-ho's expression turned somewhat awkward. "It's a common practice in local nightclubs. These men reserve VIP booths and purchase expensive drinks. When they take an interest in a woman, a waiter brings her over."
"Wait, what? Is this forced?"
Even without Aubrey's outburst, the three female FBI agents present were already glaring at Kim in confusion and disgust.
"Not exactly forced," Kim replied, clearly uncomfortable. "These women enjoy free entry and drinks at these clubs. They know how the system works."
Jack scoffed. He understood immediately.
"Looks like Jessica had side gigs besides teaching English," he commented dryly. "Maybe she was trying to fund her post-grad travels."
Many "budget travelers" had creative ways of surviving without spending a dime. This was just one example.
"Alright," Hannah said with a sigh, "that means she now falls into a high-risk category. Have you identified these three men?"
"No, no—watch the video. It's not what you think."
Kim motioned for Alice to keep playing.
Jessica didn't seem uncomfortable at first—she smiled and chatted freely with the men. That was, until a white man suddenly barged into the frame, aggressively forcing his way beside her.
It was immediately clear that they knew each other. But while the video quality wasn't sharp enough to capture Jessica's facial expressions, her body language screamed resistance.
Clay, now applying his FBI training, analyzed, "She's crossing her arms and flipping her hair repeatedly. That's classic defensive behavior—she's nervous and uncomfortable."
Moments later, Jessica and the white man disappeared from view, and the footage ended.
"I personally visited the nightclub and questioned the staff," Kim explained. "A waiter confirmed that Jessica spoke privately with this man for several minutes."
"The doorman remembers him leaving the club first—angry," Kim continued. "A short while later, Jessica left alone. That was around 10 PM. After that, she disappeared."
Kim looked up at the FBI agents.
"The unidentified white male is now our primary suspect. However, per my superiors' instructions, finding him is your responsibility."
Ah. So that's what this is.
The FBI team collectively realized they were being handed the dirty work. No wonder Kim Joon-ho had an attitude from the start.
Jack almost wanted to tell him, Buddy, we didn't want this job either, but ultimately, he didn't bother. Adults didn't have time for mutual understanding and emotional reassurance.
Since Kim was merely the assigned liaison, it didn't really matter if he acted cold. He was Jubal's problem, not Jack's.
If Kim refused to cooperate down the line? Simple—replace him. The longstanding "father-son" relationship between the two nations meant that the FBI still had certain obligations to maintain.
Jubal moved on to organizing their team assignments:
He, JJ, and Hannah would accompany Kim Joon-ho to the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency to check for similar cases. Jack and Clay would visit the morgue to examine the body. Aubrey and Alice would scout for a secure rental property to use as their operations base.
Since joining the FBI, Clay had thrown himself into learning everything he could. Working with the Fugitive Task Force gave him far more exposure to homicides than any other unit—most cases elsewhere took months to resolve.
Theory combined with frequent practice meant rapid progress. The only area where Clay lacked experience now was forensic pathology.
Jack wasn't exactly an expert either.
Forensic science relied heavily on experience, and even with his cheat code ability, Jack had only limited hands-on exposure.
There were simply some things that one couldn't fully understand without direct experience—reading textbooks was no substitute for having personally dissected a hundred bodies.
Not that Jack minded.
He wasn't Hannibal Lecter—he had no morbid fascination with autopsies. His passion lay in cooking, not carving up corpses.
Besides, the last thing he wanted was for people to associate him too much with forensic pathology. That might seriously affect their ability to enjoy his food.
(End of Chapter)
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