"Truth hides best behind laughter."
The morning air smelled faintly of rain, even though the sun was shining. Maybe that was Korea's way of warning you that life was about to play a joke again.
I was on my way to see Ha-eun. My coat fluttered in the wind like I was some tragic detective hero, but really, I was just trying to keep the cold out.
Her house was tucked between two narrow streets, a little old but warm looking—like the kind of place that always smelled of soup and laundry detergent.
Ha-eun opened the door before I could knock twice.
"Jihoon?"
"Who else would knock with this much rhythm?" I grinned, tapping my knuckles once more for effect.
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips softened. "You always have to make an entrance, don't you?"
"It's part of the charm," I said, stepping inside.
We spent a while talking about nothing and everything—her mother's health, the ridiculous prices of groceries, the new movie she wanted to see but "absolutely not with someone who eats popcorn like a monster."
I pretended to be offended. "That's part of my brand."
"You don't have a brand."
"I do now. The Popcorn Monster Detective."
She threw a pillow at me. It hit squarely in the face.
We both laughed until her mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Ha-eun, who's that?"
Ha-eun froze for a split second before blurting out, "My… boyfriend!"
I blinked. "Boyfriend?"
Her mother appeared, wiping her hands on her apron, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? So this is the famous one."
Ha-eun looked ready to explode from embarrassment. I gave a polite bow. "Good evening, ma'am. I promise I'm less trouble than I look."
"You look like trouble already," she said, laughing.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
The short exchange ended with more laughter. Then Ha-eun's mom, clearly in a good mood, said, "You should stay for dinner!"
I checked the time and smiled apologetically. "Ah, I'd love to, but work's calling. Maybe next time."
Ha-eun shot me a grateful look for saving her from further interrogation. "You really have to go?"
"Duty calls, and I can't let Kang think I'm slacking again."
"Fine," she sighed. "Don't catch a cold."
I raised two fingers in a salute and stepped back into the street. The sun had disappeared behind a curtain of grey clouds, and the air felt heavier.
By the time I was halfway to the office, raindrops started to fall. Just light at first—mocking sprinkles.
I groaned. "Of course I didn't bring an umbrella."
The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, so I ducked beneath the awning of a closed convenience store. The neon sign buzzed faintly above my head, flickering like it was struggling to stay alive.
My phone buzzed.
[Ha-eun ]: You didn't bring an umbrella again, did you?
I typed back quickly.
[Me]: Of course I did. It's just invisible.
[Ha-eun ]: You'll get sick.
[Me]: Rain builds character.
She replied with a photo of her face buried in her hand and the words: You're impossible.
I smiled to myself. Even the rain couldn't ruin that.
Then another message popped up—Mom.
[Mom]: Did you eat? You look pale in your last photo.
I stared at the screen a bit longer than usual. Sometimes it was the simplest messages that hit the hardest.
I typed back a quick reassurance before shoving the phone into my pocket.
That was when I felt it.
A sudden shift in the air.
It's something you notice when you've spent too long dealing with things that shouldn't exist. The world goes quiet—too quiet—like the air itself is holding its breath.
I stepped out from under the awning, my boots splashing through puddles. The rain blurred the streetlights into hazy orbs.
Then something cut through the mist—a whistle of wind.
An arrow buried itself in the ground beside my foot.
Reflex kicked in before thought. I rolled sideways, scanning for the source. My vision flickered—yellow flashes where the truth was safe, black where lies hid.
The rooftops shifted and rippled as though the rain itself was hiding my enemy.
Another arrow came. I ducked behind a parked car; the metal clanged as it hit.
Then a figure dropped from above—a man in dark clothes, face hidden by a hood.
"Persistent day to pick a fight," I muttered.
He didn't answer, just lunged.
I sidestepped the first punch, but the second caught my shoulder. Pain bloomed hot. I grabbed his wrist, twisted, kicked his knee; he moved like someone trained—fluid, lethal.
Truth flashed around him in black streaks. Lies cloaked his every move.
I ducked another strike, drew the small pistol from my coat. Before I could fire, something hot slammed into my side.
A bullet.
My breath hitched. My knees nearly gave out. He'd brought backup.
I turned, firing once, twice. One of the shadows fell.
The first attacker came in again, aiming for my face. I blocked with my forearm, slammed my elbow into his jaw, grabbed his collar and threw him into a wall.
The gun felt heavy in my hand, the rain washing blood down my sleeve.
The man groaned. I kicked his weapon away and pointed the barrel at his head.
"Talk." My voice came out flat, colder than I expected.
He spat blood but smirked. "You don't know what you've done, Truthseeker."
"Yeah? Educate me."
His eyes twitched toward the dark street. "They're all looking for you. You killed one of ours."
"'Ours' being who?"
"The Veiled Hand."
I frowned. "Sounds like a bad magician group."
He chuckled weakly. "You won't think that when they find you."
I pressed the barrel closer. "What's their plan?"
His lips trembled. "A ship… something coming soon…"
Then his hand jerked unnaturally. He reached into his pocket and swallowed a small black pill before I could stop him.
His eyes rolled back. Foam bubbled at his mouth. Within seconds, he was still.
I sighed and holstered the gun. "Of course. Suicide capsules. How cliché."
Rain poured harder now, plastering my hair to my forehead. My coat was heavy with water and blood.
I looked at the bodies, at the empty street, and for a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing.
"It's funny," I thought. "The more truth I see, the more lies aim for my head."
I don't know if I said it out loud or just thought it. Didn't matter. The rain swallowed the words anyway.
I straightened up and started walking back toward the office, each step splashing quietly through the puddles.
By the time I got to the precinct, the rain had turned the whole street into a watercolor painting—colors bleeding, edges fading, everything half-real.
The receptionist glanced up when I entered, dripping wet and bleeding slightly. "Detective Han… are you okay?"
"Just slipped on the truth again," I muttered with a crooked smile.
She blinked. "...Should I call Kang?"
"Nah," I said, waving it off. "Just a scratch. He'll turn it into a meeting, and I don't have that kind of energy."
I trudged up the stairs, each step leaving wet footprints on the linoleum floor. My new badge felt heavier than usual, as if the little piece of metal knew it was attached to an idiot who kept almost dying.
When I entered my office, I threw the soaked coat on the chair and sat down, staring at the dim city lights through the window.
The reflection looked back at me—pale, tired, and smiling like an idiot anyway.
"I'm wanted now…" I muttered to myself. "Guess I'm popular."
The sound of rain on the window was oddly calming. Even the blood drying on my sleeve didn't look that bad under the office's warm light.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
Ha-eun had sent another message.
[Ha-eun ]: You got home safe, right?
I hesitated before replying.
[Me]: Yeah. Just doing some paperwork. Rain's nice tonight.
[Ha-eun ]: Liar. You always say that when you're hurt.
I smiled. She knew me too well.
[Me]: Maybe. But I'll live.
Her reply came after a moment.
[Ha-eun ]: That's all I need to hear. Be careful, Jihoon.
For a second, the warmth in her words almost made me forget about the corpse in the alley, the name "Veiled Hand," and the way the man's body had gone limp mid-sentence.
Almost.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
"A ship," he said.
What kind of ship? And what were they bringing?
The Veiled Hand… I'd heard whispers about them in Mr. World's last meeting. A group of Unlimiters who believed truth itself was a disease—that the world would be better if no one ever sought it again.
I snorted softly. "Guess that makes us natural enemies."
The rain outside softened to a steady drizzle. The kind that puts the city to sleep.
I reached for the lamp on my desk, dimmed it, and took out the same old pocketbook I always carried—the one filled with little notes about cases, thoughts, and sometimes random doodles when I got bored.
I flipped to a clean page and wrote:
Entry #47 — "The Veiled Hand"
Targeted tonight.
One survivor—died by forced ingestion of pill.
Mentioned: "The Ship."
Connection to dangerous Unlimiters confirmed.
Hypothesis: Something big is coming. And I'm the wrong person to be in the middle of it.
Note to self: Buy a new umbrella.
I chuckled, closing the book.
Sometimes, writing it down made things feel a little less real. Like it was just part of a story someone else would read someday and think, "That's wild."
I stood up, stretched my sore shoulder, and grabbed the cold cup of coffee I'd left in the morning.
The rain was still falling. Seoul looked peaceful from up here, but I knew better. Somewhere in the fog, someone was probably already planning the next move.
And me?
I was just trying to breathe.
Maybe that was enough for now.
Before turning off the light, I glanced at the small photo frame on my desk—my family, smiling. Mom's arm around me. Dad mid-laugh.
I touched the edge of the glass lightly.
"I'll protect you," I whispered, half to them, half to myself.
Then I shut the lamp, and the room fell into a gentle silence—only the rain keeping time against the windowpane.
"The truth doesn't sleep," I murmured. "So neither can I."