WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Chen

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◈ Incarnation of the Malevolent Star ◈

Chapter 34: Part 1 - Whispers of the Dark Brother (34)

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When Yo-han died, Eun-jeong could not accept the police's conclusion about his death.

‘An accident? Yo-han was always so careful to drive defensively!’

He was the kind of person who never went above sixty kilometers per hour, even during the day.

When Eun-jeong worried about Yo-han returning home late at night, he would smile and reassure her.

「Don't worry so much. I naturally drive more slowly at night than I do during the day. Even if it's a road I travel all the time and know well, you never know when something like a water deer might jump out, right?」

To anyone driving rural roads at night, water deer were truly fucking awful creatures.

They had a habit of freezing in place whenever they caught sight of headlights while crossing the road.

Of course, water deer had their reasons.

When suddenly exposed to strong artificial light, their vision was temporarily blinded.

Still, to someone behind the wheel, it could only feel as though they were taunting them. “Don't chicken out, you human bastard. Hit me! I'm the one who'll die, not you, right?”

At any rate, Yo-han had always driven with such dangers carefully in mind.

Yet he had not collided with another vehicle, nor had he struck a wild animal. He had simply gone over a guardrail and died.

‘...How am I supposed to accept that?’

What made even less sense was the part where Yo-han and his motorcycle had gone “over” the guardrail.

Fine. Suppose Yo-han had been speeding.

Suppose he had driven far faster than usual that day and crashed while carelessly taking a corner.

‘Then there should at least have been some mark on the guardrail!’

Whether he had slammed on the brakes or slipped while cornering without slowing down, the motorcycle should have struck the guardrail hard.

Only after that could the rider and motorcycle have gone over it.

Two days after Yo-han's death, Eun-jeong finally managed to pull herself together enough to drive to the accident site herself.

Yet the old guardrail she found there had no scratches or damage anywhere.

Nor could she find any fragments that should have scattered when the motorcycle broke apart.

If a speeding motorcycle had slammed into a guardrail, its reinforced plastic fairing should at least have cracked and shattered.

The police did not collect every tiny piece of debris scattered after an accident like that.

The traffic accident scenes Eun-jeong had seen in her life often remained littered with small pieces of glass and plastic for days afterward.

(Accident scenes and crime scenes were handled differently.)

The place where Yo-han had supposedly died in an accident was full of details that did not add up.

Even to Eun-jeong, half out of her mind from the shock of her lover's sudden death, the inconsistencies were painfully obvious.

‘I'm sure of it. This was never a simple accident! It makes no sense unless the motorcycle literally flew over the guardrail!’

If there had at least been a deep rut in the road or a raised speed bump, she might have accepted it.

But there was nothing like that on the road where Yo-han had died.

‘Could it be...?’

The reason she had come rushing to the accident scene while still numb with grief was that, instinctively, one dreadful possibility had entered her mind.

She had not found direct evidence to support it, but confirming that this had not been a simple accident was still a major discovery.

Eun-jeong immediately drove to the local police substation.

She feared they would brush her off again if she spoke over the phone, so she intended to confront them face-to-face and settle the matter.

She also knew that even if she reported it to the district station or police headquarters, the people who would actually act were those at the local substation.

The officers there, who already knew her, received Eun-jeong with weary, irritated expressions.

It almost felt as though they had no choice but to deal with a troublesome complainer.

“So... you're saying an investigation needs to be reopened? Into Mr. Kim Yo-han's cause of death?”

The officer's manner was exceedingly surly.

He had already been worn down by Eun-jeong's many complaints about the stalking case involving that fifty-six-year-old "young man."

Of course, the police had only been worn down because they had failed to do their jobs properly. They had brought it upon themselves.

Naturally, if they had possessed enough professional pride to recognize that, things would not have become tangled from the beginning, nor would they have treated Eun-jeong so rudely.

Eun-jeong tried to speak as calmly as possible, swallowing her resentment toward the police.

“Yes. There are circumstances that make it impossible to see this as a simple accidental death.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Listen. Let's say Yo-han was speeding and had an accident. Then the guardrail...”

Even while grief pressed down on her mind, Eun-jeong clearly explained the questions the scene had left behind.

What allowed her to do so was a feeling close to duty.

The duty to uncover the truth behind her lover's death was holding her reason together.

But despite her efforts, the officer, who had only been half-listening, waved a hand in annoyance before Eun-jeong had even finished.

“That is enough. You can stop there.”

“What? What on earth...?”

“Ma'am, let me ask you one thing. What authority do you have to request a reinvestigation into this accident?”

“...Authority?”

“Were you legally married to the deceased, by any chance? I mean, did you have a family relationship with him?”

“...No.”

“Then are you a prosecutor with the authority to request a reinvestigation?”

“...No. But I'm asking the police to do what they're supposed to...”

“Whether it's something we're supposed to do or not, why are you making such a fuss? You're nobody.”

“Making a fuss...?”

Eun-jeong found herself unable to speak after hearing the officer's abusive language.

Sorrow surged up all at once, and tears threatened to spill from her suddenly burning eyes.

As she clenched her teeth and held back the sobs trying to escape, the officer asked in a blunt tone.

“What? Do you think I'm being too rude?”

“...”

“Ha... Ma'am. I understand that you're distraught because someone you loved suddenly died. Yes, that can happen. I understand.”

The officer scratched his head irritably.

“But investigating the cause of accidents is police work. You openly say that you don't trust us, then take one quick look around the scene and try to lecture us like you're Sherlock Holmes... Don't you think that's rude to us? You were rude first, so I can't exactly speak kindly to you.”

“...”

“And if it wasn't a simple accident, what, are you saying it was murder? What, are you worried that someone who used to follow you around because he liked you sent the goalkeeper to the next world?”

Calling the dead man a goalkeeper showed a shocking lack of consideration toward the victim of stalking.

But the officer's barrage of cruel remarks did not end there.

“That's paranoia, paranoia. People who ride motorcycles tend to die early. Why did you date someone like that in the first place?”

“How can you say something like that...!”

“Ma'am, please stop tormenting us. We're very busy people. How many reports and complaints have you filed so far? And now you're trying to give us work orders too? Keep this up, and we may have to consider arresting you for obstruction of official duties.”

“...Ugh, hhk...”

“Tsk, tsk. I know your heart must hurt, but try to get through it. The old car is gone, so someday a new car will come along. Well, maybe it's already here.”

What he meant by saying it might already be there was obvious. At that point, the Village Youth Association President was still alive.

Stunned, Eun-jeong glared at the officer through tear-filled eyes.

But the officer merely shrugged at the sharp look the teacher gave him.

“I'm giving you advice. They say the pain caused by love is healed by love, don't they?”

She could not bear to listen any longer. Eun-jeong sprang to her feet.

“Shall I see you out?”

“Forget it!”

That day, Eun-jeong ultimately had to leave the police substation while wiping away her tears...

Afterward, the anxiety coiled inside her heart only grew stronger by the moment.

The lover who had devotedly protected her was no longer in this world. Her already deep distrust and hatred of the local police had swollen enormously, and her stalker still walked freely through the world.

The teacher's instincts kept whispering an ominous theory involving the stalker into her mind.

There was no evidence, of course.

Yet her suspicions about her lover's death kept driving her thoughts down the same path.

Perhaps, as the police had said, this really was paranoia.

It might be nothing more than confirmation bias born from her hatred and loathing of someone.

Though grief shattered her heart and fear fed on her anxiety as it grew, Eun-jeong's reason had not yet broken down enough for her to deny that she could be wrong.

But...

‘If this continues, I might really break before long...’

The intuition that the disgusting stalker might be more frightening and vicious than she had known until now.

That chilling intuition kept worsening her anxiety.

Still, she hesitated to share these fears with Yo-han's bereaved family.

‘How can I casually tell them, “Your son, or your brother, may have been murdered...”?’

Saying something so horrifying based on suspicions without evidence could deeply wound the bereaved family.

And even if they requested it, there was no guarantee the police would conduct a sincere reinvestigation.

...Yo-han's family might only suffer more needless pain after encountering the local police's laziness and cynicism.

Eun-jeong's distrust of the local police had deepened to a pathological level.

Whenever she visited Yo-han's funeral hall, the presence of the fake young man lingering at a distance continued to scrape at Eun-jeong's already precarious mind.

‘That man...’

The pathetic way he shrank back while watching Elder Jo Jeong-ho and the other village elders was utterly contemptible.

Yet at the same time, his bloodshot eyes, as though he had been unable to sleep, frightened her.

Suppose he was not the murderer.

Given his vulgar character, Yo-han's death could only have been a relief to him, like finally losing an aching tooth.

Then if he still could not sleep, what could the reason possibly be?

Was this reasonable suspicion?

Or was it nothing but pathological confirmation bias?

Losing her lover was already hard enough. Yet Eun-jeong carried these agonizing thoughts while being crushed by anxiety, suspicion, and fear.

Even so, she did not want to show weakness before the stalker.

No, she could not.

‘The more weakness you show people like that, the bolder they become.’

So Eun-jeong tried to remain composed.

There was nothing she could do about the grief that escaped despite her will, but she shut every other emotion inside herself with all the strength she had.

If Eun-jeong showed that she was intimidated by the presence of that beast, the disgusting creature would become triumphant and finally try to devour its weakened prey.

Because the “goalkeeper” was no longer there.

Three things gave Eun-jeong at least some strength.

Yo-han's bereaved family, who shared her grief.

The presence of Elder Jo Jeong-ho, like an iron wall.

And the warmth of her precious student, who sometimes quietly came into her arms.

Her precious student was lively, but secretly quite shy.

Normally, if a hug lasted even a little too long, he would squirm this way and that until he escaped, even as he made it clear that he wanted the hug itself.

But this time was different.

Perhaps because he wanted to comfort his teacher's grief, he quietly allowed her to hold him longer than usual.

Of course, Onik had only been different because his killing intent was focused on “someone else.”

But Eun-jeong had no way of knowing the truth about her student.

So she could only feel grateful for and proud of his thoughtfulness.

Still, it was only temporary comfort.

On the day Yo-han was finally buried, Eun-jeong returned home alone and collapsed onto the floor as soon as she closed her front door.

“Ugh, hhk...!”

No matter how much she wiped them away, her tears would not stop.

At the same time, exhaustion surged over her as if a dam had burst, making her feel as though she might collapse at any moment.

From the day Yo-han died until the day his funeral ended, Eun-jeong had suffered from sleep deprivation that only grew worse.

Even when she lay in bed, it was hard to fall asleep.

When sleep finally came, it was often no more than a brief doze crushed beneath nightmares.

She was afraid of the darkness that swept over her when she closed her eyes. The silence filling her home made it hard to breathe.

Beyond the windows covered by blinds, it felt as though there might be a beast shaped like a person. At times, she even thought she could hear rough breathing from under her bed and smell the foul scent of cigarettes rising from below...

Until morning came, Eun-jeong's mind repeatedly cut out as she wandered between dreams and reality.

On top of her exhaustion, she had barely eaten and was completely drained.

Even when she passed out into sleep, it never lasted more than twenty minutes.

Even after she woke with a start, her exhausted body and mind remained gripped by drowsiness, and before long she was dragged back into another nightmare.

That sleep, too, usually ended before twenty minutes had passed.

It was a vicious cycle she could not escape on her own.

The cycle continued for two more days.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

For three full days, the teacher's mind floundered in a deep swamp.

Over the weekend, she was so dazed even during the day that she could not properly take care of her meals.

If not for the instant rice and ramen she had stored away for emergencies, she might have gone hungry for two days straight.

Some side dishes Yo-han had made while he was still alive remained in the refrigerator, but Eun-jeong could not touch them.

Just seeing the food they had shared made her heart ache.

And so, without even changing clothes, she greeted the morning of a new week.

The teacher slowly rose from her bed in her black funeral suit, held her throbbing forehead, and let out a groan through dry lips.

“Ugh...”

Though she had spent the entire weekend at home, her condition had not improved at all.

With the help of sunlight filtering through the gap in the blinds, Eun-jeong barely gathered herself and blankly took in the sight of her home through misty eyes.

The shoes carelessly kicked off beside the bed told her something.

You really are a complete mess right now.

Even in that state, after checking the time, her sense of responsibility as a teacher made her reach for her phone first.

‘I need to contact the school, even now...’

But Eun-jeong could not contact the school right away.

While she had been trapped in a maze between dreams and reality, groaning in distress, an unbelievable message had arrived from her precious student.

Out of habit, the teacher checked Onik's message first among the many missed calls and messages. When she saw its contents, her eyes widened.

“What... did you say? That man is dead?”

Blinking, Eun-jeong questioned her own condition.

‘Am I still dreaming?’

Footnotes:

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