When Na-moo returned, the tables occupied by the police station staff were empty. He could just make out two familiar heads: a redhead and a brunette, both struggling to keep a drunken man, taller than both of them and heavier, on his feet.

Hector Brown's eyes became slits with the wide smile that took over his lips as he saw his partner approaching.

“Moo!” Hector mumbled, staggering towards Hwang. “You're back!” And he threw his arms over his friend's shoulders, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What happened here?” Na-moo asked, wrinkling his nose as Hector's breath reached his nostrils, the stench of alcohol mixed with fried onions.

“He mixed beer and soju with whiskey and vodka,” replied Gina, cracking her back with a grimace. “He was trying to impress Dr. Zhou's friend. Or perhaps to fall into an alcoholic coma.”

Na-moo breathed in through his mouth, avoiding the strong stench coming from his partner's mouth, and wrapped his right arm around the man to keep him upright and free his weight from the girls' shoulders.

“What about the rest of the team?”

“They left a while ago. We split the bill, and we've paid for everything,” said Amélie.

“Did your friend, the one with the blue hair, leave without you?”

“The one with the blue hair? She's the future Mrs. Brown, more respect!” Hector gulped. “She dumped me again, can you believe it, Moo?”

Brown pursed his lips, his huge pout increasing his alcohol-reddened cheeks. Hwang and Zhou looked at each other, the corners of their lips twitching at the hint of a smile.

“I thought I should be the last to leave, since everyone came here to welcome me.” Amélie answered Na-moo's question, who nodded slowly.

The four of them (Gina, Amélie, Na-moo and Hector) left the pub side by side. Amélie tried to help Na-moo drag the drunken detective out, as the man struggled, muttering that they should have another round of beer and soju before they left. Luckily, the old Chevrolet Omega was parked in front of the bar entrance.

Hwang opened the door with difficulty, Hector's eighty kilos weighing down his torso.

“Right, Mr. Brown, could you sit in the back seat, without any complications, so I can take us home?” Na-moo asked, trying to get his friend off his shoulders into the car, but the man stuck to him, his arms held him firmly by the neck and his legs hooked around his hips.

Hector looked like a sloth clinging to the trunk of a tree.

“I don't want to!”

“I don't suppose you'll be able to drive like that” Amélie pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at the scene. “I can drive for you.”

“You don't have to” Na-moo tried to push Hector into the seat once again, unsuccessfully.

“That way you won't get anywhere. I'll drop you off at home.”

“What about your car?”

“I can pick it up later.”

“This doesn't seem right…”

“And driving with a drunk hanging round your neck, does that seem right?” Amélie arched an eyebrow. “I don't see how you can drive safely.”

His American coffee-colour eyes stared at her hesitantly. Na-moo nibbled his lower lip. Zhou was right, he wouldn't be able to drive with Brown clinging to him like a baby. Soon the detective would fall asleep, because that's what happens when you're drunk. However, until sleep mingled with the cachaça he'd drunk, Hector wouldn't let go—that always happened when he was dumped by Winnie.

After almost ten minutes reflecting, in a losing battle, with his eyes fixed on Zhou's eyes, Na-moo Hwang handed her the car keys.

“You'd better tell Yohan, if you're going to leave your car here…”

“I'll tell him.”

Amélie stared at Gina, as frightened as Na-moo, they had both forgotten that the redhead was still there. “I can't leave now, I'm waiting for someone, and I'll do it inside” she smiled. “You'd better hurry or Brown will have trouble getting up tomorrow.”

The redhead waved goodbye to her colleagues before disappearing into the entrance of the pub, while Amélie watched Na-moo trying to squeeze into the back seat with Hector clinging to him.

Hwang patted his friend's head as he tried to get him into the car, praying that no bumps would appear on his forehead the next day. As soon as he was settled, the woman sat in the driver's seat and fastened her seatbelt fairly quickly, fearing that he would change his mind. 

Unlike her own vehicle, this one smelled of mothballs and mint. The old dashboard made Amélie a little insecure, as it had been a long time since she had driven a fully manual car, so she turned the key in the ignition and started it up. The smooth rumble of the engine reminded her of the times she'd driven her father's car when she'd first got her license, just after graduating from high school and returning home. 

As the night landscape changed through the window, Amélie remembered the conversation she'd had with Mayumi earlier… 

She decided that she would call her father when she got home.

✛✛

As expected, Hector Brown was asleep when the Chevrolet was parked in the housing estate where Na-moo lived. Getting the 1.79 centimeter tall man out of the car was the easy part. Much easier than getting him inside when he was awake, and much easier than dragging his eighty kilos up six flights of stairs. 

Na-moo, whose left arm wrapped around Hector's waist, had droplets of sweat trickling down his shoulder blades. Glancing round, he noticed that Zhou was sweating too, as she helped him carry the drunk up the stairs—even though most of the weight was on him. 

Na-moo didn't refuse Amélie's help, nor did he complain when she put her arm round Hector's waist, imitating him. He didn't even complain when her arm brushed his as they stumbled down the steps.

The emergency lights went out when they reached the third floor. Na-moo cursed lowly, switching on the phone's flashlight. He could hear Mrs. Hwang's voice grumbling about his choice of flat every time these glitches happened.

“What's the point of being cheap if the lights don't work and there isn't even a lift? Is it supposed to stop me coming to visit you?”

If his mum found the light on the third floor burnt out again the next time she went to see him, she'd start a petition in the retired mothers' reading group just to get him back home.

The creak of the heavy fire door being dragged brought him back from his thoughts. Amélie held the door open for him to pass through with Hector.

Hwang's flat was the first in the short corridor. He indicated the golden key on the keychain she held between her fingers to open the door. The stuffy air of the tiny flat engulfed them as they entered. The gray three-seater sofa was five steps away from the entrance, leaning against the white plaster wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. 

Amélie placed his keys on the round coffee table in front of the sofa. The clang of metal hitting glass sounded softly. She watched her colleague lay the other detective down on the sofa in the reflection of the window. 

Na-moo stood up, massaging his shoulders with an amused grimace. He was about to stretch his neck when his gaze met Amélie's—the deep, penetrating brown color staring back at him silently. He quickly turned his face away, disconcerted. His heart almost exploded with the pounding of his heart from the exhaustion of having carried Hector Brown all that way.

“Thanks for helping me bring him in… and sorry for all the trouble. If Hector didn't live on the other side of town, I would have been able to carry him by myself. His flat is on the ground floor.” And even if it wasn't, the drunk was lazy enough to rent a flat in a building with a lift.

“It was no trouble at all.” Amélie smiled slightly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Well, I'll be on my way… the taxi should be here any minute,” she added, remembering the taxi she'd ordered when she'd parked the detective's car.

“Right, watch out for the stairs. It'll be dark until you get to the second floor,” Hwang muttered, watching Amélie's small figure disappear down the corridor, through the fire door.

✛✛

The detective ran his right hand over the mirror, his long fingers wiping away the thick mist that the steam from the shower had formed. Na-moo watched his reflection as he dried his hair with the towel, wondering what he would do with the inebriated man lying on his sofa. 

He had considered waking him up to take a shower and try to get rid of the stench of alcohol from his body, or having something for the hangover. With the amount of alcohol Hector had consumed, he would have a terrible headache when he woke up. However, having been roommates once, he knew that Hector wouldn't wake up even if the ceiling collapsed on his head when he got drunk. So he took a deep breath, wrapping the towel around his hip. 

Droplets dripped from the damp threads and ran down his bare chest as he turned the handle. As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, he heard the annoying ring of the doorbell reverberating in his eardrums; it sounded like a newborn calf screaming.

The detective dragged his bare feet across the wooden floor, frowning. His brain wondered who it could be at that time of night as he made his way to the door. 

Hwang's eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets when he saw who was there, through the peephole in the door.