He adjusted his coat, his fingers brushing against the badge clipped to his belt. The junkyard owner, a burly man with grease-stained hands and a permanent scowl, approached him cautiously. “Can I help you, officer?” he asked, his tone wary.

Jisung flashed his badge, his expression calm but firm. “I’m looking for a car. Black station wagon, license plate number…” He pulled out his notebook, reading off the numbers he’d scribbled down earlier. The owner’s face remained impassive, but Jisung didn’t miss the flicker of unease in his eyes.

“Don’t know nothin’ about that,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We get a lot of cars in here. Can’t keep track of all of ’em.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “I’m sure you can’t. But I’d appreciate it if you’d let me take a look around.”

The owner hesitated, his eyes darting to the workers scattered across the yard. Finally, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t touch anythin’ without askin’.”

Jisung nodded, his sharp eyes already scanning the rows of cars. He moved methodically, his steps deliberate, his mind sharp. The car had to be here, he was sure of it. And if it wasn’t, the owner’s nervousness suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

Jisung had spent the past two weeks narrowing down the possibilities. There were three junkyards in the area where the car had last been seen, and he’d already searched the other two. Both had turned up empty, leaving this one as the final option. If the car wasn’t here, he was back to square one. But Jisung didn’t believe in dead ends. Not when he was this close.

It didn’t take long to find it. The black station wagon was tucked away in a corner, partially hidden beneath a tarp. Jisung pulled the tarp aside, his heart rate quickening as he recognized the car from the surveillance footage. The license plate was missing, but the make and model matched. This was it.

He circled the car, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The exterior was scratched and dented, but otherwise intact. The windows were rolled up, the doors locked. Jisung pulled out a pair of gloves and a slim tool from his pocket, quickly picking the lock. The door creaked open, revealing an interior that was… spotless.

Jisung leaned inside. The seats were clean, the floor mats vacuumed, the dashboard wiped down. There wasn’t a single fingerprint, not a single speck of dust. It was as if the car had been scrubbed from top to bottom.

‘Too clean,’ Jisung thought, his jaw tightening. ‘Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure there was no evidence left behind.’

But Jisung wasn’t one to give up easily. He began a meticulous search of the car, his movements slow and deliberate. He checked under the seats, inside the glove compartment, even the trunk. Nothing. Not a single clue.

Frustration bubbled up inside him, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to stay focused. There had to be something…something they had missed. 

He removed the driver’s seat, the bolts creaking as he loosened them with a wrench from his toolkit. Once the seat was out, he pulled out a small amplifier, its lens magnifying the area beneath. The car’s floor was black, making it nearly impossible to spot anything out of place. But Jisung’s sharp eyes caught it, a small black hair, almost invisible against the dark surface.

He leaned closer, his breath steady as he carefully retrieved the hair with a pair of tweezers. It was thin, almost fragile, but it was there. A single strand, overlooked in the thorough cleaning. Jisung’s lips curved into a faint smile as he carefully placed the hair in a transparent evidence bag. 

"Finally."

***

The next day, Jisung took the evidence to the forensic laboratory and waited three days for the results to come out. He spent the entire time in his office, locking himself away from the world. No one could talk to him, not even Minsoo. 

Jisung stood in the waiting area, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his sharp eyes fixed on the door leading to the lab. The scientist -a young woman- finally emerged, holding a clipboard. “Detective,” she said, her tone professional but not unkind. “We’ve completed the analysis. The results are… interesting.”

Jisung’s pulse quickened, but his expression remained calm. “Go on.”

She handed him the report, her eyes meeting his. “The hair belongs to a male, approximately in his 30s. We ran it through the database and got a match. His name is Kang Minho. He has a record, petty theft, mostly. But here’s the thing…” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. “According to our records, Kang Minho died nearly two weeks ago.”

Jisung’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing to process the information. "Dead?" he said, his jaw tightening. "This can't possible?" He scanned the report, his sharp eyes catching every detail. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

The scientists nodded. “Positive. We double-checked the data. Kang Minho is deceased.”

Jisung’s jaw tightened as he stared at the report. This can't be a coincidence. The timeline was clear. Minho had died two weeks ago, just as Jisung was making progress in the investigation.

"Dead ends again."

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