what happened to jeongguk? [ thriller ]

six.

"i get you," taehyung reassures. "i don't know how'd i react if i was in your shoes. denial's the first stage."

"the whole thing just seemed so far-fetched," namjoon sighs. "i'm sorry."

hoseok knows only the most vague, surface-level details regarding kim taehyung. he works as an intern at some company hoseok has actually never heard of, so definitely not a detective like kim namjoon is, he's a daegu-native, also a bit on the stubborn side ("passionate!"—taehyung would argue). hoseok is also aware that taehyung has gone through the whole missing-friend fiasco, but the details are very, very vague and hoseok doesn't want to pry on such a sensitive topic.

hoseok would never want to experience that.

he has always been alone for pretty much the majority of his life so the concept is highly unlikely, but still.

they arrive at namjoon's agency. it's a two story-building about eight blocks away from where hoseok works—honestly pretty modern-looking and professional.

"tell me everything," namjoon says as soon as they step into his office. "i called my secretary, he'll be here in a few but i'll fill him in later. he's always on leave around this time of the year. personal stuff."

"okay," taehyung says, taking a seat. "but promise me. you need to let me finish."

"are you gonna start spewing some weird shit or something?" hoseok chides.

"kind of."

"uh-oh."

"go ahead," namjoon says wearily. "we need all the information we can gather."

"get comfortable," taehyung says sheepishly. "it's long—"

"taehyung."

"newspapers," he starts. "both jeongguk and jimin were obsessed with them. everyone disregarded that because literally anybody would think they were crazy. jimin's paranoia was an example. the obsession was overlooked as a symptom."

hoseok has no idea what he's talking about, considering how he's only been on the case for hardly an hour, but he stays silent. he's listening.

"but has anyone ever bothered to even look at the newspapers? has anyone even at least try to understand why they were so hung up on it?" taehyung emphasizes. "the police, you, me—literally everyone—we were so blindsided by the disappearances that we failed to look at the most important clue."

"the newspapers?" namjoon answers, leaning forward as his brows furrow. "are you saying they're the clue?"

(at this point hoseok has already run out of his basic mental capacity to even comprehend what the fuck they're talking about.)

"the crosswords," taehyung says firmly. "i know it's crazy, but there's a pattern. i don't know who or why, but i know someone put them there—there's a pattern."

"that's—"

"at the bottom of the page there's numbers," taehyung continues, digging out his bag. "different numbers every week. why? i kept asking myself why. why would there be numbers right there when every other publication in korea has none? and then i figured it out. it's telling us the system. the pattern. we just have to follow it."

he spreads out heaps of old newspapers onto the table, all from different dates dated even as far back as 2017.

"this publication." namjoon's eyes widen. "it's the same one jimin was obsessing over."

"jeongguk too," taehyung says. he goes over to the crossword portion, fingers grazing over the cheap paper and along the edges of its ends. he points at the bottom of the page, and hoseok's eyes catch black-inked numbers in smaller fonts.

"you're right," hoseok blurts, eyes wide. "they don't have those numbers in any other publication."

"you read newspapers?" namjoon asks, raising a brow. "i wouldn't have even noticed this."

"you get bored when you're working below minimum wage."

"and so i was trying to figure out how it worked," taehyung gushes, ignoring them. "and i got it. the numbers explain the across-down dynamic on the crosswords."

he grabs a random issue from march, flashing the page onto their faces. "the numbers always come in threes, always with a zero in the middle. it's a space indication. 301 stands for the letter 3 across, 1 down."

silence.

"aren't you..." hoseok starts. "overanalyzing this a little?"

"just let him finish," namjoon says weakly.

"and so i gathered all these dating from the first four weeks of january of 2017, right before jeongguk's disappearance," taehyung continues, unwavering and determined. he pulls out a clipped folder with thick stacks of cheap paper, along with a ripped piece pinned to the front. there are numbers written on it.

"i'm staring at a bunch of compressed numbers," hoseok says, eyes fixed and confused.

"nearly four weeks worth of decoding—different pattern each week, and i got this," taehyung says, gesturing to the numbers rashly written on the piece.

"those are..." namjoon starts, eyes wide. "are those coordinates?"

"yes," taehyung says, pulling out the map app on his phone, fingers trailing to the pinpointed location shown blatantly on the screen. "and it points exactly at—"

"hangjung." namjoon pales, eyes wide.

"yes, and—" taehyung halts. "—are you okay?"

"taehyung," namjoon whispers, and he looks so... shocked. "hangjung. that's where jimin was last sighted."

the room is silent.

and they're staring at each other. taehyung's face falls almost instantaneously, and there's this silence. like that split defeaning second that hangs in the air before glass falls to the floor. even with the lack of grip hoseok has regarding the severity of the situation, even he could understand how awfully... odd this is. it feels like a click—like everything falling weirdly into place.

and then taehyung's phone rings.

there's a sense of hesitation. taehyung picks it up.

silence.

taehyung pales, and he's sitting there, the color from his face draining. his fingers tremble slightly, eyes shifting towards namjoon. the phone falls from his ear.

"jeongguk," taehyung whispers. "he's back."

-
OOOOOOOOOOOO MANNNNNN
its boutta go down!