APR 5, 2019.
10 : 51 AM
JUNG HOSEOK.
jung hoseok didn't know what to expect on his first day at work.
he did of course expect a throng of zombie-like pedestrians swarming into Extra Dose in hopes of snatching at least a grande americano on their way to work. he also expected a lengthy line of languid millenials with sunken eyebags waiting while he haphazardly tries to organize the register in the least self-destructive way as possible. while all expectations manifested into his reality, what he didn't expect was a heated commentary about park jimin by the farthest window booth.
"convenience store? jimin?" namjoon says from the front seat of taehyung's second-hand honda.
with the lack of a license and the ability to drive, hoseok learns that namjoon takes the subway to work when his secretary isn't there to pick him up. luckily enough, taehyung was on a persistent pursuit to chase namjoon to the ends of the earth if he had to, fortunately not without his red honda parked in the public garage across the street.
(taehyung had enthusiastically explained his coincidental encounter with namjoon on the street, hence the current situation right now).
jung hoseok had explained all the details regarding the incident, from start to finish and especially emphasizing the way park jimin had attempted to literally strangulate him behind the register (which of course earned a dramatic double-take from the two in front, with namjoon having a little spit out of his americano). hoseok leaves the part with the candle, convinced it will dismantle and discredit his entire story because that spectacle seems so out of touch with reality (he's learned his lesson).
namjoon calls the agency and the local detectives right after, telling them to recheck the missing person file and implement a search.
"did you even report this?" namjoon almost yells in disbelief.
"i wasn't sure if it was him," hoseok lies. it's better like this. "i was too scared and it's not like i had any evidence either. the cameras were out."
"still," namjoon says, obviously overwhelmed. "this is..."
"i told you i wasn't lying," taehyung says. "he's back and for some reason he's acting like a fucking deliquent."
"he's not like that," namjoon mutters. "i swear he's not like that. i don't know what he's doing."
"me neither."
"did jimin say anything?" namjoon asks. "like, anything at all? it's just... it's really hard to believe."
"i don't know he seemed pretty occupied trying to suffocate me behind the register," hoseok says jokingly. namjoon shoots him a side-eye. "sorry. coping mechanism. and no he didn't. i didn't even get a single utter from him."
"you got any idea why he's doing this?" taehyung chides.
"i..." namjoon sighs. "i honestly don't even know."
"hey," taehyung calls mildly. "you okay?"
"i'm... i'm just really overwhelmed," namjoon says slowly. "and confused. mostly confused. like, he's back. jimin is back. i should be happy, but i just feel... shocked. it doesn't even feel real. it's hard to even believe, so i just feel... numb? to be honest, taehyung, i didn't really believe you at first. but this—this. this feels like a confirmation telling me that this is actually real. like it's for fucking real."
"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!