Chapter Text
The opening move someone makes in Go can tell you a lot about a person, Kang Yo-han has found.
It can also be used to communicate a specific message.
The old man across from Yo-han in the blue prison jumper coughs noisily as he sets the first piece on the board, the black stone, the lone rock in the middle of a desert.
The placement of it, positioned over the halfway point of the board, closer to the judge.
The man coughs again as Yo-han studies the board for a moment longer before he then places a white stone of his own, mirroring his opponent's black.
The greying, former detective, smirks at Yo-han through his messy bangs—the man known as Oh Gu-tak, the former leader of the infamous Special Crimes Investigation Division of Korea, or the Mad Dog team for short. The team had still remained active, under Detective Yoo Mi-Young, until the virus hit in 2019. The various politicians and powers that be couldn’t allow for it to return, so it has remained shuttered ever since. Ironically, the public outcry and precedent for justice delivered from something like such a radical team was what, in part, spurred on the allowance of the Live Court show.
Amazing how the upper crust of society helps to unwittingly orchestrate their own downfall.
Yo-han lets the silence linger as he places his next stone.
“So,” Gu-tak addresses his fellow inmate, “are you to rise again after three days pass?”
Yo-han stares the other man down as he plans his next move, unwilling to let his brow so much as twitch at the jab. Gu-tak is infamous for his poor personality and cruel intellect, not unlike Yo-han’s own.
“No?” the old man goads, before breaking out into deprecating laughter.
It is an ugly thing.
The next black stone clicks against the board as it makes itself at home amongst the image that is starting to form.
“Tell me,” Yo-han says after a moment, “how long does it take for an already unstable dog to go truly insane?” He places his white stone to interrupt the path Gu-tak is trying to create. “Captivity can’t be good for you.”
Gu-tak pulls at his ear before leaning back on his hands and appearing overall unaffected by the younger man’s words.
“Ah.” The former detective nods. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” He scratches at the back of his head for a moment. “They take us out on walks, you know.”
Despite himself, Yo-han cracks a sardonic smile, and Gu-tak takes it as permission to start laughing again, with the judge quick to join in.
It is not a happy sound.
To any onlookers, the other prison inmates and the guards in this small common room during the limited amount of free time the prisoners are allowed in a day, they likely look insane. Boredom will do that to a man, Yo-han thinks.
Of course, Gu-tak was likely never sane to begin with, especially after the death of his daughter.
And Yo-han was always told he was a little off.
A little mad.
“Ya,” Gu-tak says as their laughter winds down, “us rabid dogs don’t die nearly so easily, hm?”
Try as he might, Yo-han can’t keep his eye from twitching at that.
“Ah?” Gu-tak goads victoriously, reaching across the board to place another black stone against Yo-han’s white.
Yo-han releases a slow, barely noticeable breath, willing his hands in his lap to relax and not give into the temptation to punch the smug bastard.
The still healing wound on his palm throbs.
Yo-han places down another white stone with his uninjured hand.
Gu-tak stares, self-satisfied smirk in place, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Yo-han watches as it falls into something decidedly sour, those dark eyes growing impossibly darker in the shadows cast from the sunlight shining in through the windows.
“Those bastards want to bury us alive,” Gu-tak states.
“Mmm,” Yo-han hums his agreement as he watches the disgraced detective angrily clack down his next piece.
The Mad Dog continues as the judge contemplates his next move, “They frame others just to cover their own tails.”
Yo-han can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh at that, picking up a stone.
Gu-tak lets his head roll to rest against his shoulder as he watches the younger man’s placement of the piece.
A long beat passes. Both masterminds just stare at the other.
The former detective breaks first, leaning forward to place his next stone. He says in a lower tone, “Are you sure your pup will be able to survive without you?”
“Mmm.” Yo-han raises his wrapped palm up from his lap for Gu-tak to see. “He has fangs,” he says, smiling something awful and bitter.
“Good, good,” Gu-tak says, leaning back once more.
Looking away and sniffing, the former detective crosses his arms. “Him and Jung-moonie would work well together, I think.”
“Good,” Yo-han echoes the man’s earlier words, feeling something in himself settle at the easy agreement they seem to have reached.
Ga-on will need someone to look after him once Yo-han is gone. Ko In-Guk and Oh Jin-joo will be able to support him on the legal front, but the battles outside the court—so many of his allies are gone. Dead.
Because of Yo-han.
Because of a monster.
Yo-han takes a moment to digest the fresh wave of self hatred he feels at the thought and then reaches for his next piece.
And that’s when Gu-tak, palming a makeshift shiv and a needle full of something undoubtedly smuggled and illegal, lunges.
—--------------------
“Is he really alive?” a woman asks sometime later, as the bag around Yo-han is unzipped.
“Mmm,” comes the reply, this time much closer and from a man.
Yo-han’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim light inside the back of the moving ambulance as the person closest to him helps pull the plastic back.
The judge blinks rapidly and starts to bend his stiff muscles and will them back into working order. With no help, Yo-han is proud to say, he manages to sit up.
He hears the woman gasp behind him from her spot in the driver's seat, but her surprise doesn’t stop her from driving.
Yo-han ignores her and lets his gaze flick down to his front.
A bloodied blue jumpsuit and white undershirt greet him, with ugly, sluggishly bleeding slashes marring his chest and arms, deceptively gruesome and, yet, not deep at all.
It looks like he was attacked by a wild animal.
Mauled.
Which, in a sense, he was.
“Judge Kang?” the man sitting next to him says.
Yo-han finally looks at the man who’s actively aiding his escape. He’s young, but not as young as Ga-on, with swooping brown bangs and a handsome face. The youngest Mad Dog team member, Lee Jung-moon. A diagnosed psychopath, genius, and exonerated serial killer. A murderer only in self-defence and agonizing grief.
A young man who is currently handing Yo-han a water bottle and a granola bar now that he’s gained the judge’s attention.
Taking the items, Yo-han questions, “Jung-moonie?” just to see if he can get a reaction.
The psychopath blinks at the nickname, but otherwise doesn't react, while the woman up front snorts. “I see Mr. Oh’s doing fine.”
“Mm,” both Yo-han and Jung-moon hum in tandem.
The judge’s gaze snaps to the young man’s, who only tilts his head, face blank, matching his stare.
Yo-han doesn’t like it.