Min-jun

**Min-jun Kim** is Sung-ho's partner in the murder case of Tadashi; a determined but good-natured officer of the law.

## **Physical Appearance**

Like Sung-ho, Min-jun is breathtakingly handsome, as well as tall.

## **Personality and Traits**

Being a former marine and a current police officer, Min-jun is a very kind-hearted, affable, and selfless man with a conscience who never wants to hurt anyone for his personal gain. He is even very friendly with the criminals he catches and apologizes to them every time he arrests or interrogates them.

Min-jun is very sympathetic and protective of families who lost their loved-ones, either because of murder or suicide, and cannot imagine the anguish of losing a loved-one, as he is prone to bring justice for them. Unlike Sung-ho who thinks all criminals and villainous people are scumbags who deserve to rot in prison, Min-jun still shows his kindness who feels bad for his foes, because he knows that the evil people will always be unhappy and unsatisfied in their cruel lives.

## **Role in Season 1**

### ***Your Eyes Tell***

```
**Case Number: A/M 27/04/20/1246**
Incident: Murder

Reporting Officer: Police Officer Min-jun Kim

Date of Report: 27. December 2023

1. On 27.012.2023, the 24-year-old victim Tadashi Satō was reported deceased by several witnesses.  Most recently, the male victim was seen around 9:30 p.m. at the so-called "Bar 81" in Seoul.

2. Street, No. 1890-1891. According to reports by the victim's witness, he is said to have moved away from the last place of residence independently at said time.

3. After initial investigations, surveillance recordings had spotted the victim around 9:35 p.m. at the emergency exits of "Bar 81" no. 1890-1891 and the alleyway in the night.

4. Show street. After leaving the site, the track got lost.

5. So far, no claims have been made by third parties.

6. Follow-up reports will follow.

```

The night is dark and rainy when they emerge onto the sidewalk, walking briskly towards where Sung-ho had parked to escape the late autumn air. Every silence that falls between them in the car is filled by the measured pace of the wipers while Min-jun busies himself with readying his notebook, writing down the date, time, and the neighborhood for future reference. Both of them are well-known for being detail-oriented and meticulous -- it’s a reason they work so well together -- but it also manifested itself in their personalities, which can make them difficult to work with for someone on the outside. If he was irritated by their previous conversation, he doesn’t show it as he speeds through the lights slightly above the speed limit, getting the address sent to him via his computer GPS and not bothering with the route once he sees where it is. The traffic wasn’t terrible for the time of day and the time shows three minutes after the half hour when they arrive at Songpa-gu, Olympic-ro, 300 롯데월드타워, moving through at a snail’s pace around all the people and parking just in front of the crosswalk. A swarm of police vehicles, officers, and civilians are already crowding around the entrance to the scene, which is clearly marked-off with yellow tape to keep people back and it’s flanked by two stern-looking men in uniform, their faces vaguely familiar. Sung-ho gets out first, bowing a bit to the men in greeting, and they move the tape up for the two of them. He shows his badge to prove his identity and the crowd waiting just pasts the entrance split down the middle, leaving a space for Min-jun to slip through as he leads the way down the slope and into the shade of the alleyway, the temperature physically dropping as they decline just past a few dumpsters. The civilians are shouting questions at him, revealing their identity as journalists, but he ignores them. He can’t explain a situation he knows nothing about and it had always bothered him the way journalists descend on a scene desperate for information, seeing the body as a story and not as a human-being. The victims and their families deserve respect like anyone else. “You’d think it was an idol or something with all the damn people here,” Min-jun grumbles, his voice nearly getting carried away. “This isn’t the first death in Seoul and it won’t be the last. Their interest will never make sense to me. How did they even find out so fast?” Sung-ho shrugs, letting the warmth from his coffee cup brush across his face as they approached the scene. He knows most journalists simply want the truth but a lot of them take it further than that, desperate for anything they can sell to the masses. Robberies and, to an extent, corruption doesn’t interest them but a body draws them in like nothing else. At least this particular location keeps them from seeing too much, although it would inconvenience those who worked in the building next to the crime scene. “What are we looking at?” Min-jun asks when he fails to answer, tucking his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. It’s cold for early November and the breeze in-between the two buildings are near constant, his black hair unwilling to stay on his forehead. “Judging by the crowd out front, I’m guessing homicide. They have a nose for this sort of thing, you know.” Do-hoon, their forensic science technician, nods in response to the question or perhaps the statement and when he steps aside, Min-jun flinches ever so subtly, swallowing the curse that’s making its way up his throat. Sung-ho, however, has no such reservations. “Jesus. The son of bitch really did a number on him, didn’t he?” Sung-ho crouches, pushing his long coat behind him, and pulls on the gloves that are handed to him. Min-jun does the same, passing his coffee off to a nearby officer, and walks around Sung-ho’s other side to get the full picture. It’s nothing he has ever seen before and it fascinates him, even if it’s grotesque. It’s not the scene of your average murder. Instead, it has the presentation of the type you always see in dramas. It’s the sort of crime scene a detective can only dream about, the sort that can make a career. The body is of a very young-looking male -- presumably a high-schooler no less -- who is completely slumped, his legs spread out. He’s wearing a blue tweed blazer jacket, alongside black skinny jeans. He is fractured by countless gashes across the skin of varying thicknesses and depths. They crisscross his chest, dividing the section into pieces that are still attached. It’s impossible to tell how many of them there are due to the dried blood that blurs all the lines and the lonely overhead light provided little illumination. Crimson drips thickly from the victim’s plump lips, mixing with saliva as it fell to join the growing trail on his chest. His facial structure was also interestingly unique. He is small and petite. Looking at his face Min-jun sees neither a boy nor a man but something trapped between. Eighteen he might have been, but he had yet to lose the lingering vestiges of his teenage years. His features seemed too large to be called mature from his large eyes to his button nose, to that plumpness of a mouth of his. Despite his features being very cherubic yet masculine, Min-jun can’t shake his initial feeling upon studying him. He was an adult child. He was trapped between two worlds. He had long, dark lashes that framed his gentle eyes. His lips were full and pink, and his chin was sharp yet soft. This combined with his petite frame and slight build, made him the picture of purity. An extremely large pool of blood around him on the ground. His blazer sliced-up from the lacerations. Aside from that, the body was seemingly devoid of any wounds -- defensive or otherwise. It was almost perfect, if not for the lack of life. “What do you think?” Min-jun asks, not addressing anyone in particular. “In your professional opinion, of course.” “Well,” Sung-ho says, squatting in front of the victim head to examine his throat. “I think the cause of death was this slit here but we’ll get a second opinion. A professional one, if you will. Whoever they are, they know what they’re doing and I’m sure the coroner will agree with me. It doesn’t look jagged or uneven. His hands are clean, with no defensive marks, and there is very little blood.” “What about the other punctures?” “That’s conclusive with a fall,” Dohoon interjects, examining it through the lens of his camera. “It’s possible he could have been at the restaurant and had too much to drink. He could have lost his balance; the inclined streets can be tricky if you’re inebriated. Or the killer was there, one of the two.” Min-jun nods. “Yes, that makes sense. It’s an odd scene, though. I wonder what his motivation is for such a display.” Min-jun crouches near the victim’s black leather, high-heeled boots to inspect with a feather-light touch, making sure not to move the victim in any way. “Any theories, Dohoon-*hyung*? Sung-ho-*ah*?” Sung-ho sighs and crosses his arms, hoping that if he looks long enough something will jump out at him. The presentation is less obvious, less showy and dramatic. He gets the sense that if there had been, the body would have been found sooner. The sooner it was found, the more intact the display would be. There is nothing about it that suggests he thought the victim was special, that the relationship between them had been personal. It felt hollow. “He didn’t care about him,” Sung-ho says quietly, a bit hesitant. “Not like the last time, if it’s even the same person. I mean, think about it. No-one found him for several hours. If the killer wanted us to see the body, he would have left the body where he couldn’t be ignored.” Min-jun frowns, interested but not convinced. “He left the boy where he couldn’t be seen and apparently people just walked right past, not hearing screaming or anything. Maybe visibility has nothing to do with it.” “Well, if that’s true then why showcase the body? Why make a spectacle of the murder by just leaving it? He was killed here, wasn’t he?” He directs the last part to Do-hoon, who nods. “Most likely. There’s a lot of blood.” “It’s messy,” Min-jun adds, catching on. He straightens, heading in the direction that Do-hoon had pointed, careful not to step on any tracks. “There’s blood everywhere, on the ground and on his body. It’s splattered on the wall behind him like abstract art. The killer paid special attention to how the victim looked and how the victim was perceived. Why maul him in such a way?” Sung-ho hums to indicate that he agrees. “And in doing so, he failed to preserve this victim’s unique beauty. This was personal but in a different way. It’s almost like the killer was annoyed by him. He didn’t bother to clean-up or move him or take any of the belongings. I wonder if it was spontaneous. I wonder if he killed him to scratch an itch rather than to make a point. A sign of a young or inexperienced killer, usually. Veterans know how to be patient.” “That’s interesting,” Min-jun says, pointing at him as he makes his way backwards and to the side. “That’s really interesting. I think you’re onto something. But come here, look at his. Does it look like a partial print to you?” Sung-ho makes his way to beside the dumpsters, stepping over the things Min-jun had avoided, and squats to better see in the low light. It does look like a print, left in a mixture of blood and what appeared to be mud. He isn’t an expert but it looks to be the half with the heel. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s reckless but it’s lucky for us. I’m not surprised though. The scene is so messy it would be hard not to step in any of this, especially if you did it in the spur of the moment and were just trying to get it done rather than trying to get it right.” “Could it be a copycat?” Min-jun wonders, motioning for Do-hoon to photograph the print up close so it can be casted for evidence, which he does. “The energy is different. Is it possible that someone is trying to mimic what happened with the other murder four years ago given all the attention it has received in the media?” “I guess,” Sung-ho says, treading back over towards the victim’s lifeless body. “It’s early but there’s a precedent for it; it’ll just take time to prove. It’s nearly impossible to create a signature with just one murder and I hate to be the one to say it but we’ll never be able to identify it if he doesn’t kill again.” Min-jun gives an exaggerated exhale, vibrating his throat, and joins him near the entrance. With their initial investigation over, the other forensic technicians move in to finish the photographing and to prepare the body for transport, a job Sung-ho doesn’t envy. Once at the entrance of the alleyway, they remove the gloves and shoe protectors, disposing of them with the officer who comes to collect them. “Do we know who found the body? Have any witnesses come forward, do you know? Or should I speak with Beomseok-ssi?” “He would know better than me. He was talking with the man who’d called it in, I believe. Over by where you came in.” Sung-ho and Min-jun go in search of him, and found Officer Beomseok near the entrance. He’s mid-conversation with another man, a civilian or perhaps a journalist who was dressed in suit pants and a polo, and the officer smiles upon seeing the pair, all of them bowing when they come together. “Oh, good. Just the people I wanted to see. Gentlemen, this is Park Dongsun. He is a shop owner who discovered the body. Dongsun-*ssi*, these men will want to ask you some questions. Is that okay?” He nods and Beomseok steps back, giving them space, and Min-jun steps forward in his place, his light-hearted demeanor from earlier fading away. “I’m Detective Min-jun Kim,” he says, shaking the man’s hand and then stepping back so that Sung-ho can do the same. “This is my partner, Detective Sung-ho Kwon. Can you walk us through what happened?” “Yes, of course.” He points to the entryway to his left, which is blocked off by the yellow tape. The faces of the journalists are visible just beyond, still a murmuring swell in the background. “I walked through that entrance there so I could get my car and go home and when I passed the section marker, a homeless man ran up to me in hysterics; horrified. He told me he discovered a dead body, and I went to check it out myself, and the poor kid was there. It was in plain sight and I thought it was a mannequin at first since no-one else had reported it. This is usually a busy area.” “What time was this?” Sung-ho asks, his notebook out but not open. “About ten or so, maybe a little before. I’m sure of it.” “You didn’t see anyone else or hear anything unusual?” Min-jun asks. He’s taking notes more furiously than Sung-ho. “Anything helps, even if it seems insignificant.” “Not that I can recall. This place has cameras though, I think. You could check them.” “We’ll do that, thank you. And you said your name was Park Dongsun, yes?” He confirms that it was and Sung-ho passes over a business card from his wallet. “If you think of anything else, this is our direct line. Feel free to call whenever or leave a message.” He agrees he will and Sung-ho pushes Min-jun gently towards the car, giving one last look back at the body. Do-hoon is taking wide-shots from above and at an angle while another technician is preparing the surrounding area for transport, his point of view overtaken by other officers closing in, masks on and hands covered.

    Once they are free from all the voices, Min-jun exhales heavily and gets back in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start it right away, however. He just stares out the window, his eyes unfocused, as Sung-ho got settled in the limited space. It takes him one and then two tries to get the seatbelt in properly but Min-jun doesn’t even blink as he struggles. He supposes he’s used to it after years of exposure. “You felt it too, didn’t you?” he asks softly. He doesn’t wait for Sung-ho to respond before he continues. “There’s something bigger going on here, I know it. This isn’t some random kill. You don’t just lay out people like sacrifices because you’re bored. This bastard is trying to tell us something specific and I’ll be damned if I don’t figure out what it is.” “What are you saying, hyung? That he’s just getting started?” Sung-ho doesn't like the thought of something so sinister and unknown lurking around densely populated neighborhoods but he also knows that the murder has the potential to be the beginning of everything. Some cases alter your career forever and this can be one of those cases, if Min-jun’s gut feeling is right; it usually is and that is what unnerved him. Min-jun turns to face him, holding up his notebook for emphasis. “I’m saying anything’s possible and that we should prepare for the worst. You never know with a city like Seoul.” The police and the technicians are quickly swallowing the scene, removing all evidence via carefully labeled bags, and none of them are taking any questions that the countless reporters asked.