The old detective was out of breath, his knees were sore, and sweat dripped off his wrinkled forehead.
He stopped, leaned his shoulder against the cold stone wall, panting, his hands on his thighs for a moment, trying to recover his breath.
In front of him, the street was plunged into darkness for several meters, but a failing bulb illuminated the end of the alley, flashing with irregularity.
The suspect had probably turned the corner, which meant he was now stuck in the deadlock because of the works.
Baek Do Shik had lost none of his intuition or his ability to remember all the details that could be useful during an investigation.
- "Come on, you can do it, big buddy."
He straightened up and went off again, elbows to the body. His breath flared up like a cloud in the cold night.
He saw the shine of the metal only a split second before realizing the man had been hiding in a corner of the wall. He had no time to defend himself. The knife ripped of his jacket, tore the sheepskin lining and blew two buttons, before plunging into his flesh.
He gasped, eyes wide. His big hands tried to grab the handle, unconsciously pushing away the arm that had struck.
The suspect pulled out the blade with a snap and took a step back.
The old detective fell to his knees, panting. He heard the footsteps of his attacker go away, but could only see a shadow running away along the oddly angled street.
The stone wall was diluting and the yellow glow of the streetlight seemed unreal.
The pain pierced the fog and he groaned, falling to the side.
Ah ... I'm dying ...
He gasped, pressing his hand to the wound to keep the blood from spurting, hot, in between his fingers.
The ground was so cold. Close to his face, a piece of paper flapped, trapped in an asperity of the road.
Something soft landed on his cheek.
Oh, it's snowing.
He closed his eyes and smiled.
It's over.
Memories swirled in his head, like dancers, signing to him. Places, the happy thrill when he saw the young librarian, the horrific murders, arranged meetings that had never ended with a wedding, all these kids he had trained, that store where black noodles were the best ...
For all this time ... I should have asked the seller what was his name ...
And that day of sunny rain when he had met the members of Team TEN ... and that other day when they had each gone their ways ...
The dark eyes of Yeo Ji-Hoon, their fights and their hard-won friendship ...
Park Min-Ho's laughter, the way the rookie had taken a liking to him and followed him around all these years ...
Nam Ye Ri, who had saved them all. Nam Ye Ri who was like a light and did not know it. Nam Ri Ye who had offered them the wonderful gift that was Seong Hee.
- "Araboeji!"
The little voice sing sang near him.
He opened his eyes.
- "Araboeji, are you sick?"
A small hand, soft as silk, was placed on his forehead. Tiny fingers touched his nose, smoothed a wrinkle.
The little girl cocked her head to the side.
- "Araboeji?"
She was crouched beside him, puzzled, her knees gathered under her immaculate percale dress. Her long white curls were tied with a blue ribbon and haloed her like an angel.
She frowned.
- "You shouldn't sleep on the ground. It's dirty."
He chuckled, which made him cough and spit blood.
- "A little dirt won't do anything to Araboeji, sweetie."
- "But Oppa will make fun of you. He'll say you stink."
- "He'll see if I get him! I'll make sure he'll stop laughing at me", the old man growled playfully.
The little girl giggled happily.
- "He runs too fast, you won't catch him! But ... Araboeji? Don't you want to get up and go home with me, now?"
He reached out to her, stroked her cheek. She snuggled her face into his palm, like a kitten.
The flakes were still falling, covering the world with white feathers, glittering gently on the shoulders of the child, like pearls.
- "That old man must first take a nap, swetie."
- "Oh."
She leaned over and kissed his forehead.
- "Are you very tired?"
- "Hum."
She sat cross-legged, approached and raised the big round head with gray curls to settle it on her lap.
- "Is it comfy?"
- "Perfect. A real cushion. Will you sing for me?"
- "Yes, sir!"
She sang. Her school nursery rhymes, Ye Ri's lullaby, the drunkyard choruses which lyrics she did not understand and that she had heard when he thought she was asleep in her stroller.
Her voice was clear in the dark backalley.
- "Seong Hee ..."
- "Yes, Araboeji?"
- "On that day, it's you who saved him, you know."
They had arrived, panting, at the top of the building under construction, distraught at the idea of being there too late.
In the vast sky that a scarlet dawn had turned purple, light radiated, turning the clouds into gold.
F was standing there, his revolver in hand, his arms hanging down.
He stared at what he had before him and could not seem to understand it.
Ji-Hoon was lying on the ground, tied up, his head covered with a black cloth. Blood flowed under his chest, but he was alive and seemed to be trying to get up.
Nam Ye Ri was kneeling beside the serial killer, her hands begging, her face streaming with tears.
Standing before dawn, her arms outstretched in protection, a silver whistle in her fist, a little girl with long black curls stared at F, with trembling lips, but her eyes blazing.
Park Min-Ho tripped over a stack of pipes that tumbled noisily.
- "Don't come closer or I'll kill her", the murderer shouted over his shoulder, suddenly raising his weapon.
- "No", said the child.
- "No - what?"
- "Let us go. You hurt my daddy. It's not nice."
The man laughed, and the laughter was scary, like one of a broken puppet.
- "I know", he said at last. "But I still have to kill him, so step away."
- "Why?"
There was a silence.
- "Why?" repeated F.
- "Please ..." Ye Ri whispered through her tears. "Please ..."
None of the police officers who were watching the scene seeking an opening managed to swallow. Min Ho wanted to run to them, but Baek Do Shik held him by his belt.
F reached out without moving the gun pointed at the child and pulled on Ye Ri's hood.
- "You. Remove his blindfold."
Her legs could not carry her anymore, but she staggered to her husband and undid feverishly the cloth.
Ji-Hoon's face, contorted with pain, appeared in the dawn light.
- "Let them go", he uttered. He spat some blood, coughed. "Let us go."
F sniffed disdainfully.
- "And why? What is in it for me? When do I win?"
- "Killing someone is not winning!" cried the little girl angrily.
Her eyes were full of tears that clung to her dark eyelashes.
- "You're mean!"
- "Oh."
The old man with glasses raised an eyebrow.
- "I'm mean?"
- "Yes!"
A sob choked in the throat of the child whose arms were still outstretched to protect her father.
Ye Ri was no longer crying. She was holding Ji-Hoon whose chest was heaving with difficulty and who tried to stay conscious, staring fiercely at the scene.
The killer nodded.
- "That's right."
He smiled at the little girl.
- "You never tell lies, do you?"
Her lips clenched, she did not answer.
He smiled again, and slowly eased down his arm, lowering his weapon.
- "It's funny. You're-"
The gun shot broke in the cold air, cutting his line. For a second he did not move, then he fell back in one go.
Spattered with the blood of the serial killer, Seong Hee uttered a cry of terror and hid her face in her hands.
His father leaned forward and grabbed her in his arms.
The police rushed towards them. Min Ho was first. He undid his jacket and covered Ri Ye who was gasping for air, before turning to the professor to compress the wound with the cloth that had served as a blindfold.
Baek Do Shik ran to the murderer. He put two fingers on the neck of the old man and sighed.
- "He's dead", he announced. "It's over."
- "It's over", sobbed Ye Ri, exhausted.
- "It's over, my love", whispered Ji-Hoon, cradling in his arms the little girl whose hair whitened slowly, as if the rising sunlight was slowly changing it into angel threads.
- "Seong Hee?"
- "Yes, Araboeji?"
- "On this day, it's you who saved him, you know."
- "Appa?"
The old man nodded weakly.
- "Yes. And F as well."
- "When I grow up, I will not allow anyone to harm people", said Seong Hee in a very serious voice, wrapping her fingers in the curls of the detective.
- "You're right, sweetie."
The snow wrapped him in a white and warm coat. It was good. He no longer felt the bite of his injury and it seemed he was breathing better.
- "You're asleep?"
He opened his eyes, looked at the child's face bending over him.
- "Almost."
She smiled.
- "I love you, Araboeji".
- "I love you too."
Far away, like in a dream, he heard sirens. His mobile was flashing beside him. They were searching for him.
But it was not worth it.
He took in his hand the graceful hand of the little girl and kissed it.
- "Seong Hee ... thank you."
She kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes.
- "Good night, Araboeji."
The alley was dark, but snow sparkled on the stones like a carpet of pearls in the glow of their flashlights.
Park Min-Ho stopped short when he saw the body lying on the ground. He threw his head back, inhaled deeply to prevent his tears from flowing, without success.
- "He's dead", someone said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Snow flakes continued to fall on the street and the old detective, almost entirely covered in white.
Min-Ho straightened up, clenched his lips. He put a hand to his forehead and saluted the man who had taught him everything.
The police officers interrupted their work for a while and did the same.
Then the young man approached and knelt beside his old friend. He gently touched the lunar face, so cold and pale on which still wandered a smile.
- "Sunbae? What on Earth were you thinking?"
He wanted to be angry, to tell him he should not have left hunting for a suspect at his age - and alone! - but the words could not crossed his lips.
A strange peace floated around the body and eased his pain.
His eyes wandered over the snow, mechanically seeking a clue, perhaps the knife, something that would tell him the story of the crime scene.
He frowned.
The snow had topped them with a white veil, but yet you could see the contour of soles walking away.
- "Sunbae? You were not alone at that time? Who was with you?"
He smiled, wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his glove.
-"If there was someone with you, that's good..."
He wished he had been there.
He blew his nose in his elbow. His eyes fell on the toothpick tube the detective always had with him and he took it with a smile.
- "Thanks for everything, sunbae", he whispered. "And farewell."
These footprints in the snow were so small, like those of a child.
Or an angel.
