Not a Prophet, a Suspect

The sound of the evidence bag sticker being pressed down stayed in my ears even after the oxygen alarm stopped. Im Doyun put the phone into a transparent bag and read the seal number aloud. That number felt colder than the handcuffs on my wrists. Once an object gets a number, it leaves my hands and becomes part of the case.

"Seizure time 07:54. Location, north entrance of Haneul Hospital. Subject Han Igyeom's belongings, one cell phone, one notebook, one sheet listing the deceased."

Seojin cut in immediately. "I object to seizing the entire notebook. It has rescue operation records mixed in. Separate the copy scope first."

Im Doyun didn't look at her as he folded the mouth of the bag. "Objection noted. Rescue related sections to be reviewed for return after copies are made."

"Not review, a standard for return."

"I'll note the standard too."

He didn't get angry. That's why the conversation moved slower. Slow procedure wears people down, but it also leaves fewer lies behind later. I hated that fact even as I watched it play out.

The makeshift interview room was an empty counseling room in the hospital's administrative building. Infection prevention posters were stuck to the glass wall, and three unused bottles of hand sanitizer sat on the desk. Im Doyun lowered the blinds halfway first. Not all the way. From the hallway outside, Jang Yura could still be seen. It was the arrangement of someone who cared more about the record than about preventing escape.

"Han Igyeom, you knew about the possibility of Rescue Chief Jang Yura's death before the Myeongjin Station accident occurred at 06:49."

"That can't be stated as fact."

"Then explain. A call before the accident, entry into Myeongjin Station, movement to the hospital, a list of the deceased. All four items happened before the accident."

He laid photographs on the table one by one. The first was CCTV footage from Myeongjin Station, the scene where I blocked Yura's path and gave up the return server as evidence. The second was the hospital's rear entrance. The third was the folded list. The fourth was my call log. Even I, looking at the names and times, felt suspicious of myself.

Im Doyun didn't connect the photos into a single narrative line. Under each photo he wrote the source and the original location separately. The Myeongjin Station CCTV was a copy from the station office's temporary server, the hospital rear entrance footage was a backup from the administrative building's security office, the list was paper taken from my notebook, and the call log was an internal phone log from before the carrier's response came back. The four seemed to be saying the same thing, but they actually each carried different weaknesses. That made them more dangerous. Even if one turned out wrong, the rest would remain.

"First item." He pressed a finger on the Myeongjin Station photo. "Eleven minutes before Chief Jang's estimated time of death, Han Igyeom blocked Chief Jang's movement. Reason."

"I saw the accident model."

"Second item." The hospital rear entrance photo. "Before Haneul Hospital's oxygen accident was made public, you moved to the hospital's rear entrance. Reason."

"I judged there was danger on the hospital's equipment floor."

"Third item." The list. "Some of the deceased's names were in your notebook before the accident. Reason."

I steadied my breath. "I remembered them."

"Source of the memory."

I couldn't answer. That blank space tied the four items together. Im Doyun didn't record the length of my silence. Instead he wrote one more line of a question. Silence stays on a recording, but a question stays in the document.

"You could say you saw a report," he said.

The sentence sounded like a leading question, but it was actually a way of blocking my exit. If I said I saw a report, I'd be charged with accessing a document not currently disclosed. If I named an insider, I'd have to give a name, and if I couldn't, it would become a lie.

"I can't say that."

"Why not."

"Because it's a report that isn't currently disclosed."

Im Doyun's eyes narrowed just slightly. "How do you know that fact."

I was blocked again. If I said I remembered the cover date of a report disclosed in the future, I'd fall into the same hole as my last answer. The less I answered, the more suspicious I became. But saying more looked like an even bigger lie.

"You can check the return server log."

I regretted it the moment I said it. There was no log. In chapter one, I threw away the server access equipment to save Yura. That choice saved a life, and now it had erased the one thing that could prove me. The reward and the cost came from the same hand.

Im Doyun asked. "Server location."

"The temporary access terminal in the Myeongjin Station disaster modeling room. Damaged in the accident."

"Backup."

"Cannot confirm."

"Not 'cannot confirm,' closer to 'does not exist'."

I lowered my cuffed hands beneath the table. "Closer to does not exist."

"Reason for abandoning the equipment."

"To save Jang Yura."

"Is this a statement that you chose rescue over evidence preservation."

"Yes."

"Do you understand that this choice is currently disadvantageous to you."

"I understand."

Im Doyun didn't attach any emotion to that. On the paper he wrote, "Reason for abandoning evidence: rescue priority." That sentence didn't make me a good person, and it didn't confirm me as a criminal either. The outcome that a person lived and the cost that evidence had vanished were tied to the same line. That line looked like the verdict I most wanted to avoid.

"Were the remains of the Myeongjin Station terminal recovered." Seojin asked.

Im Doyun glanced at the technician.

"The board was damaged by fire and flooding. Some storage media was recovered, but the file system can't be read."

"Any record of recovery attempts."

"Only a first attempt so far."

Seojin wrote that down immediately. "Then it's not confirmed as nonexistent, it's confirmed as recovery incomplete."

Im Doyun nodded once. "Correction noted. At the current stage, unprovable."

It was a small difference. But small differences sometimes consume a person. Seojin wasn't defending me. She was correcting a sentence. What we needed right now wasn't taking sides, it was wording that no one could later change no matter who looked at it.

Im Doyun wrote that sentence down. There was no expression of disbelief, and no expression of victory either.

"Are you planning to say it was regression."

Seojin drew in a short breath. Beyond the glass wall, Jang Yura raised her head. Im Doyun didn't look at my face as he turned a page. It wasn't that he threw out a question to see my reaction, he looked like someone who had already set down one of the possible answers in advance.

"Even if I say it, I can't prove it."

"Is that why you don't say it."

"If a statement that can't be proven makes the scene more dangerous, I hold it back."

"If holding back keeps happening, that's concealment."

He was right. I didn't answer.

Jang Yura's testimony was limited. She said I had contributed to restoring the oxygen supply at the hospital. She said I disclosed the red door condition, that the oxygen alarm stopped, and that patient transport was recorded. But she didn't say she trusted the source of the information.

"It's a fact that Han Igyeom saved lives." Yura said.

Im Doyun asked. "Does that weaken the suspicion of prior knowledge."

"No."

That one word pressed down on the counseling room. Yura was helping me. At the same time, she wasn't setting me free.

"Only, arrest and evidence preservation must not interfere with rescue operations. That condition was met."

"Do you believe Han Igyeom concealed dangerous information."

Yura looked toward me. "He concealed it."

"Then why did you allow access to the scene."

"I didn't allow access. I attached conditions."

"What conditions."

Yura counted them off on her fingers. "First, I independently confirm on site any danger Han Igyeom mentions. Second, the rescue team makes the rescue decisions. Third, if the source of information can't be stated, it's recorded as unidentified. Fourth, even if the source is unidentified, if it's an actionable plan that can save lives, it gets reviewed."

She had no intention of making me a hero. Worse for me, she had no intention of making me a prophet either. If there's an actionable plan, use it. Question the source later. That was how Yura had cooperated with me at the hospital.

Im Doyun asked. "If Han Igyeom had given false information the same way."

"I would have stopped it."

"Grounds."

"Even the red door condition wasn't followed right away at first. I separately checked the oxygen valve, patient transport, and remaining battery. I only executed what could be confirmed."

Yura's answer saved me a little, but at the same time it lowered the authority of my own words. Going forward I would have to persuade people, and persuasion would come with a verification procedure attached before trust. The cost I learned at the hospital didn't end there.

The light on Seojin's recorder blinked faintly.

"Why did you cooperate."

"Because the fact that information was concealed doesn't mean all of it was false. And while lives were being saved, I could make him state his reasons."

Im Doyun wrote that sentence down too. Only sentences that were hard to judge as either favorable or unfavorable to me kept piling up. Real records always make people uncomfortable that way.

Seojin didn't speak like defense counsel. "My original audio is not subject to seizure. If there's a request for submission of a copy, I'll provide it along with the original hash. I won't provide an edited version."

"Is that a refusal to cooperate."

"It's preservation of the original."

"Preserving the original requires a sealing procedure."

"A sealing procedure isn't editing authority."

Im Doyun's pen stopped. "Correct."

He divided the list of seized items again. Original, copy, authorized viewer. Seojin's original audio, since it was press material, wasn't seized immediately, only the hash value and submission time were recorded first. Jang Yura's rescue radio communications remained on the rescue headquarters server, so it was handled as a separate preservation request. My notebook had its field response pages and personal memo pages photographed separately.

"Why are you doing this so slowly." Minchae muttered from outside the door. The glass muffled the sound a little, but it was audible.

Im Doyun didn't answer. Instead he attached one more sticker. Slow procedure delays answers. But when someone later tries to pick out only the unfavorable parts to make a new file, slow procedure sometimes saves a person. I didn't want to admit that fact, but right now what stood closer to my side was a slow seal, not a fast belief.

He handed Seojin a separate evidence bag. There was no sticker on the mouth of the bag yet. Seojin checked for the sticker first. People who didn't trust each other in the same way sat at the table. Strangely, the scene looked a little less dangerous for it.

The list of seized items came up on the terminal inside the interview room. My phone had been switched to airplane mode and was in a sealed state. The screen was off. Im Doyun changed his gloves before taking the photo. The glove packaging rustled.

"Confirming condition of seized items."

The moment he lifted the bag, the screen that had been off turned on. There was no network indicator. No notification sound. In the center of the black screen, a single white sentence appeared.

Movement in the room stopped all at once. Im Doyun didn't drop the phone, and he didn't pull the screen closer either. He stated his own hand position aloud first.

"External contact with the bag only. No direct contact with the screen."

The technician instinctively reached for a cable, and Im Doyun stopped him.

"Photograph before connecting."

The camera shutter clicked three times. The seal sticker, the screen, the corner of the bag. Seojin pushed her recorder closer. Jang Yura pulled people back from the doorway. Even one person startled into stepping forward could create a dispute over seal tampering. Yura didn't explain that, she just blocked it with her body.

"When did you confirm airplane mode." Seojin asked.

"Right after seizure, 07:55. There's a screen capture."

"After that, was it placed in a signal blocking pouch."

The technician answered. "It was. Terminal signal shielding was confirmed."

"Is it still shielded now."

"The bag is inside the shielding pouch. The screen is visible through the transparent window."

Seojin stopped asking questions. She was first sealing off the gaps in a scene that couldn't be believed. The more inexplicable a scene is, the more the holes people leave behind matter. I needed to want that too. The moment my sentence appeared, the easiest path was for everyone to be shocked. The most necessary path was for no one to believe it easily.

The dead do not create branches.

My hand pressed down on the edge of the table. That sentence was one I had written alone in the final control room of the original timeline. A blood stained pen tip had torn the paper, and on the floor where the return core was cooling, I hadn't been able to erase that sentence. I had never told anyone. In this timeline, I hadn't written it yet either.

Im Doyun didn't touch the screen right away. He photographed the outside of the bag first, and checked whether the seal sticker had been tampered with.

"Outgoing message log."

The technician connected the terminal. "None. There's no network connection either."

Seojin pushed the recorder closer to the desk. "You just saw that. You said there's no outgoing transmission."

Im Doyun answered briefly. "Noted for the record."

Jang Yura wasn't looking at my face, only at the screen. She didn't trust me, but she also didn't think I had made the screen appear by myself. Even so, it couldn't be used as evidence to clear me. If anything, it opened a door to even greater suspicion.

Im Doyun said. "Han Igyeom."

"Yes."

"Did you know this sentence."

I searched for a sentence I could lie with. There wasn't one.

"Yes."

"Where did you see it."

I looked at the sealed phone screen. My sentence was floating there in a way that wasn't mine.

"Somewhere I haven't written it yet."