When Sycamore returned to the Central Homicide Unit, all eyes were on him.
His colleagues glanced up from their desks, curious eyes and piercing glares following him. Yet he remained calm and headed toward his workstation, where Jon was waiting, clutching a letter tightly.
Throwing the letter down onto Sycamore's desk, Jon's voice was low and controlled. "Golden time failed. Do you know the consequences of this?"
Sycamore did not respond.
"After the priests, you came back to the search distracted. I know it when you're pretending."
"Pretending to what?" he finally replied.
"Pretending to search for the suspect, goddamn it!" Jon's outburst echoed through the office as he slammed his hand down on the desk, drawing more attention.
"A suspect? What suspect, Lieutenant?" Sycamore countered. He turned to the rows of desks where others were watching.
"You all think this is a game?" Sycamore scoffed. "When will you accept that some cases are done by demons?"
"We've lost a critical lead because you're obsessed with chasing a phantom!" Jon's voice rose.
"And you're so hell-bent on catching a fucking non-existent person!"
"Where has your head gone? We had DNA," Jon said through clenched teeth, emphasizing every word, his voice almost trembling.
"Have you seen the footage, Lieutenant? It's a fucking invisible monster."
Jon fell silent for a moment, his shoulders slumped. He turned away briefly, hands on his hips, exhaling sharply.
"You followed orders before we had enough evidence," Sycamore pressed on, his voice more relaxed.
"The public was enraged. People are scared, Sycamore."
"So the best way was to make up stuff to ease their minds?"
"No..." Jon's words trailed off.
"We could have earned their gratitude if we had pursued this the right way. Why did you follow orders right then, Lieutenant? Are you that desperate for a promotion?"
Jon's face flushed red with anger and shame. Before he could stop himself, he swung a fist at Sycamore, catching him squarely on the jaw. Sycamore staggered back, a cut appearing, red staining his lip.
Sycamore straightened up, seeing Jon breathing hard with seething anger.
He scoffed, looking up and stretching his neck from side to side. He nodded, and again, as he met Jon's eyes.
"Cases like these will always fail," he said, facing Jon, and turned to the whole office. "No room for possibilities in all those narrow heads!" he said, pointing to everyone in the room.
He exited, grabbing the letter from the commissioner.
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Sycamore stood in the middle of the cold room, his gaze fixed on Chief Vonn behind the old mahogany desk. The chief, a stern figure with salt and pepper hair, was meticulously scribbling notes.
"Sergeant Sycamore Yoo, 1st Central Homicide Unit, CID."
The chief paused, setting his pen down. He stood up and walked around the desk, his footsteps echoing faintly in the spacious office. Leaning against the desk, he looked directly at Sycamore with a piercing gaze.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"No, Chief."
"Well." Chief Vonn straightened Sycamore's collar. "Let me remind you." He walked over to a large window overlooking the city, adjusting the room's temperature control panel. The room grew colder as he peered outside, and Sycamore glanced toward him sideways.
"Insubordination, ignoring leads, and for what? A demon."
Sycamore remained silent.
"Do you understand why we do our jobs here, Sergeant Yoo?" The chief turned abruptly, his eyes unwavering. "To protect the public."
He pointed to the flag of East Nara hanging proudly on the wall, its colors vibrant against the cold gray backdrop of the office.
"And what do we do when the public is terrified?" The chief's voice lowered as he stepped closer to Sycamore. "We ease their minds."
"Even now, the media is spitting to our faces. People are not satisfied with the results. 'You could have done more.' 'What are the police doing?' That's what they're saying."
He walked and sat back in his chair and stared at Sycamore, who remained at attention.
"That's why I'm forming a new team."
Sycamore's expression shifted, curiosity piqued as he noticed the smirk on the chief's face.
"Possession Crimes Unit," the chief continued, "To protect our city from demonic threats. Are you up for the challenge, Sergeant Yoo?"
Sycamore nodded. "Yes, Chief."
"Good." Chief Vonn leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Because this won't be like anything you've done before. You'll have autonomy, but also accountability. Failures will rest on your shoulders."
Sycamore took a deep breath. "I understand."
"Then consider yourself the founding member of the Possession Crimes Unit," the chief declared, his smile widening.
"Welcome to PCU front lines, Sergeant Yoo."
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Sycamore's dark circles underlined his exhaustion, now even more pronounced a week after the failed golden time. As he made his way to his new office, he couldn't escape the glares and whispers that followed him. Carrying a box of files and a picture of his wife, he walked sluggishly down the hallway.
He kicked the door open to the office and saw two people inside. His gaze fell on a familiar figure with pale skin that made his skin crawl.
"Sycamore!" Pierrot stood up and tried to help him with the box, but he rejected it. "You're finally here."
Ignoring Pierrot, Sycamore began to unload his belongings.
"This is great, don't you think? We'll be able to solve and save many together," Pierrot continued cheerfully.
"Yeah."
"New member is here, by the way. Arc, greet our new boss."
Arc walked toward Sycamore and bowed deeply. "It's our pleasure to be working with you, Sergeant Yoo."
"What the hell..." Sycamore grimaced at the formal greeting.
"Hahaha!" Pierrot slapped a hand on Arc's shoulder. "Just treat him like your friend, not your grandpa!"
"That would be better," Sycamore muttered, sitting down and turning to Pierrot. "Are you sure he's a priest and not a monk?"
Pierrot chuckled and rubbed Arc's bald head. "He's got an impulsive side."
Sycamore stared at Arc for a moment until the door swung open.
His old team entered the room. Cindy, Kit, and Bryan carried their belongings, placing them on their respective desks.
Everyone wore gloomy expressions and moved lethargically, still reeling from the events of the past few days. Cindy, who seemed to retain some energy, unloaded her things with vigor, the folders slapping loudly onto her desk.
The room fell silent as the others kept their mouths shut.
Yet amidst the tension, Arc approached the three, bowing deeply once more. "It's our pleasure to be working with you."
The three exchanged puzzled glances, unsure how to respond, while Pierrot's laughter echoed through the room.