Ch.168163 – Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office

Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office.

With 234 prosecutors, it’s the largest district prosecutors’ office in the country. All politically and economically significant cases fall under its jurisdiction.

The prosecution is often described as a quiet battlefield. Despite handling cases that shake the entire nation, the interior remains eerily silent. This isn’t just because there’s rarely any shouting—the walls are lined with highly refined mana that circulates throughout the building, providing nearly perfect soundproofing.

“Why is it so noisy today? Is there some event happening?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t received any notifications about that.”

The Fourth Deputy Chief Prosecutor’s question is met with puzzled looks from the other prosecutors following behind. About a dozen security personnel were waiting in front of the elevator.

The Deputy Chief presses the button for the 13th floor, not knowing what’s happening, but discovers they’re all headed to the same destination.

“You young folks shouldn’t have any business on the 13th floor.”

The 13th floor, where the Chief Prosecutor’s and Deputy Chief Prosecutors’ offices are located, isn’t somewhere people typically visit unless they work in general affairs.

“Ah… the Chief Prosecutor called for us.”

“Really? Why?”

After facing so much concentrated fire from the media lately, he wondered if the man had finally lost his mind.

[13th floor.]

As the elevator doors opened to the automated announcement, dozens of security personnel were already lined up on both sides.

The scene was so unsettling it made him wonder if someone had died.

‘Is this a prosecutor’s office or a gangster hideout?’

Curious, he approached the Chief Prosecutor’s office, then widened his eyes and turned back.

“Wow… someone’s definitely going to die today! Why is that person even here?”

* * *

“Ugh…!”

Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho struggled to move the mountain of documents piled before him.

These were confidential files of the highest order. He wasn’t even sure if he should be allowing an outsider to view them, but what choice did he have?

He simply disliked people like Professor Cheon who enjoyed extraterritorial rights.

“You look displeased.”

“No, not at all! I’m just happy to see your face after so long, brother… just happy!”

“Is this all the material?”

“Huff… puff… Yes. This is everything I have access to. Is it enough?”

“Thanks for your hard work. Why don’t you sit down?”

‘When did you ever treat me like anything but a dog!’

Prosecutor Cheon glared with white eyes, but now was the time for patience.

“I have Bacchus and sikhye. What would you like?”

“I’d prefer if you closed the door first.”

His voice carried an aura with it. Feeling what was now closer to a threat than a request, the man moved.

Click-

Sitting across from Professor Cheon Kyu-jin again, his younger brother nervously glanced around.

Even his long-absent brother couldn’t escape the passage of time—he now had more white hair than black. From a distance, it would appear gray. And he still maintained his preference for formal suits.

“What is it? Just get it over with! A man who hasn’t contacted me in 20 years suddenly brings up a case from 7 years ago? Have you gone senile?”

It was the desperate outburst of a man backed into a corner.

Setting down the file he was reading, Cheon Kyu-jin interlaced his fingers and said:

“The survivor of the Walpurgis incident. You knew about it, didn’t you?”

The prosecutor was taken aback by his low voice.

“How did you…?”

“Sigh… Jeong-ho.”

“Why are you standing up? Brother, I can explain everything! And do you know how many eyes are watching outside?”

Prosecutor Cheon gritted his teeth and stopped his brother from standing. This was why he had stationed security personnel outside—they might not protect him, but they could at least serve as human CCTVs.

“Cheon Se-min is at our house looking after my daughter. I need to get back home soon, so let’s wrap this up quickly today. Please.”

“Se-min? That kid never studies when he should… Wait, what? Daughter?”

‘I must have heard wrong.’

It was like hearing “mint chocolate pizza”—words that should never be combined.

Prosecutor Cheon doubted his ears and asked again.

“NoName. That’s the name of the brave girl who became our daughter a few months ago.”

“…”

A unique name impossible to forget once heard.

It was certain.

“Where were you and what were you doing last year?”

Professor Cheon pulled out a portable magic circle generator from his sleeve.

It suddenly extended to the length of a staff, which he struck on the floor with a thud. Mana resonated from it, spreading throughout the Chief Prosecutor’s office.

In an instant, a massive magic circle covered the floor like a carpet.

[Casting: Local Crystallization]

[Innate Magic: Ice Flower]

An intensely cold chill arose.

Every breath Prosecutor Cheon exhaled turned to ice and fell weakly to the floor.

Turning his head to check the magic circle, the prosecutor’s face turned pale.

Thousands of ice spikes were now floating in the air, all aimed at his throat.

“Haha…”

Prosecutor Cheon gave a bitter smile as he stared at his brother with terrified eyes.

Regardless, Cheon Kyu-jin pointed his staff at his mouth and pressed him:

“It would be best if you answered honestly.”

The mage’s eyes still glowed ominously blue as he glared at the Chief Prosecutor.

* * *

The time goes back to June of last year.

“Are you her guardian?”

“Not her guardian, but something similar. Where is the child?”

“I’ll guide you.”

On the day NoName was rescued, Prosecutor Cheon rushed to Asan Hospital to confirm her identity.

When he saw the girl in the hospital room, he had to ask the doctor again because her appearance was so different from what he expected.

She looked only about five years old. She seemed too young to be a survivor of the Walpurgis incident.

“How old is she?”

“Excuse me… are you really her guardian?”

“I’m Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho from Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office. This is related to the case, so I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

“Ah… yes…”

Exactly 7 years old, 103cm tall, and weighing 15.8kg.

Her limbs were nothing but bone, with her abdomen slightly distended.

Prosecutor Cheon, who occasionally donated to UNICEF, recognized these as symptoms of severe starvation.

According to Detective Ma Beom-il, mana had been continuously flowing from the capsule for unknown reasons, which had kept her alive until now.

While the news of her survival was cause for joy, the child’s precarious condition left him troubled.

“Is the child in very bad condition?”

“We’ll need to wait until she regains consciousness and undergoes thorough examination to know for sure.”

“What’s your assessment right now, doctor?”

“Hmm… based on the AI diagnosis, it could be Lennox-Gastaut syndrome, some form of muscular dystrophy… in my opinion, it looks like EDMD or CMD, and Restakaya syndrome combined… To be honest, it’s very difficult. It would be a miracle if she survives another month, and even if that miracle happens, she likely won’t live beyond a year.”

“What exactly is wrong with her?”

“Well, she’ll likely have difficulty maintaining her posture, but the main issue is probably her aura heart. When continuously exposed to high-mana environments, the aura heart adapts to that, making it difficult to survive in normal environments. To use a simple analogy, it’s like a fish that lived in clean river water suddenly being moved to an algae-filled lake.”

“She’ll die from lack of oxygen?”

“That depends on how well the patient can adapt.”

If only she had been rescued just a year earlier, would she still be in this condition?

Prosecutor Cheon couldn’t hide his troubled feelings.

He wandered around the hospital lobby, deep in thought.

Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho had been promoted to Third Deputy Chief Prosecutor at Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office for his work in uncovering all charges against the Walpurgis agents at the Jeju District Prosecutors’ Office.

After serving as Chief Prosecutor in various regions like Cheongju and Suwon, he eventually secured the position of Seoul Central District Chief Prosecutor.

Having helped extend a precarious administration by five more years, he had caught the ruling party’s eye and was now in a position to aim for the next Prosecutor General.

‘If I reveal right now that this child is a survivor of Walpurgis, that alone could be a huge achievement.’

The government had always regretted not being able to rescue the hostages.

In other words, this was an opportunity to erase the ruling party’s only blemish.

‘Is this really the right thing to do…?’

She was the only survivor of the incident.

That meant she would be prey that politicians from both ruling and opposition parties would rush to claim.

The ruling party would use the child to justify their military operation by claiming they rescued a hostage.

The opposition would highlight the child’s suffering to demand a reinvestigation of the incident.

Especially in the current political climate with evenly split support rates, it was obvious they would all come running with fire in their eyes.

Neither path would be good for the child.

“Sigh… such a pity, truly a pity.”

A life of being dragged around by politicians would be too cruel a fate for a child with a terminal diagnosis.

After staying up all night deliberating, Cheon Jeong-ho finally decided to cover up the case and hide the child.

In today’s world, one could live without Korean citizenship without much issue.

“Hello. Is this your first visit to Merlin Orphanage?”

“Yes. I’m not here to see the children… I’d like to make a donation.”

“May the Lord’s grace be with you! Please come this way. Are you interested in child sponsorship?”

“No. Due to personal circumstances, I can’t do that. I’d like to donate for facility repairs and renovations.”

“Ah, yes! How much were you thinking of donating?”

“Hmm…”

As he was about to take out several million-won checks from his wallet, the man paused.

Wanting to avoid direct association with NoName was ultimately an act stemming from his own self-preservation and selfishness.

Feeling displeased with himself, Prosecutor Cheon put his wallet back in his rear pocket and said:

“200 million won. That should help with operating costs for at least a year, right?”

* * *

Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho exclaimed in amazement.

“Wow… this little one has grown so much…!”

Professor Cheon showed him a photo taken with NoName on her academy enrollment day.

Her appearance was completely different from before, leaving him speechless.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Professor Cheon relayed NoName’s opinion.

But Prosecutor Cheon crossed one leg over the other, showing his displeasure.

“So you’re saying it was planned well in advance? When was it revealed that those progressive radicals were just spreading rumors? Do you want to be arrested for conspiracy to commit insurrection too?”

There had been spies sent by North Korea to drive a wedge between UN forces and South Korea until recently.

“I believe NoName. She’s not a child who would say such things thoughtlessly.”

“You’ve gotten soft in your old age. Haven’t you seen those people screaming for reinvestigation at every memorial service? There are no bereaved families among them! Well, maybe you’d find one if you looked hard enough. They’re all just people trying to gain political positions!”

It was a closed case, and they couldn’t waste investigative resources on it.

Blaming the UN forces now would be tantamount to opposing the already turbulent international political situation.

“It’s what our NoName wants.”

“Oh my, you’ve become such a doting father. Even if it were true—which it won’t be—you know I can’t get the Prosecutor General position, right? Given my position, I can’t help. It’s not a pleasant reality for me.”

Cheon Jeong-ho wasn’t without ambition.

Though he had been demoted to Jeju District Prosecutors’ Office early in his career, he had clawed his way back up, becoming a success story celebrated within the prosecution.

If NoName’s claims were true, it was impossible to predict how far up the chain the cuts would go.

He himself would likely be demoted from Prosecutor General to some research position at the Judicial Research and Training Institute.

“You can only view the case records here. Absolutely no taking them outside. Even for Brother Byeong-ho.”

That was the last consideration Chief Prosecutor Cheon Jeong-ho could offer his brother.

Ding-

Professor Cheon’s phone rang softly.

It was a message from NoName.

[Professor Cheon, can I take a week off from the academy? I suddenly have a lot to do.]

“Who is it? Your daughter?”

“Yes. She’s complaining about not wanting to go to the academy. What should I do in situations like this?”

“That’s typical for her age.”

“Raising a child is really difficult.”

“Did you think it would be easy? Even raising Se-min was such a struggle.”

Prosecutor Cheon nodded.

“Jeong-ho.”

“Are you leaving now? Please go quickly… What kind of trouble is this after years of no contact? Damn, my neck is stiff.”

“Thank you for your help. So today, you’ll just take one hit.”

“What… why?! I did everything you asked!”

“Our NoName said you made things very difficult for her.”

“You’re crazy… your personality hasn’t changed at all! Who knew that doctor would be a quack!”

That evening, Kim, the secretary, was able to go home with a sense of satisfaction after seeing his boss’s swollen face.

Prosecutor Cheon had to go to the hospital alone because his staff had already left for the day.

“These damn Alpha generation kids… leaving right at quitting time when their boss is still working? Kids these days have no concept of respect.”

He wasn’t pleased with how rapidly the world was changing.