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She's quiet on the way to the station. Pildo had been expecting her to protest, to say he'd gotten it all wrong; or maybe he expected her to defend herself, to make excuses about why she'd done it. He'd been expecting a change, a break in the facade. Instead, he gets stony, uncomfortable silence.
He wants to demand Why did you do it? and Was everything a lie? but it's like her silence enforces his own. The words catch to form a lump in his throat. His grip on the steering wheel tightens until his knuckles turn white. He's got to calm down—he's a cop. She's just another criminal. He inhales and counts to four before his thoughts interrupt again.
Would he really have shot her? He saw her running away and saw red, pulled his gun and fired his warning shots. He was angry enough to do it while her back was turned, in those tense moments when he thought she'd start running again. But by the time she turned around, hands raised—he's not so sure.
As they near their first red light, Pildo realizes he doesn't have to deal with this shit. There's no way in hell he's going to sit and wait for the light to change—patiently obeying traffic laws with a murderer in his passenger's seat. He can't do it, not in this car where the air already feels thick enough to suffocate. He turns on his siren and blows right past the light.
Oh Hyejin would have given him a sly side look that said, Was that really necessary? Maybe the corners of her lips would have tilted up in amusement for the briefest of moments.
The stranger in his passenger seat does nothing at all.
With traffic parting for them, it doesn't take long to arrive at the station. When Pildo gets out of the car and yanks open the passenger-side door, he can't even look at her face. He tries, and it—hurts. So he pretends she's just another perp as he pulls her out of the car and leads her into the station. Just another criminal, and not the woman who had been his partner for the last month.
He shoves her forward as they make their way down the hall, one hand clenched at the back of her collar and the other pulling her cuffed arms back at an angle to keep her off balance. He knows he's being rough, but tells himself it's vigilance. He's seen her fight. He's just being cautious.
Really though, it's because the numbness is wearing off and the anger is settling in. How dare she? How dare she? She'd broken into her captain's house—Pildo's friend's house—a man who had never been anything but kind to her, and she'd tried to kill him. She'd very nearly succeeded. She might yet succeed, from the way the nurses whisper in the halls when they think Pildo isn't looking. And for what? Out of loyalty for the devil himself?
He doesn't care if it was all pretend for her. You don't do that to your captain. He knows it's impossible to comprehend the motivations of a jopok dog, but he also knows his misjudgment of her will haunt him for the rest of his days.
Pildo pushes her around the corner and Na Daesoo comes flying at them. He charges, hand raised and face twisted in fury. Pildo instinctively pulls his partner back, trying to move her out of the way. Ko Gunpyeong grabs Daesoo before he can make contact, yanking him back. Daesoo doesn't look like he appreciates it, but he should. Gunpyeong is saving him from a suspension at best, an immediate termination at worst. Choi Mujin's lawyer would eat him alive.
"Let go," Daesoo demands, but Gunpyeong doesn't listen, throwing Pildo a distraught look. Pildo wishes he could help, but he's got his hands full. He holds her close, instinctually ready to step in-between her and Daesoo. It makes him sick that he's so ready to defend her, so ready to pull her out of harm's way. He hadn't been thinking of Daesoo when he'd done it. He hadn't been thinking at all.
Some of the fight leaves Daesoo, but none of the anger. "To think I considered her a colleague," he spits, tense but defeated. He knows that between Pildo and Gunpyeong, he won't get a crack at her. "Hey, look at me," he demands of her. "Hey." She doesn't look. Trusting Gunpyeong to keep his hold on Daesoo, Pildo pushes her forward again. Daesoo uses the opportunity to lurch forward again and spit the words directly in her face as they pass. Again, Pildo finds himself pulling her back, her shoulder bumping against his chest. He wants to throw up. She was always a snake; he needs to stop thinking of her as his partner. "Your life is over, you traitor asshole. You hear me? Bitch."
Through it all, the stranger in his arms doesn't say a word.
He can't get it out of his head. He can't stop thinking and overthinking, turning everything over in his mind, double guessing every interaction. He knows he shouldn't go to see her. He knows it's a mistake, but it's like he physically can't help himself as he storms down the hallway towards the holding cells. He makes the guard on duty leave, loses his cool, admits things he regrets—and only then does she say her first words.
And those words are: "I didn't stab the captain."
Bullshit, Pildo thinks immediately. Of course you did. You were a mole and your sole purpose was to undermine us at every turn. Giho was on your trail and you tried to kill him to save your cover.
She rises slowly to her feet and turns to face him, and her face still hurts so much to look at. She's twisted her expression to look wretched and determined, and he can't let himself trust it for a second.
"If I tell you," she says, and pauses for a beat too long. "Would you believe me?"
And Pildo realizes she's right.
He would have believed Oh Hyejin. He'd trusted Oh Hyejin. He'd like to believe they were almost friends.
But this woman?
He looks at her from the other side of the bars and almost can't get the words past his throat again.
"No," he agrees, as he realizes it's not a matter of 'would' or 'won't'. "I can't."
There isn't a single thing she could say that Pildo could make himself believe. Not anymore.