Chapter Text
He was a monster in the form of a man.
Sitting at the office's main table, hands trembling as she beheld the true extent of his savage nature, Hong Cha-Young took a deep breath to collect her thoughts.
It was so easy to forget for that angelic face could be so gullible and eyes could hold so much warmth. He could be so clueless and dorky but methodically cruel and violent - and that is the duality that defined Vincenzo Cassano. A walking mass of contradictions that was both charming and terrifying at the same time. Neither was a lie - he simply was both. To his enemies he was a wrathful devil incarnate. To his friends and loved ones he was the indomitable rock that they could all shelter under.
And now the rock - her rock - was there no longer.
Ahn Gi-Seok was the one who delivered the investigation report to her. “To be honest I’d rather you not see it,” The NIS agent had said uncomfortably as he withheld the packet from her; “Is it not enough to know that they got what they deserved?”
“If I don’t read the report, how will I know that?” She held out her good hand expectantly. “Come on, hand it over.”
Ahn Gi-Seok had surrendered the packet with great reluctance. "I must ask you to understand that the consigliere is... very creative. Please don't change your mind about him."
Hong Cha-Young glared at the man, who scuttled away under the force of her anger. She, change her mind? Does he even realize who he is talking to? She is Hong Cha-Young, the woman who saw through the innocent lawyer facade to glimpse the ruthlessness underneath. She knew what he had done, the blood he carried on his hands long before he even told her. Accepted the lie he told, because she understood he was afraid of being alone again.
But the first picture that fell out of the packet nearly made her recant her words.
It was truthfully just a badly burnt corpse, twisted in the agony of death. There was still enough identifying features that allowed her to see that it was Choi Myung-Hee, her face locked in unmistakable terror. Even through the macabre still image Cha-Young could almost smell the acrid burn, the charred flesh, and her right shoulder ached - a discomfort that made her reflexively toss the photo aside to read the report.
Choi Myung-Hee, cause of death: Smoke inhalation and/or cardiac arrest from extreme pain due to third-degree burns. Autopsy indicated signs of injuries sustained before and the nature of the death is suspected homicide. Estimated time of death, 3.00 a.m. - 4.00 a.m. 02 May 2021.
He tortured her before setting her on fire.
The perverse part of her, weary from the extended bitter battle with Babel purred in satisfaction. She wondered - in her last moments, what did Choi Myung-Hee look like? Was she angry? Was she defiant? Did she beg for her life? Cha-Young’s imagination ran with several scenarios, all of them involving the zumba snake crying with snot and blood running down her face. Her shrieking voice would be cracked from begging and pleading, maybe she tried to cut a deal too. Cha-Young wouldn't put it past her to try that eventhough she had nothing to offer. Knowing Vincenzo’s penchant for theatrics he would have made her suffer slowly, painfully to the end.
The sad thing is, Cha-Young may never know the truth.
She pulled out the next photograph… and promptly dropped it. Cha-Young rushed to the sink and violently threw up, head spinning. Her throat burned, her eyes watered, but even then Cha-Young willed herself not to shed tears. She would be disgusted, but she will not feel pity.
It took her a few moments to steel herself and sit down at the table again. The photo she dropped was just… something out of a horror film. Jang Han Seok - still recognizable despite being covered in blood, one eyeball missing and parts of his body looking like they had been mauled by animals - stared back unseeingly at her.
Don’t you know how much I love you, sunbae?
The memory tore a scornful laugh from her.
The second photo was of the contraption that apparently killed him. A drill rig, set on an automatic timer. It was bloodied, crude yet elegant in its simplicity. Like the man who set it up, the rig was unfeeling, seeing its mission through to the end.
Jang Han-Seok, cause of death: Blood loss. Estimated time of death, 11.40 a.m. 02 May 2021.
He had bled out slowly, painfully, as the drill inched its way through his body, millimetre by millimetre.
Cha-Young truly laughed then. Not because she was happy or because she felt justified - it was because she had the urge to react in some way - either she laughed, or she cried. And she would not cry. She had no sympathy for this man, who had taken everything from her and had the nerve to profess he loved her.
With the laughter came the kind of lightness that she had never experienced before. Vincenzo had fulfilled his promise. He had torn them apart piece by piece and then when there was nothing else left, Vincenzo had seen fit to take their lives in the most excruciating way possible.
They were monsters, true, but Vincenzo was an avenging god.
Cha-Young swept the photos away and rested her head in her hand, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She remembered a time that seemed so long ago when she witnessed another man dying from explosives strapped to his body, the trigger in Vincenzo’s hands. Remembered his question. Do you want to stop?
He was giving her a way out then. In so few words, he was giving her the chance to walk and let all the burden be on him. Because he knew what Cha-Young wanted to deny - that while she may be angry enough to kill, one does not live in perpetual rage. Eventually the anger will subside and sense will prevail, and she might not feel so justified. She was not him, a creature forged by neglect and tragedy. Her heart was still warm vibrant and alive and she still feels so much.
Vincenzo was a monster, but he did not want others to be one.
To what point, she wondered, must one’s soul be pushed so far that the sight of blood no longer phases him? That the red smears on one’s face and hands no longer register, that he treats that thing - which people recoil from in horror - just like dirt on his hands?
And yet it was with those hands, still stained and crusted with the blood of the one who killed her - that achingly cradles his mother’s lifeless face with, crying for her. Those hands - stained with Choi Mung-Yee and Jang Han-Seok’s accursed blood - had pulled Cha-Young close to him and held her tight, saying more than his words ever could. She was not blind. She was aware, as much as he was not, that by accepting that part of him she too was stained.
And she did not care. Because even villains, even monsters should not bear anything alone.
Cha-Young straightened up, took a deep breath and gathered back the reports and photographs, sliding them back into the envelope. The reality is, Vincenzo is anything but a simple man and the things he does are incredibly difficult to come to terms with. She understood justice, he understood equal measure. At some point their path merged, but he had always stressed that when all is said and done, he would take his leave.
From the beginning Vincenzo was aware of his own cruelty and wanted to spare her the pain, because she knew he did not want this path for her.
But Cha-Young understood, and she accepted it. She accepted him. She accepted his terms and worked to keep up with his methods with a straight face even though inside, she struggled greatly. And when he chose to leave, she never begged him to stay. And why should she, when he had already given her his word?
I promise you, I will come back.
In Vincenzo fashion, it was what he did not say that truly mattered. The confidence in his smile, the gentleness in his eyes. The unspoken bond that filled the space between them and reassured her that this magnificent creature would never fail her. In a world of lies and changing loyalties, Vincenzo was the only constant, and he was by her side.
Things would be hard with him gone, she knew. But she was prepared. She was ready. She may not know a hundred ways to kill people but she knew a thousand ways to win in the courtroom. And he did not exactly leave her alone - she had allies who were capable and loyal. She would get through this and win. And one day when he makes good of his promise to come back to her, she will be waiting; strong, proud and victorious.
Afterall, she smiled at the portrait of her father on her desk; she was Hong Cha-Young, ace attorney and her father’s daughter. She will not yield damnnit.