Chapter 15: Dangerous Individuals
This sound rang out extremely abruptly.
As if it had sounded just outside the interrogation room.
The two officers jumped slightly, hearing footsteps approaching rapidly.
They glared fiercely at Han Su, then hurried to clear the items from the table.
This contrasted sharply with their earlier languid demeanor.
“Thunk.”
At that moment, footsteps reached the interrogation room’s door.
A hand reached out to push it.
But the doorknob was blocked by a chair, so it couldn’t open.
The two officers seized the chance to finish clearing the table, hoping to stall until the camera panned back.
Unexpectedly, the door only made a slight noise—and then opened.
It revealed several tall, slender figures outside.
Han Su and the two officers were startled, sensing something odd.
They fixed their gaze on the door and saw the chair that had been blocking the handle calmly positioned by the door.
Meanwhile, the interrogation room door had swung inward smoothly.
It was as if the earlier block had been only an illusion.
They barely had time to register the strangeness before their eyes fell on the figures standing by the doorway.
Their collars were turned up, hiding half of their faces.
The one in the lead wore black sunglasses.
He glanced at the milk tea and stray hairs left on the table, appearing surprised, then scoffed and smirked.
The agents trailing behind him looked bewildered and disoriented.
This was the Public Security Bureau, their territory, and they were naturally resistant to these unexpected intruders.
But when the man in sunglasses politely requested something, a woman in a slim black suit with short hair—looking extremely sharp—produced a credential.
Outside the door, a portly man who appeared to be a team leader or bureau chief immediately changed expression.
He waved urgently to the other officers— even the two who had been interrogating Han Su didn’t have time to finish cleaning up.
They scrambled out of the room in haste.
Before leaving, they shot Han Su a fierce glare, as if warning him: know what to say and what not to say.
With the door shut, the surroundings returned to calm.
Han Su stared at the door quietly.
After about two minutes, it opened again.
The man in sunglasses entered, followed by the sharp-suited woman.
He walked into the room, removed his sunglasses, nodded at Han Su, and quietly said, “Long time no see, Little Han.”
“Officer Zhang.”
Han Su nodded back.
He was genuinely surprised, though he concealed it well.
He hadn’t expected it to be this person—but in hindsight, he probably should have.
This Officer Zhang was someone he knew well.
After that kidnapping case, the lead investigator had been Detective Zhang—his name was Zhang Chiguo.
And after Han Su escaped from that dark bunker, it was Zhang who repeatedly questioned him on details, took his statements, even gave him a lie detector test, and arranged sessions with a psychologist.
Correspondingly, Zhang had shielded the young, emotionally volatile parents of the victims several times.
Also, when Han Su couldn’t continue at his orphanage and needed to transfer schools, Zhang had helped—there was even a period when Han Su lived with the veteran detective.
When Han Su was young, he had felt deep gratitude toward this officer who had cared for him.
But for many years, Zhang had disappeared.
Later, when Han Su continued cooperating with investigations at the Public Security Bureau, he enquired about him.
People just said he had left—transferred to another department.
Han Su had assumed he’d been marginalized and had resigned, especially since he hadn’t seemed to flourish in the Bureau of Guards.
He never expected to run into him now, under these circumstances.
“I’ve joined a new department—and I’m not handling the old cases anymore.
Yet I didn’t expect to meet you again.”
Since they were acquaintances, once Officer Zhang sat down, his demeanor relaxed somewhat.
He looked at the young man before him—now a full-grown teenager nearly a head taller—exhaled softly.
His gaze swept across the milk tea that had been tossed into the trash, and his expression held a sense of wistfulness.
Joining his new department had actually been connected to that kidnapping case back then.
And after all these years, he truly believed that this young man had been nothing more than a victim.
That case had come with immense pressure.
After all, most of the children involved were from wealthy or prominent families, and a few even had rather intimidating backgrounds.
And being forced to take over this case, he had no idea how much he had endured—but wearing this uniform, he had to shoulder that responsibility.
Yet this young man was also a victim!
He had lost an eye, and bore a terrifying scar on his face.
His life had already been mostly ruined.
But those people still wouldn't even allow him a moment of peace?
Han Su stared at Officer Zhang for a long time before slowly speaking: “So now, Officer Zhang, do you believe me?”
Back then, although Officer Zhang took care of him, he never believed in the so-called monsters or the dark ancient castle where over twenty children were kidnapped.
He simply thought Han Su had been frightened.
But now, seeing him involved in the case with the Phantom Truck on Highway 59, coupled with his change in role, Han Su couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope.
“I’ve always believed you.”
Officer Zhang responded casually, then picked up the statement on the table.
There were large sections crossed out—the officers earlier clearly hadn’t believed Han Su.
They only wanted him to admit he had been mistaken, or perhaps high.
They likely intended to use the statement as a reason to keep Han Su at the Bureau.
Officer Zhang glanced at it, folded the statement, tucked it into his pocket, and said to Han Su, “I’ve already gone over the situation, Little Han. I just have one question.”
He fixed his eyes on Han Su and asked quietly, “How did you manage to drive away that... Phantom Truck?”
Han Su looked calmly at him.
He instinctively felt that this long-lost officer had changed.
Back then, the eyes he remembered were filled with confusion and resentment when faced with such cases.
He hadn’t known why so many children had vanished or what this so-called dark ancient castle meant.
But now, those eyes seemed to conceal many secrets.
Secrets he wouldn't speak aloud—but were perfectly clear in his heart.
After a slight pause and long silence, Han Su slowly opened his mouth: “Song Chu‑shi.”
“I don’t know if you remember him—he was one of the victims’ families who was kidnapped along with me.”
“He came to me a few days ago, asked about some details of the kidnapping, and gave me this spell.”
“He said it came from fishermen in Cape Harbor who worshiped ghost gods.”
“He said if I recited the spell, it would awaken some mysterious power that could drive away evil.”
“Since I’ve been having nightmares every night and just wanted to sleep peacefully, I memorized it.”
“……”
“Song Chu‑shi?”
Officer Zhang’s pupils contracted slightly when he heard the name.
He was no longer that obstinate yet ordinary officer from years ago.
His facial expression was well-controlled.
But Han Su, with his keen sense of observation, noticed it nonetheless.
“That spell—where is it?”
Zhang Chiguo fixed his gaze on Han Su, then suddenly waved a hand: “Don’t recite it out loud. Write it down. Or… do you have a recording?”
Han Su paused for a moment, then pulled a voice recorder from his pocket, glanced at it, and said, “I was just recording what those two officers said. I don’t know if the spell got erased.”
“Hmm?”
Zhang Chiguo frowned slightly but still took it.
The capable woman in the black suit beside him promptly handed over a briefcase, which surprisingly contained professional playback equipment.
She put on headphones, listened for a while, and reported to Zhang Chiguo: “It’s a Fisherman’s Chant from Cape Harbor.”
Only then did Zhang Chiguo breathe a sigh of relief.
He signaled her to continue analyzing it and prepare a report.
Having completed these steps, he turned back to Han Su and slowly asked, “How did you know the spell would work?”
“An ordinary person would only panic and flee when encountering such a thing, right?”
“……”
Facing the question, Han Su fell silent for a moment, then slowly smiled: “Officer Zhang, I was kidnapped ten years ago by the things you all didn’t believe in.”
“Ordinary people don’t believe me. They don’t believe such things exist—but I do.”
“From the moment I accepted this spell, it was because I’ve always longed for some mysterious power.”
“I just hoped that if I were ever kidnapped again, I’d at least have something to fight back with…”
“……”
He spoke with such sincerity that even the old detective couldn’t detect a single flaw.
A complex look flickered in Zhang Chiguo’s eyes, but he instinctively hid it.
He asked professionally, “Then, when you recited the spell, did you feel that…”
“As if your spirit had awakened and was seeping into reality?”
Han Su sensed something sharply.
When Zhang Chiguo asked that, his expression was far too guarded.
So Han Su held back some of his words and only asked slowly, “Spirit awakening… what do you mean?”
“It’s nothing…”
Zhang Chiguo waved his hand dismissively, lowered his head to look at the statement, and asked, “Why were you there in the first place?”
Han Su replied, “I ran into some trouble related to the kidnapping case. A friend took me to find someone for help—and that’s how it happened.”
“It’s all in the statement. Is there a problem?”
Looking at Han Su’s face, Zhang Chiguo saw only honesty and composure.
His taut nerves slowly eased, replaced by a quiet fatigue and sentiment.
“Little Han, you really are an unlucky child…”
He even looked a little helpless, shaking his head: “Why do things like this always find you?”