Dead Men Don't Get Justice

The Old Apartment

The old man's face twisted with rage when he heard what Yuna said.

"How could you say something so outrageous? "You're going to feed someone's ashes to the dogs? You monster!"

Yuna crossed her arms with a scoff "Old coot, cut the act already. Just how much is Finn paying you? You're quite the convincing act."

"Why you!"

"Whatever," she interrupted him with a wave before turning to walk down the stairwell. "Finn, I know you can hear me. Are you trying to scare me off with this act? Do you think I'd fall for something like this?"

She kept talking in tandem with the sound of her heels echoing throughout the stairwell, saying, "I knew who you were the moment you took the fall for Joe back then. You wish to make me feel guilty with this performance? Hah! Dream on!"

I drifted after her.

Conflicted emotions swirled in me as I watched her march toward her car.

She sat in there for a long time with her fingers tightly gripped around the steering wheel.

Suddenly, she slammed her hand against the horn, causing an ear-piercing shriek as the honk echoed across the old neighborhood.

"Fine. You're all going to keep up the act, are you?"

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

"Look up where Finn's parents went. Yes, I want all records, including medical, transport, financial transactions, and everything else. Don't leave even a single stone unturned."

After that, she made another call. "Joe, what did the federal officers say?"

Joe was audibly frustrated. "Don't ask. I don't know who dug up the information from back then. Yuna, the truth will be exposed if Finn doesn't show up to take the blame!"

"He'll do it," Yuna confidently declared. "He always did what I told him to back then. There's no way he'd disobey me this time."

"Didn't his neighbor say he's dead?"

"That's fake news." Yuna clicked her tongue. "I know him like the back of my hand. He may be incompetent, but he's an absolute coward. He'd never have the guts to actually die. He's likely just panicking while hiding away from me."

After a moment of silence, Joe said, "Fine, but be quick about it. The election will start next month."

"Understood."

She hung up and started the car.

I thought she'd be driving back to her office, but I realized she was heading into a rather old neighborhood after a few turns.

I knew that place well.

It was where the two of us stayed when we got married.

She wasn't a CEO, and I was still a carefree young man.

We rented a rundown apartment about 400 square feet with a leaky toilet and a greasy kitchen. When winter came, it would be as cold as an igloo.

Even so, we had spent those days like the married couple we actually were.

She pulled to a stop beneath the building and looked up at the window on the fifth floor.

She eventually walked up the stairs after standing there and staring at the dilapidated building for a long, long time.

The lock had been changed long ago. It was clear that she hadn't expected this, as she paused before reaching up to feel the top of the door frame.

The key was still there.

That was one of my habits.

She always forgot to bring her keys, so I would hide a spare on the door frame.

As she pushed past the heavy door, she found herself in an apartment covered in dust and rotting furniture.

The decorations we bought for the wedding were still hung up on the walls. The paper had turned white from the dust, while a corner flapped in the draft.

She stood there in the doorway, unmoving.

I floated up to her and noticed she was staring at the dining table, which was being held up by bricks due to a missing leg.

Surely, she still remembered our time here.

We were flat broke back then. Even so, I scrimped and saved in order to buy a lipstick for her on Valentine's Day.

She could not bear to use it, so she would hide it under her pillow. Every night, she had the habit of taking a peek at it before we fell asleep.

Later on, she gave that lipstick away to a client.

When I found out, she told me not to be so petty and look at the bigger picture. In her eyes, it was just a lipstick, and I was overreacting.

I did not say a single word.

She walked to the bedroom.

The bed was the same old bed we slept on. The folded-up quilt was my doing.

No one had bothered tidying up after I was gone.

There was a photo on the side table. It was taken when we got married.

She had a bright smile on her lips while I stood there stiffly. I could still remember how nervous I had been, and it really showed.

She picked up the photo and brushed one finger across the faces displayed on it.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to speak, but no words were uttered.

However, I could see her eyes turning red.

Still, everything flashed by so quickly that her reaction felt like a hallucination.

She soon thumped the photo back on the table, speaking in a low and dark voice. "Finn, don't forget how useless you were back then. When Joe moved back, you could not even afford to treat him to a meal."

Joe's return home...

Yes, everything had changed upon Joe's return.

She began to complain that my cooking tasted awful. She disliked how little I earned. She hated how I was never able to act and speak with eloquence.

She forgot about the days before Joe's return.

She forgot how I was the one who carried her on my back and ran three bus stops just to get her to the hospital when she burned up with a fever.

She forgot that I was the one who braved the bitter winter to bring her supper when she had to stay up late to work overtime.

She had conveniently forgotten all I had done for her.

Personally, I was of the mind that she figured all of those memories were worthless after Joe's return.

I could still remember the first time Joe dined with us in our home.

He was dressed in a fine suit and had brought two bottles of expensive wine. The moment he walked in, he scowled and asked Yuna how she could live in such squalor.

She had flushed bright red in mortification at the time.

She changed after that night.

Yuna sat by the bed for a very long time. I thought she had fallen asleep from how long she had sat there.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

It was a call from her assistant.

"Ms. Lane, I've gotten the information you asked for."

"Talk."

There was clear hesitation in her assistant's voice as they rattled off the results of her investigation. "I've looked into Finn Chance's parents. According to the hospital, his father passed away from a heart attack five years ago. He passed away at 10.23 p.m.

"His mother passed away three days later due to a brain hemorrhage. She passed away at 4.15 a.m. The two individuals' death certificates were filed and recorded by the office on North Street."

There was a pause before they continued, "Also, according to the funeral parlor, no one has collected their ashes or even paid the storage fees for five whole years."

Yuna shot to her feet as if she had been struck by lightning. The hand holding the phone up trembled. "That's impossible! You've got it wrong. Keep investigating!"

"Ms. Lane, I've checked it three times..."

"I'm telling you it's impossible!" she practically roared. "They were healthy back then. How could they have died in a flash?

"Joe even told me they were doing fine last month! I was shown their chat records!"

Her assistant fell silent.

After a long moment, she tentatively brought up, "Ms. Lane, are you sure it's last month? Because that's impossible. I've looked into their numbers and all associated social media accounts. They had all been deleted five years ago."