I stand there, speechless, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts and questions. The familiar face of the old man - now revealed to be Chief Superintendent Kang - looks back at , his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes uncomfortable. The gentle breeze rustles the overgrown garden, filling the silence between us.
After what feels like an eternity, Kang speaks, his voice gravelly yet soft. "Why are you here, young man?"
His words snap back to reality. I blink, rembering my purpose. "I... Are you Chief Superintendent Kang?" I ask, though I already know the answer. My voice sounds strange to my own ears, a mix of nervousness and awe.
He nods slowly, the movent deliberate. "I am. Or was, rather. Ti has a way of changing titles, doesn't it?"
Fumbling slightly, I reach into my pocket and produce the invitation. The crisp white envelope feels out of place in this weathered setting. "I'm here to deliver this, sir. It's an invitation to the annual retirees' party. The departnt would be honored if you could attend."
Kang takes the envelope, his weathered hands brushing against mine. I notice the calluses, the slight tremor - hands that have seen a lifeti of service. "Thank you," he says, his voice neutral. He doesn't open it, just holds it and continues to stare at , as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
As the silence stretches on, broken only by the distant sounds of the neighborhood, my mind wanders. A sudden thought hits like a bolt of lightning - what if Kang was one of the officers who investigated my parents' case? Is that why he's been a regular at my grandmother's restaurant all these years? Has he been watching , evaluating , waiting for this mont?
The weight of this possibility settles on my shoulders. I'm on the verge of asking, the question burning on my tongue, when Kang speaks again. "I'm not who you think I am," he says softly, as if reading my thoughts.
Caught off guard, I stamr, "I'm sorry, I didn't an to... I should go." I turn to leave, my cheeks burning with embarrassnt. The creak of the old gate seems unnaturally loud as I push it open.
As I walk away, my footsteps echoing on the cracked pavent, Aileen's voice chis in my head. "Who was that? He seed... interesting. There's more to him than ets the eye, isn't there?"
"It's nothing," I mutter under my breath, glancing around to ensure no one sees talking to myself. "I don't want to talk about it." I quicken my pace, as if I could outrun my own thoughts.
But as I make my way ho through the familiar streets, now seeming sohow different, my mind is a whirlwind of questions and speculations. Who is Kang really?
***
The fluorescent lights hum softly in the otherwise silent office. It's well past midnight, but I'm still here, hunched over my desk, surrounded by stacks of case files. The coffee beside has long since gone cold, forgotten in my intense focus on the docunts before .
I may not have access to the oldest cases - including the one that haunts most, my parents' - but I'm determined to learn everything I can from what's available. Each file is a piece of the puzzle, a lesson in investigative techniques and criminal psychology.
As I'm engrossed in a particularly complex fraud case, a movent in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I look up, peering through the glass partition that separates our unit from the corridor. An auxiliary police officer is standing there, peering inside with a mix of uncertainty and relief on his face.
Curious, I stand up, my chair squeaking in the silence. I open the door, the sudden sound seeming unnaturally loud in the quiet building. "Can I help you?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
The young officer, barely out of his teens by the look of him, shifts nervously. "Sir, we've got a visitor downstairs. A young woman, probably in her twenties. She... she says she wants to report a murder."
My eyebrows raise involuntarily. "A murder? At this hour?"
He nods, looking slightly overwheld. "Yes, sir. I didn't know what to do with her, so I brought her to one of the eting rooms. I've been looking for soone to help..."
I nod, understanding his predicant. "Alright, I'll handle it. You can go back to your post. Which eting room is she in?"
"eting room B, sir," he replies, visibly relieved.
As the auxiliary officer heads back to his post, I take a mont to gather my thoughts. A murder report in the middle of the night is unusual, to say the least. I straighten my tie and smooth down my shirt, trying to look as professional as possible despite the late hour.
I push open the door to eting room B, the hinges creaking slightly in the silent building. As I step inside, my eyes imdiately fall on the young woman seated at the table.
She's just as the auxiliary officer described - young, probably in her early twenties. But what strikes most is the exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Her clothes are rumpled, hair disheveled, and there's a faint odor suggesting she hasn't had access to proper hygiene facilities for a while. Her eyes, though tired, are alert and follow my every move as I enter the room.
"Good evening," I say softly, trying not to startle her. "I'm Detective Park. I understand you're here to report sothing?"
I take a seat across from her, maintaining a respectful distance. Up close, I can see the dark circles under her eyes and the slight tremor in her hands as they rest on the table.
She nods, swallowing hard before speaking. "My na is Kim Min-seo," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need to report a murder."
I nod encouragingly, keeping my expression neutral. "I see. Can you tell more about what happened, Ms. Kim?"
Min-seo takes a deep breath, her eyes eting mine with an intensity that catches off guard. Then, in a voice that's surprisingly steady given the circumstances, she makes a statent that sends a chill down my spine.
"I killed my boyfriend."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and shocking. I force myself to maintain my composure, years of training kicking in despite my surprise.
"I see," I say carefully, my mind racing with questions and procedural steps. "Ms. Kim, that's a very serious statent. Before we go any further, I need to inform you of your rights. You have the right to remain silent and the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used as evidence.
Do you understand?"
Min-seo nods, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "I understand. But I need to tell soone. I need to explain why I did it."
Min-seo takes a shaky breath, her hands clasped tightly on the table. Her knuckles turn white with the pressure. "My boyfriend, Jae-hoon," she begins, her voice softer now, "he works as a singer and waiter at a nightclub called 'Midnight lody'. He's really talented, you know? His voice... it's like honey and smoke all at once.
He dreams of becoming a famous singer soday."
I nod, encouraging her to continue.
"I visit him sotis, to support him. I believe in his dream," she says, a faint smile flickering across her face before fading like a candle snuffed out. "I'd go to the club, sit in the corner, and just watch him perform. He always seed to shine a little brighter when he knew I was there." Her eyes grow distant, lost in happier mories. "That night, it was really late when his shift ended.
Later than usual. His boss, Mr. Park, he let Jae-hoon borrow the car to drive ho. It was a kind gesture, considering how dangerous the streets can be at that hour."
"And then?" I prompt gently.
Min-seo's eyes cloud over, lost in the mory. "Jae-hoon wanted to take for a drive in the suburbs. It was a beautiful night, and we were both in high spirits. But then..." She pauses, her voice catching.
"What happened next, Ms. Kim?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.
"A truck appeared out of nowhere," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was so sudden. It blocked the entire road. We had to stop."
I furrow my brow, sensing the tension building in her story. "And then?"
Min-seo's hands begin to tremble more visibly. "A group of n got off the truck. They approached our car. I was scared, but Jae-hoon told everything would be okay."
As she speaks, I jot down notes, my mind already piecing together potential scenarios. "How many n were there? Did you recognize any of them?"
Min-seo shakes her head. "I'm not sure. Maybe five or six? It was dark, and everything happened so fast. But then..." She trails off, her eyes filling with tears.
"It's okay, Ms. Kim. Take your ti," I say softly, offering her a tissue.
"What happened after the n approached your car?"
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