I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

His words snap me back to reality. I blink, remembering 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 movement deliberate. "I am. Or was, rather. Time 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 department 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 lifetime of service. "Thank you," he says, his voice neutral. He doesn't open it, just holds it and continues to stare at me, 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 me 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 me, evaluating me, waiting for this moment?

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 stammer, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I should go." I turn to leave, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The creak of the old gate seems unnaturally loud as I push it open.

As I walk away, my footsteps echoing on the cracked pavement, Aileen's voice chimes in my head. "Who was that? He seemed... interesting. There's more to him than meets the eye, isn't there?"

"It's nothing," I mutter under my breath, glancing around to ensure no one sees me 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 home through the familiar streets, now seeming somehow 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 me has long since gone cold, forgotten in my intense focus on the documents before me.

I may not have access to the oldest cases - including the one that haunts me 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 movement 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 overwhelmed. "Yes, sir. I didn't know what to do with her, so I brought her to one of the meeting rooms. I've been looking for someone to help..."

I nod, understanding his predicament. "Alright, I'll handle it. You can go back to your post. Which meeting room is she in?"

"Meeting room B, sir," he replies, visibly relieved.

As the auxiliary officer heads back to his post, I take a moment 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 meeting room B, the hinges creaking slightly in the silent building. As I step inside, my eyes immediately 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 me 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 something?"

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 name 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 me more about what happened, Ms. Kim?"

Min-seo takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that catches me off guard. Then, in a voice that's surprisingly steady given the circumstances, she makes a statement 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 statement. 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 someone. 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 Melody'. He's really talented, you know? His voice... it's like honey and smoke all at once.

He dreams of becoming a famous singer someday."

I nod, encouraging her to continue.

"I visit him sometimes, 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 seemed to shine a little brighter when he knew I was there." Her eyes grow distant, lost in happier memories. "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 me home. 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 memory. "Jae-hoon wanted to take me 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 men got off the truck. They approached our car. I was scared, but Jae-hoon told me everything would be okay."

As she speaks, I jot down notes, my mind already piecing together potential scenarios. "How many men 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 time," I say softly, offering her a tissue.

"What happened after the men approached your car?"