July 2012, Damyang College of Fine Arts,
A heavy downpour drenched the surroundings. Puddles formed along the path leading to the college, and students rushed to their morning lectures, some clutching umbrellas while others sprinted, uncaring of the rain. Thunder rumbled ominously in the darkened sky, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present.
Amidst this chaotic scene, Lee Hangyul moved slowly through the deluge, seemingly unfazed by the bustling crowd. Rainwater cascaded down his face as he continued his journey. Suddenly, a kind gesture interrupted his solitary walk—a vibrant orange umbrella shielded him from the relentless rain.
"Hey! Can't you walk faster if you don't have an umbrella?" A voice emerged from behind him, accompanied by a boy who held the umbrella.
Hangyul regarded the boy for a moment, his gaze unwavering, before resuming his stride.
"Hey, you rude punk! Why are you ignoring me?" The boy persisted, trailing Hangyul with the umbrella in tow.
Yet, in an instant, the boy's progress was halted, as a hand firmly gripped the collar of his shirt. Frustrated, he spun around, ready to confront his assailant. "Who the heck?"
"Couldn't you hear my call, Haneul?" Seong-ah interjected, bending down and panting heavily, her own clothes soaked by the relentless rain.
"Oh... were you calling me? My cell phone is on silent," Haneul responded, lowering his umbrella over Seong-ah's head.
"No point in this now; I'm already drenched. You're always like this, never coming to my aid in times of crisis."
"What? Who helped you pass last semester?"
"Shut up! By the way... who were you chasing a moment ago?"
"Some stranger," Haneul chuckled, patting Seong-ah's head.
"Stop it! Just because you're taller than me now doesn't mean you can do that," she retorted, pushing him away from his umbrella.
"What an ungrateful woman!" Haneul exclaimed as they made their way inside the college building, bickering incessantly.
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1 AM, Hannam-dong, Seoul
Kim Haneul stepped into his home, clutching a handful of documents. He carefully arranged them on his study table before sinking into the couch across from it. His gaze drifted out of the window, noting the lateness of the hour—it was too late for any hope of a food delivery. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself up and made his way to the kitchen, in search of the comfort of instant ramyeon noodles.
A packet of ramyeon emerged from the pantry, and he filled a kettle with water, setting it atop the stove to boil. As the water came to a rolling boil, a memory resurfaced from years past—a time when Seong-ah had scalded herself with boiling water while preparing cup noodles, sending Haneul into a frenzy of worry that persisted throughout her hospital treatment. Those had been the days of their unbreakable friendship; she was his best friend, but for Haneul, she had been something more—a youthful crush. A wistful smile graced his lips at the reminiscence, and he poured the steaming water into the noodle cup.
With the cup in hand, he headed to his study, the documents beckoning from the desk. Haneul settled into the chair, placing the cup beside him, and delved into the reports.
"Fingerprint reports... Was it truly necessary to go to such lengths? How did she even acquire those fingerprints on her neck? That person must have strangled her..."
He turned the pages of the report, pondering. "Hmm... the prints match those found on the knife, though it was not the murder weapon. Despite being covered in blood, the blood doesn't correspond to the victim's. So, this individual must have assaulted someone else... who either escaped or met a different fate, their remains concealed elsewhere... this case..."
Haneul's cell phone shattered the silence, interrupting his investigative reverie. It was a call from the detective department.
"Hmm. Send me the location."
He placed the reports back on the desk, rose to his feet, and donned a black denim jacket over his white sleeveless undershirt. In his bedroom, he opened a drawer in his dressing table, retrieving a revolver. He loaded it with bullets, secured it, and slipped it into the pocket of his black trousers. Haneul exited his home with purpose, swiftly entering his car.
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3 AM, Itaewon Bar
"Where?"
"Inside the men's washroom."
Haneul entered the washroom, finding a cluster of police officers surrounding the lifeless body. At the sight of Haneul's arrival, they swiftly made way for him. Without hesitation, he moved toward the victim, and his assistant detective, Minjae, handed him a pair of gloves. Haneul donned them and began examining the corpse.
"The same," he grumbled.
"Yes, sir. The same method used as with the Damyang murder victim—heart removed from the body."
"Did he leave his damn signature screwdriver again?"
"Yes, sir. Here it is. It was hanging over the victim's heart, tethered to the ceiling hooks."
Minjae displayed a photograph and presented the screwdriver, both carefully preserved in a polythene bag. Haneul accepted the bag, frustration etched on his face. "He wants to taunt me?"
"He's a complete psychopath. Why would any murderer leave evidence at the crime scene?"
"Who was this man? Any suspicious connections?" Haneul inquired, pointing at the victim.
"Sir, he's the nephew of the current mayor. There's insider information suggesting he came here for drug-related activities."
"What about the owner of this bar?"
"This establishment receives covert support from the mayor's wife. So, managing illegal drug activities is well within their damn purview."
"Fucking assholes." Haneul tossed the screwdriver bag to Minjae and exited the washroom.
"Sir, here's the information you requested about the person with matching fingerprints," Minjae sent him a message via KakaoTalk.
"Lee Hangyul," Haneul muttered in disbelief as he read the address. He remained momentarily speechless.
"Sir, are you planning to call him in for questioning?"
"Not yet," Haneul replied, deactivating his chat. "Call the forensics team and have the body transported to the laboratory. Inform them that I need the postmortem reports by tomorrow afternoon."
Haneul left the bar and settled into his car. "Lee Hangyul? You reappear in my life after a decade, and in this situation?" He vented his frustration by punching the steering wheel. With resolve, he revved the engine and sped toward Hangyul's location.
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Seong-ah covertly slipped through the gate of Hangyul's apartment, her steps as silent as her intentions.
"Is he inside?" She ascended the stairs and tapped lightly on the door, receiving no immediate response.
"Is he not here?" Just as she turned to leave, the door swung open behind her.
"What do you want now?" Hangyul's voice emerged from within.
"Just wanted to chit-chat," Seong-ah replied nonchalantly and slipped into his home.
"Those marks on your neck are quite visible," Hangyul observed, his gaze cold.
"Wanna darken them tonight?" Seong-ah whispered seductively into his ear.
"Shut up." Hangyul pushed her away.
He was dressed in lavender satin night pajamas, his eyes weary from sleep, and disheveled hair falling over his forehead, making him seem less intimidating than usual. Seong-ah gazed at him, feeling an inexplicable sentiment stir in her heart. She couldn't deny the undeniable allure that drew her back to him, despite the risks.
"Planning to stay the night?" Hangyul questioned, his tone sharp.
"As if you'd let me survive until sunrise," Seong-ah retorted with sarcasm.
"Definitely not. You are the most irritating person I've ever encountered, and I'd love to break that neck of yours—the neck you hold so proudly. Actually, it bothers me a lot..." Hangyul drew nearer to Seong-ah, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to crush your pride. Want to sleep with me?"
"I always knew you were a psychopath, but today I've realized you're a jerk too," Seong-ah snapped back, pushing him away.
Hangyul smirked at her furious expression.
"Anyway, a murder was reported in Itaewon a few hours ago. I just wanted to check if you were at home."
"Why? To check if I'm the murderer? I thought you were a sharp-minded reporter, Yoon Seong-ah. I don't need to leave this house to kill someone. I can do it right here," Hangyul sat down, leaning back on the couch. "Like this. It's so easy for me."
"Stop pretending. I want you to know that the murderer is still at large, and I believe they'll come to meet you soon."
"So? You want to use me as bait for that murderer?"
"It's good that your time in the mental asylum knocked some sense into you."
Hangyul stood up. "And what if I'm the one helping the murderer? Do you think I'd agree to your lousy plan?"
"I'll keep pestering you until you do," Seong-ah asserted, shoving him back onto the couch. "So, want to sleep with me? I swear there's no pride left in this body.... just agony..."
She locked eyes with him, their faces inches apart. Seong-ah's loose crop top had ridden up slightly as she leaned over Hangyul, revealing her slender waist.
"You'll regret coming here tonight, Seong-ah," Hangyul whispered, lightly gripping her jawline with his long fingers.
"Whatever it takes to avenge my parents." Seong-ah yanked his hair back, causing Hangyul to lose control as he attacked her lips. Their fiery encounter escalated, Seong-ah biting his lips while he continued to passionately kiss her. Seong-ah's knees locked in his manspread, she pulled his hair and he pressed her waist tightly... It was a strange struggle, as they drew closer, crossing the boundaries of hate and attraction.
A sudden doorbell ringing shattered their intense moment, their lips parting, both left in a daze.
"Lee Hangyul! Are you in there!" a voice echoed from outside. It was Kim Haneul.
"Kim Haneul?" Seong-ah was startled, her eyes widening. She rushed towards the balcony and jumped down from the first floor.
"She didn't even hesitate," Hangyul muttered to himself, still processing the intensity of their encounter. The doorbell continued to ring persistently. He walked and opened the door.
"What? Can't I get some sleep tonight? Why does everyone want to meet me at this hour? It's fucking 4 AM for crying out loud!" Hangyul vented his frustration.
The person on the other side stared at him in shock.
"Do we know each other?" Hangyul asked, growing increasingly confused. However, he soon realized that the man in front of him matched the photos he had saved on his cellphone.
"Did we know each other ten years ago?" Hangyul inquired slowly.
"You... don't remember? It's me... Haneul..."
"Haneul?"
The lights above them flickered, plunging them into darkness and shadows, their faces momentarily obscured. A storm of questions surged through their minds, yet an awkward silence hung heavy between them.
"Do you remember... killing your own father?" The tube light above them shattered, enveloping the passage in pitch-black darkness, just as they faced each other.