"Evelyn Cho was also contracted by Havens Entertainment. Yara and Evelyn were, let's say, competitors, and she…I mean Evelyn had a knack for pissing people off," I said as Ethan and I got out of the car.
We were in front of the lobby gate of the hotel where we'll be staying: Celestial Palace. With an artificial fountain of a two-headed lion in the center of the entrance, it was a luxurious themed hotel with curated art collections.
"And?" Ethan pressed further. Some employees of the hotel, wearing black formal clothes, took our luggage from the car and guided us to our suite.
"Circumstantial. Let's recap this. 'Someone' had a feud with Evelyn. They killed her out of grudge or whatever the reason, in her own penthouse which is approximately a 5-minute distance from where the party took place…" I paused as we entered the lift. With a chime, the gate of the lift closed, bringing an airy silence.
"Now, killing her was easy. As I read the forensic report, there was a high concentration of Fluoroquin-B in her nerves. It's a nerve agent that slows down reflexes and the processing speed of the brain over time. It disappears after 48 hours, leaving no trace. But the reason for her death was blunt force trauma to the left side of the head, temporal region, resulting in a skull fracture. And she was hit multiple times on the same spot, making sure she was dead."
As I continued, we reached the 53rd floor of the hotel. The hotel had sixty floors in all and massive three-thousand-square-foot suites.
"Now, Yara left the party one hour before the time of the murder. She says she went back home, and the cam at her door and the key card access confirm that. But the issue here was that one of Yara's cars, a red Mini Cooper, had been spotted in the general parking area near Evelyn's penthouse. As the gates of the car opened up, the footage from every possible camera shut down," I added Yara's side as the employees opened the doors and placed our luggage in the living room.
"Do you need any assistance in unpacking your luggage, sir?" one of the employees asked as all of them formed a line across our luggage.
"No, that would be all. Thank you," Ethan responded.
"A pleasure, sirs. Just dial 11 via any of the landlines, and the staff will connect with you for anything," With that, Ethan nodded, and the employees left the room, closing the door behind them.
"The timing of the car's arrival matched perfectly. The distance from the party venue to Yara's house was 20 minutes, and the distance from Yara's house to Evelyn's is around forty minutes. With clear traffic, it can be thirty. Evelyn was murdered one hour after Yara left the venue," I said as I took off my jacket and consumed the painkillers that Ethan handed me in an orange bottle with a white cap.
"So you mean to say that Yara killed Evelyn?" Ethan asked as he dragged his bags and case into his room.
"No, I'm saying that all the evidence that the prosecution has is circumstantial," I replied.
"Then the question arises, why are they so confident that this case will proceed in the prelims?" Ethan asked loudly from inside his room.
"Exactly. Yara definitely did not reveal everything, and the prosecution has something which they aim to present in court during the hearing with a really well-fabricated and valid reason," But this was just a hunch. A strong hunch, but a hunch either way.
"Let's not fret over it. This isn't our case, we're just advisors. We can't fight head on, just give suggestions," Ethan suggested.
"Then why don't you act on my behalf?" I asked him.
The moment I asked this question, I heard some books fall on the floor, and Ethan came running out of his room and sat on the couch opposite me.
"Say that again?" Ethan asked, wide-eyed with a raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips as he processed the unexpected situation.
"I'm saying, if all we need to do is just sit around and see things proceed, why don't you help that attorney and act on my behalf?" I asked again.
"Fuckin—Sure deal, man. Y-you know you need to rest and probably need to explore—or maybe whatever. I'll handle this on your behalf," he responded in excitement. Acting as an advisor on a high-profile case is an offer no clerk would refuse.
"You probably will need a car too, so I'll arrange it for you. Just tell me if you need anything," he added.
"Fucking asshol-"
"I'm going to pile up files, thank you boss", And he stormed back into his room.
----
It seems that driving still leaves stress on my wounds. I had changed into something presentable, figuring I would at least wear something decent if I'm gonna roam around.
That time at the hotel when I handed Ethan my responsibilities, I took his car keys from him and told him to be with the driver. His car is a black sports sedan, with files and books of law lying on the back seat and an all-white interior.
I looked down and lifted the seatbelt gently as I parked the car in the parking lane by the road. From morning till now, I had driven endlessly with no goal in mind. The problem with me is that I have IBS. I can't really consume meat or veggies that are raw, undercooked, or not cooked enough till they are tender.
Now I can't just go around places, ordering food. Because if that food does not meet the criteria, I can't just blame the restaurant.
My options are often limited to either hotels where I can make demands or food stalls like McDonald's or other common brands.
And so I found this place. Across the road was a cafe named 'The Twins Café'. With all the busy cafe brands surrounding the skyscrapers, offering a much better environment, this place seemed to have lost its spotlight.
I took out the bottle of painkillers and took my fill, placing them back in the dashboard. Getting out of the car and crossing the street, I entered the cafe through a wooden door with a hand-painted sign that read The Twins Café in both Korean and English.
The bell hanging above the door chimed as the scent of incense hit me.
Inside, soft lighting glowed from vintage-style hanging lamps, casting a warm ambiance across the room. A mix of wooden tables with mismatched chairs that seated two to four people.
A cushioned reading nook in the corner was lined with books in Korean and English, making it an ideal spot for quiet readers.
Walls were adorned with framed photographs of nature and sketches of the café's logo. Potted plants hung from the ceiling beams and sat on every windowsill.
The counter offered an open view of their baking and coffee preparation area, with jars of cookies and pastries on display. Above the counter was a rustic chalkboard menu.
But there was no one here. Not to mention the customers; there was no one to even receive customers. Just then, I heard someone descending the stairs from the door that led behind the kitchen.
It seemed to connect the second and only floor above the coffee shop, of course, accessible only to the ones who run this café.
After about ten seconds, a girl with shoulder-length black hair, fair skin, wearing a light brown knit cardigan, pleated black skirt, and floaty loafers stepped out from the door behind the kitchen. She wore rimless sight spectacles and diamond stud earrings. Overall, elegant and beautiful.
"Annyeonghaseyo!" she said as she bowed slightly to greet me, then reached for the apron in the drawer of the kitchen.
"Ann… Hi!" I tried speaking the same word but couldn't. That probably translates to hello. Then again, looking at the menu, I was struck speechless because that was in Korean too.
"Ah- Hi! I'm sorry, I thought you knew Korean," Listening to my response, she turned around and bowed again.
"That's totally fine, my features make it hard to differentiate where I'm originally from. My mom was Korean, but I never grazed the language," I replied.
"That's sweet. I can just read out the menu for you," she suggested while fixing her apron.
"I'd rather prefer having what you feel is the best coffee; no need to read it out for me," I rejected that suggestion.
"That's a tough decision," she said, tying her hair in a ponytail, and again I heard someone descending the stairs from the back of the kitchen.
However, this time I was left speechless. Not because of the language barrier, but because of what I was looking at. The girl that stepped out of the door was exactly identical to the one who was just talking to me. She was wearing the same clothes, except for the absence of specs.
The only difference between both of them was that one had specs and the other didn't.
"I-" I couldn't say anything.
"Oh-. She's my twin sister, Hana, and I'm Minji," the one with the specs spoke up. Now, how would a person even differentiate if they exchanged specs?
"Hello and welcome to 'The Twins Café'," Hana said in a more cheery tone. She seems like the extroverted one.
"I never thought it literally meant 'The Twins Café.' This is the first time in my life I'm seeing two people exactly identical," I commented.
"We get that a lot. Is this your first time in Korea?" Hana asked as Minji started brewing coffee.
"The first, yes. Already loving it now," I said and added, "Can I also have a sandwich?"
"Sure thing… there are plenty of options-" Hana replied.
"Just the one that's best here. And if possible, make it soft," I said.
"Soft? Like?" Hana asked.
"Tender, nothing raw," I replied.
"Got it."
"So… what brings you all the way to Korea? You don't seem like you're here on a trip," Hana asked.
"Work… of course. I'm just a lawyer," I replied, taking a seat near a window and facing the kitchen.
"A lawyer, huh? So you fight cases and resolve issues in general?" Hana asked again as she prepared the sandwich.
"I've fought a number of cases, but they're not really about resolving issues between two people. What about you two?" I answered and asked to keep the conversation double-sided.
"Oh, us, as you can see, we're self-employed, but Minji here is a writer, and I'm a manga artist," Hana replied.
"That's a unique choice. You both work on the same genres?" I added.
"It's more like making passion a profession. And yes, she makes the story, and I visualize it. Sometimes it's action and mystery, which I, for one, am very fond of. Other times, it's a genre you don't really speak about in public," Hana replied.
"What about you then? If you don't resolve issues, what do you do?" Hana asked as the coffee was almost done, and the rich scent was definitely giving me a craving for it.
"I'm a criminal lawyer," I said as Hana turned around, looked at me, and said, "Now that's some cool profession."