The rhythmic, jarring trill of the doorbell didn't just break the silence—it shattered it. Ring. Ring. Ring. Jongsuk froze, his hand hovering over the kitchen counter. There was a frantic, heavy energy to the sound, a persistence that signaled something far more ominous than a late-night delivery. He moved toward the door, his heart hammering a jagged rhythm against his ribs. Beside him, Jae Ahn stood up, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
When Jongsuk pulled the door open, the warm light of the hallway was swallowed by the cold, sterile blue of police uniforms.
"Jongsuk?" the lead officer asked, though it wasn't really a question. "You're under arrest for the murders currently connected to the hometown investigation."
The world seemed to tilt. Jae Ahn lurched forward, her chair screeching harshly against the floor as she stood, her face pale with shock. "What? That's impossible!"
But the officers weren't there to debate. With a metallic clack, the handcuffs snapped shut around Jongsuk's wrists. The cold steel biting into his skin was the first thing that made the nightmare feel real. As they began to haul him toward the door, Jae Ahn's instinct took over. She lunged forward, grabbing Jongsuk's hand from behind, her fingers locking onto his in a desperate anchor.
"You don't have any right!" she hissed, her voice trembling with a volatile mix of fear and fury. "Do you have evidence? Anything at all to justify this?"
The officer turned, his expression like flint. "We don't just have evidence, Miss. We have strong evidence. He isn't just a suspect anymore; he's the prime killer. If you want to help him, come to the station. But if you obstruct us further, it won't end well for you."
Jae Ahn's hand slipped away. She stood in the doorway, breathless, watching the flashing red and blue lights swallow Jongsuk as they pushed him into the back of the cruiser.
Inside the car, the silence was suffocating. Jongsuk felt a dark, aggressive heat rising in his chest. He wasn't a man prone to outbursts, but the sheer absurdity of the accusation felt like a physical weight.
"Don't you dare think this ends here," Jongsuk spat, his voice low and vibrating with a dangerous edge. He leaned forward as much as the restraints allowed, staring at the back of the officers' heads. "Neither of you will be able to hold a badge by the time I'm done with this."
They arrived at the precinct amidst a flurry of activity. Jongsuk was marched straight into a dim, windowless interrogation room. Across the metal table sat a senior detective, a man whose eyes were sunken with the exhaustion of chasing a ghost.
"Why did you do it, Jongsuk?" the detective asked, tossing a folder onto the table. "Why young girls? Are you really that far gone? A psychopath hiding in plain sight?"
The word psychopath snapped Jongsuk's tether. He slammed his bound hands onto the table with a deafening thud, the chair flying backward as he surged to his feet.
"I... am... not... a... killer!" he roared, each word punctuated by a ragged breath.
Just then, the heavy iron door creaked open. The sharp, rhythmic click-clack of heels echoed against the concrete walls. Jae Ahn stepped into the room, her silhouette sharp under the flickering fluorescent lights. She didn't look like the panicked neighbor from the apartment; she looked like a storm draped in a blazer.
"From this moment on, I am handling this case," she announced, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She walked straight to the table, eyes fixed on the detective. "First, you don't have a shred of proof that holds up to scrutiny. Release him."
"I told you, we have it," the detective countered, pulling a laptop forward. "Watch."
Jongsuk and Jae Ahn both leaned in as the grainy footage began to play. The screen showed a riverside, dark and slick with rain. A figure—tall, wearing a heavy coat—was hauling a limp, dead body toward the water's edge. As the figure turned, a car's backup camera caught a flash of the face.
It was Jongsuk.
Jongsuk felt the air leave his lungs. His voice went thin and tremulous. "Why me? Why... why does it look like me?"
The detective didn't stop there. "It's not just the body dumping. You're cruel enough to kill your own assistant's child. She was in that ambulance after a minor accident, and you took her from the stretcher. That's where you got that cut on your hand, isn't it? Your blood was found right there on the equipment."
"No! It wasn't me!" Jongsuk screamed, his head spinning.
Jae Ahn remained unnervingly still. She stared at the screen, her mind a whirlwind of logic and observation. The detective yelled back, slamming his hand down. "The video shows you! The blood matches! You're finished!"
"Detective," Jae Ahn interrupted, her voice eerily calm. "Do you have footage of the moment he supposedly got that scratch from the stretcher?"
"Yes," the detective sneered, clicking a second file. The video showed a man in a scuffle near an ambulance, his right hand catching on a sharp metal edge of a stretcher.
Jae Ahn stood up. "Jongsuk. Stand up."
He looked at her, confused, but obeyed.
"Look at him," Jae Ahn commanded the detective. "Look at the footage again. In the riverside video, look at the shoes. Jongsuk never wears that style of heavy work boot. And look at the height. Based on the railing in that shot, that man is roughly 6'1". Jongsuk is 6'3". Since when do people lose two inches of height overnight?"
The detective opened his mouth, but Jae Ahn kept going, her momentum unstoppable.
"Second. Jongsuk, how many stitches did you get for your wound?"
"Six," Jongsuk whispered, holding out his bandaged hand.
"Six stitches," Jae Ahn repeated, peeling back the edge of the gauze to show a deep, jagged laceration that required heavy closure. "Now look at your 'evidence' video. The man in that clip receives a superficial scratch. It barely bleeds. This wound Jongsuk has? It's deep, surgical. And most importantly..." She paused for maximum impact. "Jongsuk is left-handed. The man in your video uses his right hand for everything—the dumping, the struggle, the injury. Jongsuk's wound is on his right hand, yes, but a left-handed man wouldn't lead with his non-dominant side in a violent struggle."
She slammed the laptop shut. "I am the Lead Prosecutor in charge of this district's special cases. I am taking over. Now, leave this room."
Stunned and outmatched, the detective gathered his things and retreated. The heavy door clicked shut, leaving them in a sudden, ringing silence.
Jongsuk turned to her, relief flooding his face. "Jae Ahn, thank you. I knew you'd believe—"
"Don't," she snapped, her voice cold again. She didn't look at him. "Don't think I trust you. I only trust evidence. I said what the facts dictated, but I don't know you. To me, you're just a stranger, a 'crime partner' who happened to move in next door."
Jongsuk's shoulders slumped. He looked at the floor, his voice cracking. "I... I really didn't kill anyone."
"Fine. Then stop crying like a baby," Jae Ahn said, though her hand trembled slightly as she grabbed the laptop and the case files. She reached out, grabbing his hand—not with the desperation of earlier, but with a firm, professional grip—and pulled him toward the exit.
"Seeing those flaws in the video doesn't mean you're free," she warned as they walked out into the cool night air. "You're still the prime suspect because someone went to a lot of trouble to look like you. If we don't catch the real person, your life is over."
She stopped by her car and looked him in the eye. "Go home. Get whatever rest you can. Because starting tomorrow, we go to work. Be prepared, Jongsuk. This is only the beginning."