On a freezing morning, the Seoul sky was draped in heavy clouds, as if it knew… that something unnatural was unfolding. Inside the police station, the usual bustle was absent. No light laughter, no idle chatter. Only… the hum of machines, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the sound of strained breaths.
In the center of the room, a large screen flickered to life. Everyone stood before it.
"The final results are confirmed," Detective Lee's assistant said without turning around.
Lead Detective Kim stepped forward, hands buried in his pockets, eyes fixed on the display.
"All the parts…" He paused for a beat. "They belong to Woo-jin."
A collective sigh of relief caused a few shoulders to drop, as if they had been waiting for this grim confirmation.
But then
"Except… for the fingernail of the right pinky."
The tension snapped back instantly, sharper than before.
"Maybe—" an officer began, but Detective Kim cut him off.
"No."
He leaned closer to the screen. The image of the nail was magnified. The root was intact… clean… whole.
"Look closely," Kim said calmly, his voice commanding the room. "This isn't a broken nail. It was… extracted."
A heavy silence followed.
"No one does this to themselves and leaves it behind," he added, slowly looking up. "I believe there is another victim."
Hours Later – Subway Station
Inside a Seoul Metropolitan Subway station, life moved with mundane indifference. The rhythm of footsteps, doors sliding shut, announcements echoing through the speakers. Three high school students walked side-by-side, laughing loudly.
"I'm telling you, she was looking at me!"
"You're dreaming!"
They laughed. Then one of them said, "I'm hitting the restroom… don't run off!"
He stepped inside. The silence there was different—heavier. After using the stall, he pressed the flusher. At first, he didn't notice anything. Then, he froze.
The water… wasn't clear. It was crimson.
He stared for a few seconds, then let out a scoffing laugh, shaking his head.
"Very funny…" he yelled. "You two idiots! You think I'm gonna fall for this?"
He leaned in closer, peering into the tank. "Pathetic choice of a prank…"
With a swift motion, he gripped the lid and hauled it off.
In that instant, the world stopped. His mind, his breath, his voice—all paralyzed.
Then, a scream. Sharp. Ragged. It tore from his lungs instinctively. He stumbled back, hitting the wall, eyes dilated to their limit.
Inside the tank… was a head.
Frozen eyes. Pallid skin. And an unbearable silence.
Minutes Later
The scene had completely transformed. Yellow tape cordoned off the area. Onlookers were pushed back as whispers spread like wildfire. Inside the restroom, the air was thick. The forensic doctor knelt slowly before the tank. He looked, but did not touch.
"We've finally found news anchor Lee Woo-jin's head," he muttered.
At a glance, the doctor realized the red liquid filling the tank was merely dye.
"Wait," he whispered.
The detective stepped up. "What is it?"
The doctor pointed to the mouth. "This isn't right."
Tightening his gloves, he reached in with forceps. He pried the jaw open slightly and stopped.
"Yes…" he breathed. "There's something inside."
He pulled slowly. A small, transparent plastic bag emerged, vacuum-sealed with precision. Inside was a scrap of paper—pristine, as if it had never touched a corpse.
The Message
The team huddled around as the seal was carefully broken. The handwriting was stark, written in bold red ink. Straight, steady letters without a hint of a tremor.
Someone read it aloud in a hushed tone:
"Do you think she is lucky? Let's play a game. If you discover who the missing nail belongs to within a week… I won't kill her."
Silence. Seconds ticked by. No one spoke.
"I won't… kill her?" an officer whispered.
Detective Kim looked up slowly. "That means…" he trailed off. "There is a new victim. Abducted. And she is still alive."
"It's a woman," Kim noted. "The countdown has begun."
In the surveillance room, the footage rolled. The cameras never sleep. People entering, people leaving, many carrying similar bags.
"Stop there."
A man appeared. He was walking fast, but his gait was unsteady. He gripped a black bag tightly, glancing over his shoulder, wiping sweat from his brow. Suddenly, he changed direction, as if sensing he was being watched.
They tracked him through the lenses. A corridor… a staircase… a corner… then, the restroom.
The same place. He entered. Minutes passed. He exited… without the bag.
"We found him."
Later
The same man sat in a bleak interrogation room. His face was ghostly, his hands trembling.
"I… I didn't do anything…" his voice was a mere rasp. "I swear… I didn't know what was inside."
He paused, then rushed out the words, desperate to be rid of the burden. "A stranger called me. He threatened me. He said he knew everything… about my affair."
He hung his head. "He just said… take the bag… leave it in the restroom… and go."
He looked up, tears shimmering. "That's all… I swear."
Detective Kim stood up slowly, glancing at the digital tablet showing the red-inked note.
"He isn't hiding," Kim whispered to himself.
He looked at his team. "He's playing. And he's using people who have nothing to do with this."
His eyes returned to the sentence: I won't kill her.
"We have seven days," he said.
Outside, life went on as usual. People laughed, talked, and lived. But somewhere… one person was counting her breaths.
Waiting.
To see if she would be saved… or if she would become the next piece of the puzzle.