Detective Kim bore the weight of a woman's life on his shoulders... a woman waiting to be saved from the mercy of a serial killer, a man who could only be described as a human demon, devoid of any compassion.
In an abandoned factory, in one of the villages surrounding Seoul...
The rain was pouring heavily. Cold droplets seeped in slowly—drop... after drop—into a frigid room, stripped of any trace of life. A lamp hanging from the ceiling flickered wearily, as if gasping its final breaths. The stench of dampness and mold choked the air.
On the floor... sat a woman in her early twenties.
She was very slender, tall, and possessed beautiful features—though they were now distorted by agony. Dark red stains covered her clothes, and the marks of torture were ruthlessly scattered across her body. Her gaze... was vacant. Cold. As if she were bidding life a silent farewell. She stared at the ceiling... without blinking, pleading for a salvation she no longer believed in.
Then
Footsteps.
The sound of heavy tread in the corridor.
Her eyes suddenly widened, and her pulse quickened violently.
She whispered in a trembling voice: "He's... back..."
She fixed her gaze on the iron door, which was tightly sealed. The sound of keys. Then... locks turning, one after the other.
He entered.
A man with raven-black hair, wearing a terrifying mask that completely concealed his features. He stood firmly... his body leaning slightly toward her.
His voice was calm... terrifyingly so:
"Woo-jin... he worshipped weight."
She froze in place.
He continued slowly: "He insisted... that you must constantly lose weight."
He took a step closer.
"So... I gave him a perfect end."
He paused for a second... then smiled behind the mask:
"I dismembered his body. I arranged it with extreme care... every piece was exactly one kilogram."
He leaned in slightly, as if proud of his handiwork:
"No mistakes... not even a single gram."
He reached out... and gently touched her hair.
"Do you know... how lucky you are?"
Her body shuddered. He slowly took her right hand... then pressed his fingers against her pinky.
"You are very lucky indeed."
His voice grew even lower:
"They have one week. If they realize that this nail belongs to you... I will release you... with pleasure."
Her voice broke as she sobbed:
"Please... let me go... I haven't done anything..."
She stammered: "I haven't even seen your face... just... let me go... Why me?"
Silence reigned.
Then
He laughed.
A hysterical... cold laugh.
"Stupid girl..."
He approached slowly... until his voice was right at her ear:
"Don't you know your mistake?"
He whispered something...
In that moment, her features changed completely. Her eyes widened... but not with tears this time... but with pure, unadulterated horror. Her body froze... as if her soul had suddenly been withdrawn.
As if... the Angel of Death... had become closer than she could ever imagine.
At that very moment, Himi was stepping into a modest, popular eatery in the suburbs. The place was teeming with life; the clatter of utensils mingled with the laughter of patrons, and pungent aromas filled the crowded air.
"Ma'am, where is my order?" someone shouted from a corner of the room, while another called out impatiently, "Quickly, please! I'm practically starving!"
Amidst this chaos, the restaurant owner moved with the lightness of a butterfly accustomed to storms. Not a trace of tension showed on her face; instead, she distributed her radiant smile with every dish she served. She called out in a cheerful voice:
"I'm coming! A little patience won't kill anyone!"
She placed a bowl of cold noodles in front of a regular customer, then gave him a playful wink:
"You come here almost every day for the noodles... haven't you grown tired of my cooking yet?"
The customer replied, clutching his chopsticks eagerly:
"Ah, what can I do? My wife is a good woman, but her cooking... let's just say it's a lethal weapon!"
In the middle of this clamor, Himi sat in a dim corner, watching the scene in absolute silence. Her eyes were like a camera lens, tracking the woman's every move. The owner approached Himi's table, wiping her hands on her apron with a friendly smile:
"Beautiful young lady, what would you like to eat?"
Himi slowly raised her gaze, looking deeply into the woman's eyes, and said in a calm voice:
"Whatever you recommend, ma'am... it's my first time here."
Himi didn't order food to eat, but to wait. Her eyes remained fixed on the woman, observing the wrinkles on her face and the way she laughed, until the customers began to filter out one by one, and a stillness settled over the place, broken only by the sound of the rain outside.
The owner pulled up a chair and sat beside Himi, her professional smile fading, replaced by curiosity:
"What is it, young lady? Ever since you walked in, you've been watching me as if you're looking for something lost... Tell me, what's the matter?"
Himi answered in a steady tone:
"I learned from the customers that your name is Mrs. Young-ja."
The woman waved her hand dismissively and moved to stand up:
"That's right... but it's late, and I want to go home. Say what you have to say, quickly."
Here, Himi's voice dropped, becoming charged with memories:
"Do you remember the winter of 2005? On a bitter night like this... you found a child in front of..."
Suddenly, Mrs. Young-ja's face went pale. She bolted up in alarm, cutting her off with a trembling voice:
"Enough! Get out of here... I don't remember anything! I don't know what you're talking about!"
Himi tried to seize her last chance:
"Please, Mrs. Young-ja, just remember..."
But the woman gave her no chance. She shoved Himi forcefully toward the outer door and slammed it shut behind her, turning the lock while gasping for breath.
"Leave this place and never come back!" she screamed from behind the door.
Mrs. Young-ja leaned her back against the wooden door and closed her eyes, whispering to herself in terrified breaths:
"Haven't they grown tired of coming back? I told the one who came before you... I know nothing... I don't want to know anything!"