Faceless Killer (8)
Five minutes? Ten? He had no sense of how much time had passed.
Rough combat boots stepped toward the fallen Yoo Seon. Kang Cheol-gu squatted down and opened his mouth.
“You ever catch that show I was on? Pretty good ratings. I said something there. There's no such thing as anger management issues. Applies to psychopaths and narcissists too. Overwhelming violence makes all their criminal bullshit vanish.”
This bastard's mocking me.
Tears streamed from the corners of Yoo Seon's eyes. He loathed his own submission to this barbaric violence more than the cop himself.
“So, let's start over.”
'Ugh, it's not over?!'
“I was wrong! P-please spare me!”
The words burst out in desperate frenzy before he knew it. His hand grew warm. The moment he imagined that violence, piss soaked his pants.
“Look at yourself right now. How are you any different from those toys you used to mock?”
Flies rode the wind to Yoo Seon's face. He swatted at them, but they clung, drawn by blood and tears. Cold from the concrete rooftop seeped through his soaked pants, making his knees tremble uncontrollably.
* * *
“What narcissists fear most?”
A faint crease formed between Officer Heo Seon-sil's brows.
“Narcissists—people with narcissistic personality disorder—fundamentally overinflate themselves.”
She took a sip of coffee to wet her throat.
“But in truth, narcissists crumble easier than anyone. They see the world as a threatening place, so they distrust everyone they meet. That wariness triggers a defense mechanism called a 'chosen people' ideology. They're convinced they're not ordinary, that they're the elect.”
Officer Heo Seon-sil drew a deep breath.
“What they fear most is the moment they have to admit they're ordinary too.”
* * *
The camera lens that had been filming Park Pil-sang was now pointed at him.
“You're just a dime-a-dozen voyeur. Strip away the fancy degree and background, and you're a pathetic lump of inferiority.”
“No!”
Somehow finding the strength, Yoo Seon shoved Kang Cheol-gu away and staggered to his feet. He leaped to the railing and climbed atop it.
Whoosh!
The wind on the 15th-floor rooftop howled fiercely. On a gap less than 30 cm wide, Yoo Seon's feet wobbled precariously.
“Who the hell are you to judge and evaluate me?”
Kang Cheol-gu's lips curled like he was eyeing an amusing toy.
I want to rip that smirk apart.
“You drove people to suicide with a few words. Look at you now. A few words from me, and you climbed up here yourself. Borrowing your phrasing... how exactly are you different from those retarded fuckers?”
His breath caught. Am I dancing to this guy's tune?!
He shook his head violently. Even in this chaos, his brain spat out the most rational answer.
Admit defeat today. There's the Yangjicheon footage, but no proof the guy in it is me. Hire an expensive lawyer, and I can slip out easy. Survive first.
But.
Piss stench wafted on the wind, acrid and revolting. The image of himself rubbing his hands like a dog, begging for mercy, wouldn't fade from memory. A nightmare that'd haunt him forever.
I want it gone.
One foot lifted slowly from the railing. One more step, and freedom from this nightmare.
Yoo Seon turned to Kang Cheol-gu. No sign of stopping him.
That gaze—it was the same one he'd used on his victims.
'This bastard planned this from the start.'
Resignation shadowed Yoo Seon's face. He took the final step.
The instant his foot met empty air, wind battered his body. A dull thud echoed from the Taeyoung Apartment parking lot.
* * *
[Shocking news. The mystery of the extreme choice at Taeyoung Apartment in Gangcheon-gu two nights ago has been solved.]
The announcer's voice, usually steady through dozens of violent crimes daily, trembled faintly.
[Yoon, a student at a top domestic university, took his own life that night. Some blame success-worship culture or performance pressure in universities. But analysis of Yoon's camera from the scene revealed a stunning truth. It contained footage of multiple suicides. Yoon ran a suicide site and filmed them. Notably, he appeared as the direct perpetrator in the recent Yangjicheon mass suicide, claiming an 18-year-old high school girl's life. Showing severe paranoia as police closed in, Yoon filmed even his own final moments in this grotesque act.]
Beep!
The TV monitor in Violent Crimes Team 3's office went dark.
“A fitting end for an Oppenheimer.”
“What do you mean?”
Detective Kim Gwang-il asked at Officer Heo Seon-sil's quiet remark.
“Oppenheimer, father of the Manhattan Project—the world's first nuke—suffered crushing guilt after. Yet he hypocritically said he'd do it again if time rewound. Our perp died without regretting his choices to the end.”
“Dunno the reference, but good riddance! Even if we'd nabbed him, court would've gone easy. First offense, mental issues—bullshit excuses, maybe a year tops? Why'd a tough bastard like that off himself?”
“Who knows. Someone might've pulled his trigger. Backed him into a corner where death was the only out.”
Officer Heo Seon-sil glanced my way before continuing.
“And personally, I support that someone. Legally, cops arrest and let the law judge. But our system can't keep up with evolving criminals. Not cop talk, but sometimes extralegal measures are essential.”
Her eyes were ice cold.
The moment I stepped out of Gangcheon Police Station, a familiar shadow sidled up and whispered.
“Hyungnim, it's Park Jin-tae. Saw the news? Edited that footage just like you said—killer job.”
“Yeah. Good work. That female clerk's mouth sealed tight?”
“Yep. No worries. Didn't tell you, but she's got her own skeletons. Can't blab anywhere.”
He scanned around and handed over a small bag.
“And this. Cracked the bastard's laptop.”
“You peek inside?”
Park Jin-tae's throat bobbed faintly.
“Lying if I said no curiosity. But I know my place. Info you can't handle just burns you.”
* * *
A tune leaked from Professor Seo Chi-yoon of Jeong-un University's lips.
No contact from 'that guy' in a week. The obsessive fucker always messaged on the dot...
Unbelievable.
And news of the elite uni kid who ran the suicide site jumping to his death.
Twenty years eating judge's scraps made him no fool. He could infer the connection.
Instinct screamed it.
'That was him!'
Three days passed, but as expected, no Telegram ping. Faint hope hardened to certainty.
The guy's dead.
Grad school orientation today. Endless emails and calls begging him to attend.
Seo Chi-yoon knew their pleas were fake. Kids wanted to party free, but grad students were prof slaves for a reason. With degrees in his hands, they'd kiss ass.
As he leisurely adjusted his tie, his phone buzzed.
'Whining about being late?'
Checking the screen, his shoulders slumped. Pupils quaked.
A new order from 'that guy' filled the display.
Ragged breaths escaped as he read.
“N-no, impossible!”
A shabby scream erupted from the middle-aged professor at his front door.
* * *
[News brief. Professor Seo Chi-yoon of Jeong-un University, known for defending colonial historiography, has donated 1.3 billion won to the 'Right History Foundation,' sparking buzz. A former judge with a history of controversial rulings, netizens are split on his sudden change of heart. Seo claims it's just a citizen's duty.]
– Does throwing cash erase his past sins?
– Money's innocent tho!
– Seo's getting roasted in conservative right-wing communities. Even nationalists calling him a bat. Spent big and ended up a duck egg on the Nakdong River. haha
“Seo Chi-yoon due for death or what? Why the sudden charity?”
“Dunno. But props for the cash, at least.”
As I shrugged at Gwang-il's question, the door opened and Chief Kim Dong-sik entered. His breathless voice boomed.
“Inspector Kang, perfect timing! Got good news today.”
“Good news...?”
“Whole Violent Crimes Team 3 named outstanding public servants for proactive policing! Everyone gets a special one-rank promotion. Officer Heo Seon-sil just gets a regular bump, though.”
Uncharacteristically genuine congratulations. Makes sense—team results boost the station's eval, and his own performance review.
“Know what this means? Out of 703 screened nationwide across 17 provincial police agencies, only 24 selected. And four from our Gangcheon Station! Haha! I pulled some strings behind the scenes, of course.”
Classic Kim, claiming a slice.
Senior Inspector. Less than 10,000 out of 120,000 cops—a key investigative role. In emergencies, first-response authority, even SWAT deployment.
No more firepower regrets.
Secured combat assets for 'Yangji.'
My fist clenched slowly.
* * *
“That's it! Push in deeper. Don't give ground there!”
At Munseong High, hosting the National Youth Athletics minus-54kg middle school boxing finals, a middle-aged man cheered wildly.
“Slip a tempo ahead, then smack the jab! Control your breath, wait him out! Opponent's tiring.”
His eyes locked on the young boxer in the ring.
Park Man-cheol, Ma Hyeok's self-proclaimed sponsor.
Spouting pro terms, clearly more than just funding scholarships.
“What do you think, Inspector Kang? Hyeokkie's got this, right?”
Our Hyeokkie. Spoke volumes about the councilor's affection.
“Points even so far. Final round decides.”
But unease nagged me throughout. I shook my head unconsciously.
I know Ma Hyeok's boxing—his real skill. From last time against those juvenile delinquents.
That's not his boxing.