Joker (4)
“A criminal who evolves through learning? What do you mean?”
Lee Gyu-cheol drew in a short breath as he asked. Indeed, just like Teacher Kim Chan-heon. There was no better descriptor for the bastard.
“Doctors who wield scalpels call each other knife-handlers among themselves. It's awkward for me to say it myself, but I've heard I'm no slouch with a blade wherever I go. Even so, with marks like these...”
His gaze lingered briefly on the wounds covering the corpse.
“I couldn't make cuts this deep and even in a single stroke. Especially not on a living person, rather than a dead body. But if we assume what that Cheol-gu kid said is true, all the mysteries fall into place. If this isn't his first kill, that level of proficiency makes perfect sense.”
“So, similar crimes—meaning he refined his murders through practice. That's how I'm taking it for now. But what do you mean by 'evolves'?”
“The nagging doubt I kept having with this body was the lack of consistency. That's because I was treating it as a standalone case. But if it's a serial killing—in other words, not a finished product but a work in progress—all the questions resolve.”
Teacher Kim Chan-heon's eyes flashed sharply as he prodded his temple with the pen in his hand.
“You all know the difference between modus operandi—or M.O.—and signature, right? M.O. is the method of execution. In this case, it means the sequence from reaper-style cuts to finishing with strangulation. The killer is aware of his own methods too. Changing up his murder techniques to avoid capture and confuse the police investigation isn't uncommon in serial killings. But signature is different.”
Kim's pen pointed to the faint mark near the victim's mouth.
“This is the signature. It's not essential to the crime itself—it's something the killer does out of impulse or psychological need, a kind of identity. Unlike M.O., it tends to be consistent. But this guy's even changing his signature. Or more precisely, he will in the future.”
“...What does that mean?”
After steadying his breath, Teacher Kim drew a single line on a sheet of A4 paper and handed it to Gyu-cheol along with the pen.
“What would you do with this if it were you?”
“Huh?!”
Gyu-cheol tilted his head, grabbed the pen, and started filling in the blank space.
“First, I'd draw a house, then a tree next to it, and a roof...! N-No way!”
“You're not a total dullard. Exactly.”
Ignoring Gyu-cheol's sharp intake of breath, Kim swallowed a groan as he stared at the mark left on the corpse's mouth.
“A guy with this level of madness and killing skill leaving just a simple line like this as his signature? Ridiculous. That mark on the body is a sketch on a blank white canvas. And no matter how psychopathic, he's still human—he'll want to complete the picture once he's started sketching. That's why I called this case a work in progress, not a finished one. I hate to believe it, but if all these hypotheses hold, his killings won't stop. Not with a slightly more evolved signature.”
Teacher Kim Chan-heon's profiling was spot-on. Different from Officer Heo Seon-sil's emotionless analysis, but his perspective, honed by years of autopsies, was razor-sharp. The bastard's crimes would evolve alongside his signature, with four more cases to come.
* * *
“Hyungnim. Do you think that Kim teacher was right earlier? You see this as a serial killing too?”
Back in the Violent Crimes Unit 3 office, Gyu-cheol finally spoke up heavily, gazing out the darkened window.
“If it wasn't serial, you couldn't explain the proficiency. He committed similar crimes before the Na Su-mi case—and worse, those might have been rehearsals for what's coming. ...Let's revisit the missing persons cases first. Check records from the past year across Seoul and all of Gyeonggi Province for anyone reported missing and later confirmed dead. Officer Heo, help Gyu-cheol out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even Officer Heo, who hadn't gone home despite the late hour, pulled up a chair and sat at a monitor.
In the original timeline, two weeks from now—October 21, 2013—a young woman's body would be found in Yongin-gu, Seoul. Sharp lacerations all over her body, cause of death strangulation—just like Na Su-mi's case yesterday. The unique signature: a 5cm tear from the left corner of the mouth, inflicted with a sharp blade. Police, deeming it a crime of grudge, jealousy, or sexual deviance, investigated her relationships and past offenders—but as if mocking them, the second crime hit on November 7. Another young woman, both mouth corners ripped open this time. The media dubbed it the “Joker Killings,” slamming police incompetence. Cops reclassified it as serial and threw everything at catching him. But they failed, and two more killings followed until the finale in April 2014.
I shook my head fiercely. In my past life, it ended unsolved. This time was different. I knew his M.O., his signature, his obsessions, his patterns. As I jotted them down in my police notebook and caught my breath quietly—
“Hyungnim! Found it. Take a look.”
Gyu-cheol called me over excitedly from his monitor.
“November 2012, Sangju City, Gyeonggi Province—a body of unknown identity was found. A homeless guy, nine stab and slash wounds total. Depths from 0.5cm shallow to over 2cm deep. Looks like he nicked the femoral artery in the thigh on the way, bled out.”
“'Looks like'? The local precinct didn't investigate properly?”
“You know how it is, hyungnim. Frontline cops don't dig into cases like this.”
Gyu-cheol let out a low sigh, shoulders slumping. A chronic Korean police issue. Dozens of cases a day with limited manpower meant prioritizing high-profile or public-interest ones. Social weaklings like the homeless got processed as unclaimed bodies and cremated. Having an autopsy report at all was rare.
“Email the wound photos to Teacher Kim Chan-heon first—check for same perp.”
“Got it. And should we lift the news embargo now? If it's serial like you said, going public could pressure him.”
In the past-life Joker case, his killings ramped up after the first news report, cooling-off periods shrinking. A show-off like him hated his spree getting buried, ignored. No attention hit harder psychologically. And there was one more thing to confirm.
“No, not yet. We keep the embargo for now and proceed as is. Officer Heo, a word.”
I called over Officer Heo Seon-sil, who'd been eyeing the body photos intently.
Of our team, she was best at assessing antisocial personality disorders. I needed her profiling.
“Sorry. No fancy hospitality this late—just vending machine coffee.”
“No problem. This station's machine hits the ideal golden ratio: 1 part coffee, 2.8 cream, 2.7 sugar. Perfect for my taste.”
I looked up in disbelief, but her expression was unchanged. No idea if she was serious or lightening the mood her way, but it eased my shoulders after a heavy day.
“Alright. What do you make of this case, Officer Heo?”
“If you're asking about the key issue—likelihood of more crimes—I say it's not just possible, it's certain. Reasons...”
She'd already downloaded it; she opened her phone and zoomed in on the body photo.
“See here: mark on only one side. Asymmetrical. Psychopaths obsess over perfection. Plenty of time for seventeen cuts, yet he leaves it asymmetrical? That's a declaration—promising a perfected version next time. That's standard cop profiling. My personal take...”
Heo Seon-sil rubbed her chin, furrowing her brow.
“Psychopaths get pleasure from controlling emotions—fear, anger, joy.”
Her eyes deepened; she gestured left to right at empty air.
“Victim in front of him. Killer forces a smile. Terrified victim grins desperately, mismatched to the horror—instinct to avoid provoking him. Killer wants max satisfaction: a full, beaming smile. So he mutilates. Satisfied now?”
She shook her head slowly, a low breath escaping.
“No. Tears streaming from eyes, mouth torn in a grin—asymmetrical. Psychopaths crave perfection. Can't stand the imbalance. So what next?”
Her hand mimed covering something forward.
“He'd mutilate the other side too. Or stitch the torn mouth back somehow.”
My gaze shook uncontrollably as I watched her. Chillingly accurate. In his April 2014 finale, the body had both lips slashed then grotesquely sewn with fishing line. A detective who reads psychopath minds. Creepy, yet reassuring. A time bomb that could go off anytime—but the serial killer's worst nightmare, a double-edged sword. That was Officer Heo Seon-sil.
* * *
“Hyungnim, is your source solid? No evidence the perp targeted this victim specifically.”
“Later. Focus on Yoon Seo-ra now.”
Teacher Kim Chan-heon analyzed the homeless body's photos against Na Su-mi's case and concluded high chance of same perp. With the rehearsal confirmed, the past-life events were likely too. If history held, today—October 21—Yoon Seo-ra in this multi-family villa's Room 312 would be his official first victim.
Third day of stakeout. Dark circles deepened under Gyu-cheol's eyes. Chasing a perp beat this soul-draining wait for an unknown arrival.
“Hyungnim, Yoon Seo-ra's coming in. No tail, nothing unusual. Call it?”
Gyu-cheol rubbed his hollow eyes, pointing to a woman heading up the villa.
Three days showed her routine: home by 6:45-7pm sharp.
“Hyungnim, keep waiting?”
“Nah. Pull out.”
Gyu-cheol massaged his stiff neck. 9pm now. Nothing happened. History didn't always follow past-life memory—I'd learned that. At least, one who should've died lived. Nodding in relief—
A patrol car's siren blared furiously.
Wee-oo-wee-oo!
“H-Hyungnim! Why's patrol rushing out like that?”
“Follow 'em.”
Patrol cars didn't speed like that in narrow alleys. This motion meant...
At a building like our stakeout spot, a district cop controlled the hasty police line outside. Rescue workers emerged from the semi-basement, shaking heads. Their empty hands and grim faces told the tale.
Flashing ID, I entered. Stale blood stench assaulted my nose. Handprints smeared every wall. 5cm tear centered on the mouth.
The “Joker Killings” had burst into the world.