Joker (8)
Cha Mi-ran's white sedan turned onto a rural road. The suspect Gu Cheon-hee's vehicle maintained a proper distance, sticking to the course.
"That bastard's definitely tailing us! He's still following Reporter Cha's car. ...No, hyungnim! What are you thinking?!"
Lee Gyu-cheol's urgent voice aside, an unresolved question nagged at Kang Cheol-gu. As evident from the homeless man's body found in Gyeonggi Province, the killer had honed his murder techniques through practice runs. But only one body had been discovered. No genius could pull off such skilled killings after just a single rehearsal.
Moreover, the body at the scene had been bleeding profusely from head to toe yet somehow clung to life. The killer knew exactly how much blood loss it took to kill a person. That meant he'd secured precise data through multiple experiments beforehand. He needed a "workshop" where he could kill people, observe the process, and dispose of the bodies.
Kang Cheol-gu quickly dialed Team Leader Hwang.
"Team Leader Hwang, could you check the real estate records for Gu Cheon-hee that I asked about earlier? Not just him—his whole family."
– Got it. One moment... He's got unit 905 in Building 504 of the Argia Apartments in Gangnam under his name.... What's this? There's a pension in Jeongin-gu, Gyeonggi Province, in his mother's name. No change-of-use application, no lodging records. The place is just sitting empty.
"Team Leader Hwang. Coordinate with the local station and search that pension immediately. Deploy manpower and check the yard, any open lots around it—everything."
– You mean... there might be more bodies?
Hwang's voice grew heavy.
"Probably. Let me know the situation as soon as you arrive."
– Understood.
* * *
Over forty uniformed officers swarmed a pension in Jeongin-gu, Gyeonggi Province. Cops with probe rods scoured the front yard to the back hills, while broadcast vans lined up out front.
At the entrance with a clear view of the pension, a flushed-faced reporter gripped her mic.
[This is terrible news. Even after the arrest of the serial killer targeting young women in Gangcheon District, police are cautiously suggesting there may be more victims. On-site searches by frontline officers continue as we speak. Ah! Right as I say that—another body has been found!]
A cadaver dog's frantic barking rang out as a uniformed officer probing with his rod grimaced. Flashes erupted around him as he turned away, fighting vomit.
The reporter, catching her breath, gripped the mic again with effort.
[The prime suspect, identified as a Mr. Cheon from Seoul's orthopedic clinic, has shocked the public. By day, a respected doctor; by night, prowling the streets for victims in a double life. The fact that he targeted society's weak—like the homeless—for murder practice has amplified the horror. This case was cracked thanks to the efforts of Detective Kang Cheol-gu, who uncovered the truth in the recent Jungcheon District academy violence scandal, and the entire Gangcheon Station team. Here's Team Leader Hwang Woo-sik of Violent Crimes Unit 3 with his thoughts.]
Flashes popped from all sides, but Hwang handled the media questions with seasoned ease.
"Could you give a brief overview of the investigation?"
"It's pre-indictment, so details are limited, but from Detective Kang Cheol-gu's overall command, to Detective Kim Gwang-il who cuffed the perp himself, Detective Lee Gyu-cheol who tailed him, and Officer Heo Seon-sil who nailed the profile—everyone's efforts made this arrest possible. And many others whose roles I can't disclose for security reasons all came together."
Meanwhile, reporters bombarded the beet-red Kim Gwang-il and Cha Mi-ran.
"Detective Kim Gwang-il! We hear you blocked the knife the killer swung at the hostage—with your bare body. Citizens are cheering you as a true cop who puts life on the line. What was going through your mind?"
"...I just moved on instinct, no thinking. Hey, back off a bit with the questions...!"
Beside the sweating Gwang-il, annoyed by a pretty reporter's thrusting mic, Cha Mi-ran fielded her own barrage.
"Reporter Cha, you're in a delicate spot right now. Your thoughts on journalistic ethics versus societal good?"
"If journalism is just info-dumping, my actions were dead wrong—I intentionally ran false stories. But to me, journalism dances on the tightrope between ethical values and professional duty. My top ethical priority is human life, and if protecting it means taking heat, I'll gladly do so."
"No way! Who's bashing Reporter Cha?!"
"That's real journalism!"
Cheers and applause followed from fellow reporters as Cha Mi-ran bowed quietly, eyes still misty. But amid the frenzy, Jeong Seong-gyu of Kangseong Ilbo shook his head.
"...Journalism? Ethical values? That senior spews lies every time she opens her mouth!"
His voice drowned in the heated scrum.
"Last question. Even with good intentions, running fake news takes guts for a reporter. Was it your call alone?"
"No. I want to thank our editor-in-chief, who agonized over and approved every decision with me."
Jeong Seong-gyu's jaw dropped, his camera clattering to the ground.
* * *
A single yellow sodium lamp on the ceiling lit the small room. Gu Cheon-hee sat at a crude metal desk, fiddling with his bandaged right hand. He only winced occasionally at the pain knitting his brow—no other words.
Across from him, Officer Heo Seon-sil typed on her laptop.
"How's it going? Still the same?"
"Yeah. That bastard Gu Cheon-hee is one thing, but Officer Heo ain't normal either. Three hours in the interrogation room and not a peep outta either of 'em."
Kim Gwang-il stuck out his tongue, peering through the massive one-way glass.
"But hyungnim, I get she's calm and capable, but writing up the statement against that guy? Isn't that jumping the gun? Even vets with over ten years say interrogating a murderer leaves your soul scraped out. And this guy's a serial killer. Too risky."
"We'll see who breaks first."
'I'll take the statement.'
That was Heo Seon-sil's immediate response when she saw the shackled, head-bowed Gu Cheon-hee enter Gangcheon Station.
'...I trust your skills, Officer Heo, but isn't it dangerous?'
'He covered his face with a mask coming in, but his eyebrows and brow furrowed faintly. He was smiling. A true psychopath wouldn't show emotion in that spot. There's something I need to check.'
After thirty minutes of typing, Heo stretched and picked up the mic linked to the office—visible to them but not inside.
She glanced their way.
– Meal time. Get some seolleongtang, please.
"What the hell! She knows everyone's watching her now! What's Officer Heo's game?!"
Gwang-il blurted as Kang Cheol-gu grabbed the mic instead.
"Two bowls?"
– No. Just one.
"Hyungnim, even if he's a suspect and serial killer, starving him—or eating solo right in front of him—what's the play?"
Gwang-il tilted his head, baffled.
Gu Cheon-hee, still bowed, fixed his gaze on Heo as she scraped her seolleongtang bowl. His throat bobbed.
"...She's breaking him."
"Huh?"
"First, she made him feel like a zoo monkey on display. Now, no food for him. Even the worst criminals get fed, but not you—that's the message. You can't teach that. It's instinct."
Gwang-il swallowed hard without realizing.
"...I have something for you."
Four hours in, Heo finally spoke to Gu Cheon-hee. She rummaged in her bag and tossed a disposable container in front of him.
"Your finger from the scene."
Expression cracked Gu Cheon-hee's face for the first time.
"It's already decaying—nerves and vessels dead. No reattachment possible. Too bad."
Heo continued flatly, face betraying zero regret.
"No point asking how many more crimes beyond the discovered victim. You won't answer anyway."
He lifted his head, meeting her eyes.
"Won't ask why you killed them either. People kill for no reason—or just for fun. But... you're still single, huh."
Their gazes locked for the first time.
"Forty-one, decent looks, owns an orthopedic clinic in Gangnam. Prime catch, yet unmarried. And you don't hate women—quite the opposite. You treat them special."
"Enough with the cheap profiling."
Gu Cheon-hee's first words since entering.
"Fine. I admit it. You win. So write up the statement and—"
"All the bodies you displayed at scenes? Women. Your art, right? But the buried homeless? All men. What does that say? Men are just practice fodder. Women hold your true value."
His lips began to tremble.
"A man who prizes women so highly—why still single? Checked your clinic's nurses—no scandals, not even a whisper. ...Not curious about your murder motives. So I'll ask something else. ...When did it start?"
Heo rose slowly, closing in. Close enough to hear his breath. She leaned toward his face.
"Wh-what the hell is she doing?!"
Gwang-il's eyes bulged, jabbing at the glass.
Heo's lips whispered at his ear.
"...When did you go impotent?"
"I'll kill you!"
The mask of composure shattered. The surgeon who'd barely twitched at his severed finger went berserk like a madman. Blood beaded on his shackled wrists—he didn't even register the pain. His hands lunged for Heo's throat.
"Gwang-il! Stop him!"
"On it!"
Gwang-il bolted without looking back, restraining the thrashing beast.
Heo watched it all with cold eyes.
"You provoked him on purpose?"
"Yes. Too many inconsistencies for a textbook psychopath."
In the now-empty interrogation room, Heo Seon-sil nodded.