#07 The Hunter Sets a Trap (4)
Sometimes, memories from the past would surface. After reassuring Nayae, who had barely spoken a word due to the shock, and safely escorting her home, Yuchan walked slowly back to the abandoned building where he had left Kim Hyunwoo. Amid the neon signs blurring like children's drawings and the bustling crowds, Yuchan was pulled into the recollections.
He remembered the exact day. It was during his summer vacation at age nine, when the cicadas screamed deafeningly loud.
"Yuchan, do you know why serial killers always end up getting caught?"
His father stroked his hair gently as he spoke to his own spitting image, his mirror self. Yuchan, looking up with innocent eyes, shook his head honestly. Everyone around him praised him as a genius; he'd skipped two grades thanks to a mind that always outpaced his peers. But sometimes, his father's words were beyond him.
Why do serial killers get caught? If they kill while avoiding attention and dispose of the bodies carefully, that should be enough. If there's nowhere to dump them, couldn't they just roast them in a fire pit like a barbecue and eat them up?
That was roughly the childish thought running through his mind back then.
"No, I don't know, Dad."
His father, whose face Yuchan could scarcely recall now, had been an excellent teacher and mentor, a friend and colleague who saw the world through the same eyes. The man loved nothing, but his affection for Yuchan was exceptional. And only later would Yuchan come to understand why. His father had been lonely.
"It's because their methods of killing become patterned. Like fingerprints, their unique style bleeds through in every murder."
I see. Even without knowing the killer's face, if detectives spotted a series of similarities in unsolved cases, they could piece together fragments of the perpetrator. By meticulously matching victim age groups, primary target genders, times and circumstances of the killings, the shadow shrouded in mystery would be laid bare.
"Then do you know why they stick to the same method?"
"Um, because it's convenient? Once it works once, they think it'll work again."
His father beamed with delight at Yuchan. Watching his son absorb his teachings so eagerly was a profound joy for any father. Yuchan smiled back, mimicking him. He'd read in a book that nine-year-olds laughed at the sight of tumbling leaves. Instilling such trivial habits would ensure no one looked at him strangely. Well, in summer, it was cicada nymph shells rolling around, not leaves.
"Exactly. That's sloth. They repeat proven methods instead of trying new ones. You understand what that implies, don't you, Yuchan?"
"Yes. They're not diligent. They don't try anything new."
"Right. It might work at first, but repeat it two or three times, and flaws inevitably emerge."
Yuchan nodded quietly. His father's words were always helpful. It wasn't some childish blind faith like Dad's Superman! He knew he hadn't yet reached his father's level in experience or intellect.
"That's why we must always experiment with new methods. There's no such thing as 'absolute' in this world. Doubt everything, and doubt it again. Most people are like goldfish with empty heads, but because they are, they've formed massive schools to protect themselves. Predators like us, who aren't goldfish, quickly become targets of their fear and rejection."
Years later, Yuchan would learn the lamentable truth that his father was just another goldfish. But that's a story for another time.
"So, do we have to pretend to be goldfish?"
Yuchan pursed his lips like a fish as he asked.
"Regrettable, but yes, we have no choice."
His father sighed in response but soon caressed Yuchan's shoulder with renewed enthusiasm.
"Class isn't over yet. What's the second reason?"
"What is it?"
It seemed the fruitful lesson would continue.
"It's their desire to show off. Many captured serial killers deliberately left traces at scenes. They just couldn't resist seeing their stories on the news."
"That's stupid. If they get caught, it's over."
His father gave stern warning at Yuchan's giggling. Perhaps it was advice born of experience.
"You must never do that. Your actions should be known only to you. Vanity is a useless emotion."
Self-recognition is enough on its own. That seemed to be the message. And yet, he boasted like this to his own son. Wasn't Dad just bragging to me too? Yuchan swallowed the thought. It had nearly slipped out. He was often startled by his own contrarian impulses. Hiding such feelings was another lesson from his father.
"But Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you have to kill Mom?"
The two-story house in Gimpo was where Yuchan spent his early childhood. A peaceful neighborhood, quiet except for the occasional planes from the nearby airport. Purple sunset light, as if cursed, seeped through the skylight, scorching the pitch-black room. The shadow of the window frame draped over his mother's cooling corpse, her chest torn open and leaking sticky blood onto the floor. Overlapping with the shadow, she almost resembled a modern art piece.
"Your mother, sadly, was a goldfish who couldn't understand us."
Feigning regret, his father pulled out coarse sodium hydroxide granules to resume work. According to him, luminol blood tests—commonly used—could be neutralized with sodium hydroxide. Processing over three days, followed by his own blood tests, ensured no conventional test would detect anything.
"But without Mom, who'll make dinner? Who'll do the laundry and cleaning?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question for Yuchan. His father, a research team leader at a major petrochemical firm, often worked late or stayed away. His housewife mother had filled those gaps. Who would have dinner ready when he got home from school now?
"It couldn't be helped. I tried passionately to persuade her. But what choice did we have? If not, you and I would have been separated forever. You wouldn't want that, would you, Yuchan?"
"Yeah... but still..."
This is all Dad's fault. If he'd cleaned up more thoroughly, their father-son pastime wouldn't have been discovered. They could have been sitting around the table eating kimchi jjigae right now.
His father pinched Yuchan's slightly puffed cheek, stretching the soft, baby-fat flesh.
"Don't worry. In a month or so, once I've composed myself, I'll hire a housekeeper."
"Composing himself" meant waiting an appropriate time after his wife's disappearance to avoid suspicion.
"Okay, Dad."
His father lovingly stroked the head of his son, who gazed back with clear, innocent eyes, just as always.
2. On the bed in the abandoned building where danger had nearly unfolded moments ago, Kim Hyunwoo sat biting his nails anxiously. Each approaching footstep made him tremble like a malaria patient. Then he saw it—Yuchan emerging from the shadows into the moonlight, resembling a black panther. A predator prowling the night streets slowly, flashing its fangs the instant it spotted prey.
"You're a good boy who listens well."
"I did exactly as you said. You'll delete the video now, right?"
"I deleted it the moment I saved it. No need to keep something that filthy, is there?"
Speaking casually like a friend, Yuchan lit a cigarette in front of Hyunwoo and offered one.
"Want one?"
"Huh? Sure."
Yuchan's treatment of Hyunwoo had been nothing more or less than that of a blackmailer. Flustered by the sudden friendliness, Hyunwoo took the cigarette anyway. Yuchan had pushed him this far mentally. Even if he wasn't a smoker, he would have accepted.
"We've had our bad blood, but that's over now, right? You're a full accomplice."
"Y-yeah!"
"Just send one last text to Nayae? Something like, 'Please meet me again. I can't live without you.'"
"Okay."
Hyunwoo texted Nayae immediately, but no reply came. This was the end, then. The thought made him melancholic.
"Breakups are sad for everyone. I get why you couldn't accept it. But there are things you can do and things you can't in this world. You crossed the line."
Yuchan pulled out one soju bottle from the pair he'd bought at a convenience store, handing the other in its bag to Hyunwoo. Without a word, he cracked his open and chugged nearly half in one go.
"I hold no grudge against you. I hope you feel the same."
Hyunwoo nodded weakly at Yuchan's sweetly whispered words. It felt like a complete farewell at last. Regret echoed belatedly in his chest.
"Can I ask one thing?"
"Go ahead."
Hyunwoo hesitated, then voiced the question gnawing at him.
"Why go this far? Nayae already seems to like you plenty."
It was the first thought that hit him upon obeying Yuchan's order. Lure Nayae out by threatening her with the video. Create the atmosphere of dragging her here to rape her, and he'd step in at the right moment to save her. Honestly, any man with a vivid imagination had fantasized about heroically rescuing his girlfriend from thugs. But hiring a villain to play the righteous hero? Yuchan's psychology eluded him. Nayae was already smitten. Why engineer such a contrived scenario?
By the time Hyunwoo's thoughts reached that point, he already saw Yuchan as dangerous. He'd even warned Nayae.
"It's stuffy here. Let's head to the roof? I'll explain on the way."
Grabbing his crutch, Hyunwoo limped ahead. The rooftop was on the eighth floor, so it took time, but Yuchan explained his thinking along the way.
"Like chicken?"
"Chicken? Who doesn't?"
An oddly out-of-left-field start for an explanation. But Yuchan enjoyed analogies. They forced listeners to reason along actively, heightening focus.
"Making chicken takes a ton of hassle. Nothing like boiling a cleaned bird. You brine it, batter it, fry it in oil at the right temp for ages. And that's not the end? Depending on taste, you sauce it up—like yangnyeom or soy sauce chicken."
Hyunwoo, slower on the uptake, couldn't quite follow. Yuchan felt a twinge of disappointment. Pity he isn't sharper.
"It's tastier when you put in the effort to cook it your way."
Hyunwoo glanced back. The black hallway let in no light without windows. Unlikely as it was, he swore Yuchan's eyes gleamed like a carnivore's in the dark.
Yuchan looked at him too.
"Make her depend only on me. Need only me. It's all stage props, and I just pull the strings lightly."
Even with the kind explanation, Hyunwoo didn't get it. Not from lack of smarts this time. Rough and brutal but utterly human, he couldn't grasp Yuchan's alien mindset.
"So why? Isn't it enough if the person you like likes you back? You've basically got what you want."
He wouldn't have resorted to tired blackmail if Nayae had kept liking him.
The rooftop door hung ajar, unused for ages. Most buildings locked them tight against suicides. A rusted chain, cut by a grinder, lay on the floor. Hyunwoo twisted it open. Yuchan followed leisurely.
"When you stack dominoes high, you wanna knock 'em down."
Just a boring game. Otherwise, he'd die of tedium.