I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

The next day, I find myself standing in front of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, a sense of anticipation and uncertainty swirling in my mind.

I am here to meet Senior Superintendent Choi from the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit, a division renowned for its ability to investigate cases without jurisdictional limitations and involve itself in ongoing or new cases taken by other district police units.

As a low-ranking officer working in a remote part of Seoul, I can't help but wonder why Senior Superintendent Choi has asked to see me. The Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit is the most powerful department within the police force, coveted by many aspiring officers.

It is known for being highly selective and difficult to join, with most of its members being graduates of the prestigious Korean National Police University. Many of them also have backgrounds in medicine, law, and foreign languages.

Walking into the agency, I try to calm my nerves and focus on the task at hand. The building itself is imposing, a testament to the power and importance of the work conducted within its walls. As I make my way to Senior Superintendent Choi's office, I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Why has he summoned me? What can a low-ranking officer like myself possibly offer to someone of his stature and position? These questions race through my mind as I approach his door, ready to face whatever lies ahead.

The elevator ride to the Investigation Unit's floor seems to take an eternity. As the doors open, I am greeted by a sleek, modern office space that exudes an air of efficiency and professionalism. I approach the receptionist, introducing myself and stating my purpose for being there.

"Officer Park, here to see Senior Superintendent Choi," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

The receptionist, a young woman with a polite smile, checks her computer screen before responding, "Please follow me."

As I walk behind her, I can't help but notice the various awards and commendations displayed on the walls, a testament to the unit's excellence.

The receptionist takes me to what appears to be a waiting room. The waiting room itself also looks fantastic, decorated with trophies and photos of the unit's successful works. There are also photos of former leaders of the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit, including the current leader, Senior Superintendent Choi.

The receptionist asks me to wait for a moment and brings me a brochure. She tells me to have a look while I'm waiting. I nod and open the brochure. It is the promotional material of the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit, designed for the public.

I suddenly remember the news about the public criticism toward the unit, being too elite and too out of touch with the public. This brochure must have been made to promote a better image of the unit to the public.

As I go through the brochure, I land on the section where it talks about all the successful cases dealt with by the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit.

I check the cases one by one; the types of cases are various and indeed impressive. And then, my eyes stop at one specific case.

It's the case about a woman who died in an accident by driving her car into a remote reservoir on the outskirts of Seoul. Something about this case captures my attention. Perhaps it's the tragic nature of the incident or the remote location where it occurred. As I stare at the brief description, a sense of unease begins to creep over me.

The victim was a 27-year-old woman, married and pregnant at the time of her death. According to the information, the woman had recently obtained her driving license just a month prior to the incident. It appears that she crashed her car into the reservoir while practicing her driving skills. The estimated time of the incident was around 10:30 pm.

No cell phone was found near her, and the headlights of her car were off. A wound was discovered on her right head, but no other wounds or bruises were found on her body. The case was reported twice by a fisherman who discovered the car underwater, but the fisherman's identity remains unknown.

Just as I am about to delve deeper into my thoughts, I hear the receptionist call my name and ask me to follow her. I quickly close the brochure, my mind still grappling with the woman's death. As I trail behind the receptionist, I can't shake the feeling that there might be more to this case than what the brochure has revealed.

We approach Senior Superintendent Choi's office, and the receptionist gently knocks on the door before opening it.

As the receptionist opens the door to Senior Superintendent Choi's office, I take a deep breath and step inside. The room is spacious and well-appointed, with a large mahogany desk taking center stage. Behind it sits Senior Superintendent Choi, a man in his early fifties with a commanding presence.

He rises from his chair as I enter, a polite smile on his face. "Officer Park, I presume?" he asks, extending his hand.

I nod and shake his hand firmly. "Yes, sir. It's an honor to meet you."

Senior Superintendent Choi gestures towards one of the plush chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

I settle into the chair, my posture straight and attentive. The receptionist quietly exits the room, closing the door behind her.

"I trust your journey here was pleasant?" Senior Superintendent Choi inquires, his tone friendly yet professional.

"Yes, sir. Thank you for asking," I reply, trying to mask the nervousness in my voice.

Senior Superintendent Choi leans back in his chair, studying me for a moment before speaking again. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you here today, Officer Park."

I nod, my curiosity piqued. "Yes, sir. I must admit, I was quite surprised to receive your summons."

A slight smile plays on his lips.

Senior Superintendent Choi glances at the brochure in my hand and asks, "I see you've been reading our promotional material. What are your thoughts on the unit, Officer Park?"

I clear my throat, feeling a mix of nervousness and admiration. "I'm very impressed with the unit's work, sir. It's as outstanding as I've heard."

Choi nods, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Indeed. So, were you happy with everything in the brochure?"

At that moment, a realization dawns on me. This isn't just a casual conversation; it's a test of some sort. I take a deep breath and decide to be honest.

"Actually, sir, I have a question about one specific case," I say, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.

Choi raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What case?"

"The car accident case where the woman died by driving her car into the water," I reply, holding his gaze.

"What about it?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.

I choose my words carefully, not wanting to overstep my bounds. "With all respect, I'm not questioning the judgment of the unit's work, but there are some suspicious elements to this case that make me think it might not be an accident."

Choi's expression remains neutral, but I can see a glimmer of interest in his eyes.

"Tell me more."