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

The police car weaves through Gwangju's late-night traffic, its siren silent to avoid alerting our potential suspect. Despite the lack of audible alarm, the tension inside the vehicle is almost suffocating. Ko's hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with strain.

Her eyes are focused intently on the road ahead, occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror to ensure we're not being followed.

I sit in the passenger seat, a hastily compiled dossier open on my lap. The streetlights intermittently illuminate the pages as we pass, giving me brief glimpses of the information we've managed to gather in such a short time.

In the back seat, Detective Kim and Sergeant Yoon are engrossed in their phones, coordinating with other team members and units, their hushed voices adding to the atmosphere of urgency.

"What can you tell me about her?" Ko asks, breaking the tense silence. Her voice is steady, but I can detect the underlying strain.

I flip through the pages, piecing together the life of our potential victim. "Her name is Ho Mi-sook, 28 years old," I begin, my voice low and measured. "She's been working for the Yakuza's operation for approximately two years now."

As I delve deeper into Mi-sook's background, the grim reality of her life becomes apparent. "She fits the profile of our killer's preferred target perfectly," I continue, the weight of this realization settling heavily in my chest. "Troubled background, estranged from her family, no close friends or relationships outside of her work in the sex industry."

Ko nods grimly, her jaw tightening. "Someone who wouldn't be immediately missed if she disappeared."

"Precisely," I confirm, the implications hanging heavily in the air between us. "She dropped out of high school at 16, has a history of drug abuse, primarily methamphetamines, and a minor criminal record for possession and solicitation."

I pause, noting an interesting detail. "Interestingly, the Yakuza claim they've been helping her stay clean. According to this, she's been in and out of rehab facilities, but her current employers have been providing support in exchange for her work."

Detective Kim leans forward from the back seat, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen. "Any family members who might report her missing?"

I shake my head, feeling a pang of sadness for this woman I've never met. "Both parents are deceased. Car accident when she was 19. No siblings. She's essentially alone in the world."

"The perfect target for our killer," Sergeant Yoon mutters, giving voice to the thought we're all having.

As we navigate through the increasingly narrow streets, approaching the love hotel district, I can't help but reflect on the cruel irony of the situation. Mi-sook, a woman who's spent her life being overlooked and undervalued by society, might now be at the center of one of the biggest manhunts in Gwangju's recent history.

The garish neon signs of various love hotels begin to appear, their lurid colors a stark contrast to the gravity of our mission. Ko slows the car, her eyes scanning the buildings.

"There," she says, nodding towards a particularly nondescript establishment. "That's the one, according to the Yakuza's information."

As we pull up to the curb, the reality of what we might find inside settles over us like a heavy blanket. This could be the moment we've been working towards, the chance to finally catch our killer in the act. But it could also mean we're too late to save another victim.

"Remember," Ko says as we prepare to exit the vehicle, "we don't know for certain that our killer is involved. We treat this as a potential crime scene, but we also need to be prepared for the possibility that Mi-sook is simply running late or had a reason to go off-grid."

We nod in agreement, but the tension in the air suggests none of us truly believe in that more innocent scenario. As we approach the hotel entrance, I steel myself for what we might encounter. The hunt for our elusive killer has led us to this moment, and I'm acutely aware that the next few minutes could change everything.

As Ko and I step into the dimly lit lobby of the love hotel, the air thick with the scent of cheap air freshener, we're immediately struck by the worn-down appearance of the place. The faded wallpaper and scuffed floor speak of years of neglect.

Behind a scratched plexiglass window sits the owner, a middle-aged woman with dyed hair and too much makeup. Her expression sours as she sees us approach, her eyes narrowing with obvious annoyance.

"Police again?" she practically spits the words. "What is it this time?"

Ko and I exchange a quick, concerned glance before I step forward, keeping my voice calm and professional. "Ma'am, we're here about Ho Mi-sook. Could you tell us which room she's in?"

The owner rolls her eyes dramatically. "You people just can't make up your minds, can you? This is the second time today the police have come asking about her."

My heart rate quickens at her words. "I'm sorry, what do you mean 'second time'?" I ask, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.

She sighs heavily, clearly put out by having to explain. "Earlier today, another officer came by. Showed his badge, very official-like. Said there was some kind of investigation involving Mi-sook and that he needed to take her in for questioning."

I can feel Ko tense beside me. This is not good.

"Did you see them leave together?" Ko asks, her voice tight with controlled anxiety.

The owner nods, waving her hand dismissively. "Yeah, about five hours ago. Mi-sook seemed surprised, but she went with him. Haven't seen her since."

My mind is racing. A man impersonating a police officer, taking Mi-sook away... this fits perfectly with our killer's evolving M.O.

"Can you describe this officer?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

The owner shrugs. "Average height, I guess. Dark hair. Nothing special. Wore a suit, had a badge. Looked like any other cop to me."

I turn to Ko, our eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. We're too late. Our killer has already been here, and he's taken Mi-sook.

"We need to see the room she was in," Ko says, turning back to the owner. "Now."

As the owner grudgingly leads us upstairs, I can't shake the feeling of dread settling over me. We're now in a race against time to find Mi-sook, and our killer has a significant head start. The hunt has taken a dark turn, and I fear we're now chasing not just a killer, but potentially a hostage situation as well.

The shabby corridor seems to stretch endlessly before us as we follow the owner, each step feeling like we're moving further away from our chance to save Mi-sook. Stay connected with m|vl|e|mp|y|r

As the owner reluctantly unlocks the door to Mi-sook's room, Ko and I exchange a tense glance. We step inside, the stale air hitting us immediately. The room is small, dimly lit by a bedside lamp with a faded shade. The bed is unmade, sheets rumpled but not excessively so.

I pull on a pair of latex gloves, noting Ko doing the same. We begin our careful examination of the space, looking for any clues that might tell us what happened here.

"Look at this," Ko says, pointing to a small trash can near the bed. Inside, we can see used tissues and a discarded sanitary product wrapper.

I nod grimly. "Suggests she was here alone for some time. No evidence of a client."

As we continue our search, the picture becomes clearer. A half-empty water bottle on the nightstand, a romance novel with a bookmark about halfway through, Mi-sook's bag with her personal items still inside - everything points to a woman who was waiting, alone, for a considerable amount of time.

"She came here expecting a client," I muse aloud, "but ended up waiting for hours. Why didn't she leave?"

Ko shakes her head, frustration evident in her voice. "Maybe she was told to wait. Maybe the 'client' kept making excuses, saying he was on his way."

Just then, Sergeant Yoon appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. "Detectives, we've got confirmation from the station. No officer was dispatched to this location today. Whoever took Mi-sook was definitely impersonating law enforcement."

The gravity of the situation settles over us like a heavy blanket. Our killer has evolved, becoming bolder and more sophisticated in his approach.

"He lured her here," I say, the realization dawning. "Set up a fake appointment, made her wait, isolating her. Then showed up pretending to be a cop, knowing she'd be less likely to resist or cause a scene."

Ko nods, her expression grim. "It's clever. Reduces the risk of witnesses, gives him control of the situation from the start."

As we continue to process the scene, my mind races with the implications. Our killer is adapting, learning from each encounter. He's no longer just opportunistic - he's actively setting traps for his victims.