15.

The town precinct was not what I had remembered it six—no, now seven—years ago when I was last here with my parents, feeling the remnants of shock and anguish after the sudden disappearance of my younger brother. Mum and Dad had stormed in, demanding for the chief of police, a case for their youngest son to be opened immediately, whereas I lingered behind them incapable of such an uproar in my despair.

But unlike the panic and bustle of the past, Gwangsu's correctional services head office was calm and quiet. An unexpected combination that if not for the fact that I knew the person responsible for me being here, I could have mistaken it for a general office lobby. The sombre greys and blues, cold white vending machines, and small scattered chairs about the entrance was a combination unfit for a welcoming.

Too anxious to properly attire myself for the occasion upon receiving the call half an hour ago, I slapped on an ed denim shirt over a plain black tee and put on the first pair of jeans I could find. My trainers were still terribly marred – albeit looking even worse than they did now in daylight – but I found it hard to concern myself with such trivialities. After all, the fact that I had been summoned to the police station in association with the case involving myself and Hansol was reason enough not to be.

I had been bleary-eyed with sleep when Mum relayed the message; the worry in her eyes evident at the notion. I couldn't blame her. The announcement made me turn pale; a stirring at the pit of my belly accompanying the dreadful anticipation. Considering the nature of my case, there was no denying the fact that whatever I was to be told would be far from good news.

I loitered impatiently in the station waiting room, glancing nervously about my surroundings, feeling the pangs of a skipped breakfast nip at me. The combination was a sickly one. But as much as my mother urged me to eat even a slice of toast, I couldn't stomach the thought from the gnawing anticipation.

I took to staring at a spot of no particular interest on the short, stained carpet of the room when a familiar voice interrupted my speeding train of thoughts.

'Miss Song,' he said, and I looked up almost immediately to meet him. 'I'm pleased you could make it.'

Detective Nakamoto Yuta smiled at me; the expression still one that betrayed nothing of its calculating, unsettling nature. I nodded, mildly surprised to see him dressed out of his usually bulky coat and hat, and instead clad in a white dress shirt – the sleeves folded to his elbows – with a contrasting gunmetal tie, black straight pants and leather oxfords.

'Coffee?' he gestured to the cup in his hand.

'No, thank you,' I quickly responded, and feeling his eyes on me after, added, 'I'm fine.'

'You really look like you could do with some.'

I couldn't understand where the detective was going with that assumption, and only watched on as he waved a hand about for me to follow him. He his heel with me in tow; the two of us ambling into the bowels of the precinct that remained as quiet, uneventful, and musty as it was when I had first entered.

The detective stopped near a room at the far corner. 'Make yourself comfortable, Miss Song.'

'Excuse me?'

'I'll be right back.'

Yuta didn't give me a chance to question his sudden departure. He stalked off with one last smile – the expression perhaps to ease my concerns when in fact it did the opposite – and I stood shuffling near the room we arrived at, staring into it with a nameless dread. But my reluctance only forestalled the inevitable. I wanted answers, and mustering the courage to face them, I did as he told and made for one of the two chairs placed on either side of a large steel desk.

It didn't take me long to place it was an interrogation room; the large black box at the very end of the table a sure sign of that. My thoughts took a lurch into a combination of apprehension and uncertainty. Could I have been called in for questioning? The concern quickly gave rise to a much more alarming probability, but the moment I noticed Yuta enter the room, I mitigated it, mustering back my composure.

I watched the detective intently as he reappeared with an extra cup of coffee. Closing the door behind him, he approached the desk and placed it at the centre of the table for me to take, however I made no move to do so, instead waiting for him to settle into the chair across from me.

Yuta's demeanour was far from similar to my own. Whereas I could barely relax in the cold plastic chair, the detective sat calmly in his own; his shoulders slack and breathing even as he sipped coolly from his cup; his eyes never leaving me as he did.

I was the first to break the expectant silence. 'Why did you request my presence, Detective Nakamoto?'

'Because there are some questions I'd like to ask you as soon as possible, Miss Song,' he shot back; his eyes darting to the untouched cup in front of me. 'Do you take milk and sugar in your coffee?'

'Thank you, but I already stated I was fine,' I said firmly, pressing, 'what questions would you have me answer?'

'They are pertaining to Ji Hansol.'

It was as if the mention of the name cast a spell of trepidation in the room. Perhaps the detective noticed. Because his eyes seemed to spark at the prospect and he abandoned his cup, reaching for his side of the desk where he first flicked a switch on the black box and thereafter produced a clear crate filled with several transparent packets from what I could only assume was a drawer below. I stared at them, uncertain of where the detective was going with this, when he fished for a particular one, raising it for me to see.

'These are the items we found on the deceased's body after the investigation,' he explained. 'I would like for you to observe these items very carefully and pick out anything you recognise. I needn’t remind you that your full cooperation will undoubtedly aid in identifying yours and Mister Ji’s attacker.'

I would have been lying if I claimed the spectacle didn't take me aback. In fact, it was overwhelming to some measure. The fact that Hansol had personal items recovered since the accident hadn't occurred to me until now. And glancing between the scattered packets in the box filled with various trinkets and such, I couldn't help but wonder how much had really been withheld from me, or even Hansol's family for that matter.

'How long have you had these for...?' I asked slowly, carefully, unable to tear my eyes away from the thin silver chain in one of them.

'Since the morning we recovered his body.'

'Did his family not ask to have them returned?'

Yuta stared at me for a long moment; eyes hard but his smile unfaltering. 'They are no longer considered personal items, Miss Song. This is now evidence of an ongoing police inve