It was still dark as Himchan drove up and through the mountains. His left hand was resting on the steering wheel, his right curved around the cardboard cup of coffee nestled between his thighs. The tip of his index finger was drumming a small rhythm on the cardboard, just a slow beat to focus his mind and keep himself alert, it was barely even five in the morning. Snow was still hugging at the edge of the road, and Himchan knew that the higher in the mountains he got, the more likely it was that ice would be coating the bitumen. Winter had been long and dark, the coldest they'd had since he was a teenager, and even as it neared late March, the season showed no sign of breaking, nor the snow any sign of melting. He had loved it at first, seeing the snow as it bucketed down and blanketed everything in white, especially when he travelled down south to visit his aunt's pension an hour or so out of Seoul. Usually in winter the paddock behind her house would be muddy and brown sometimes dusted with snow like icing sugar on top of a cake, but that winter it had been piled high and thick, resembling cotton wool or billowing clouds. Admittedly it got old fast, though, and by the time February rolled around, he was ready for Spring.

Lights flashed red and blue up ahead, reflecting off the snow and sending eerie shadows through his car. A man in uniform stepped out in front of him, face stern as he held up his hand to stop him from driving forward. Himchan pulled his hand from the warmth of his cup and grabbed his ID wallet from where it sat beside his gear stick, flipping it open and showing the shiny silver badge. Immediately, the uniform nodded his head and waved him through to where cars were clustered around out front of the old, grey apartment block. Three squad cars and the crime scene unit, and a dinged up white car nestled between them. He made a face at the vehicle, now that the owner couldn't see him.

“Detective Kim, good morning.” Another uniformed officer approached once Himchan had pulled to a stop and opened the door. He took hold of his cup again and took a large sip, then reached to the cup holder where another was sitting.

“Morning.” Himchan kicked his door closed with his foot and turned to look up at the building before them. It wasn't particularly huge, about seven stories and it looked cheaply built, maybe from the eighties or nineties. Dark windows made row after row across the facade, and there was only about two or three metres on either side of the block before another building began, and another on each side of those stretching on down the street. He glanced up to the telegraph poles lining the road with twisted wires and static lights and saw a single red balloon shaped like a heart quivering in the cold wind. Its string was tangled between electric lines and it appeared frantic in its attempts to break free, but it always bounced back again to its tether.

The door into the apartment block's lobby was thrown open again and two more uniformed police came down the stairs, followed by a brunette dressed in fitted jeans and an oversized jacket, with black framed glasses perched on his nose. Jung Daehyun had been Himchan's partner for three years, ever since he'd joined the ranks of the Korean Federal Police's selective Unit 12. He was young, but he was skilled at what he did, and Himchan trusted him with his life.

“Hyung.” Daehyun smiled as he stepped off the footpath and onto the road. The elder man held up the second cup of coffee, just as he took a sip of his own and Daehyun's smile only grew.

He took the cardboard cup between cold hands and groaned, “Have I ever told you that you're the love of my life?”

“Shut the up.” Himchan's tone was affectionate.

Daehyun gestured with his head towards the door, Himchan followed.

“What have we got?”

“Victim is an unidentified woman, early thirties. Found by some kids breaking into the apartment to smoke, apparently it's been left empty for months. Ambulance was dispatched after the 119 call, but with the progress of rigor mortis, they estimate time of death to have been as long as eight hours ago.” Daehyun pushed open the door for them both and lead Himchan towards the elevator and pressed the call button. The doors opened straight away, and they stepped in.

“Cause of death?”

“Can't seem to see any yet. No blood, no mess, nothing, not even any sign of a struggle. We'll probably have to wait for forensics to get here before we figure out more.” Daehyun pursed his lips with brows furrowed. It amused Himchan sometimes, the way Daehyun always looked years older when he was in the thick of it than he was when sitting behind his desk.

“Was there any sign of... Y'know.” Himchan winced at the sound of his own words.

“No sign of assault, no.” Daehyun released a breath, Himchan nodded once, “But we won't know for sure until swabs come back.”

They watched in silence as a flickering light illuminated each floor number, until a ding sounded to signify they had reached level five, and the doors slid open.

“There's something else.” Daehyun said with a frown, “Her fingerprints were burnt off.”

Himchan raised an eyebrow, “Don't want us to know who she is, then.”

“Apparently not.” Daehyun replied, then took a long sip of his coffee. They rounded a corner and came to a halt before a white door, Number 54, left hanging open. An officer stood stationed beside it and Daehyun paused to pull plastic caps from his pocket to cover the tread of their boots so as not to contaminate the crime scene.

“Gloves?” He asked, digging into his pocket once their shoes were covered.

“I've got some.” Himchan in a deep breath through his nose, and held onto it for ten seconds before releasing it through his mouth. Even after four years in the unit, seeing a body had never become any easier.

“She's through here.” Daehyun said, gesturing right and down the hall as they crossed over and into the apartment. They passed an empty living room, the glass doors that lead out and onto the small verandah had been smashed, apparently some time ago, Himchan guessed from the light dusting of snow that had blown in, and the dry and dead leaves scattered across the carpeted floor. The kitchen was falling apart and paint had been left to peel from the walls beside the old and broken fridge, and the whole way down the hall to where yellow and black crime scene tape was stretched across a door. Himchan ducked underneath it and stepped in first.

The carpet was stained with old marks where water had pooled sometime before, and an old picture frame lay smashed in the corner. There was no furniture or decoration, only a ripped and yellowing white curtain billowing in the wind from a window left open. The room was empty.

“Daehyun, where is she?” Himchan asked, turning back to his partner as he followed him into the room.

Daehyun's eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open, “... .”