“Yah, rookie!”

Turning, you saw another man, leaning forward on his chair, intense eyes fixed on you.  Large, well-shaped eyes, a gracefully sculpted nose, and the kind of jawline that you only usually saw in museum exhibits, he would have been handsome had it now been for the dark glower that made you want to take two steps back.  Straightening your spine instead, you let your smile cool.  “And you are?”

“Do Kyungsoosshi, or Detective Do to you.”  With a little scoff, he looked around at the others, before standing and sauntering over.  “In case you people have forgotten, this is work--work!--not high school, and the people of our nation are counting on us.  If you guys want to flirt, do it on your own time--not the taxpayer’s.”

“Come on, Kyungsoosshi, we were just being friendly,” Sergeant Zhang protested.  

“Yeah, not everything is so black and white,” Baekhyun added.  “See, this is why I annoy you, you have to learn to loosen up--live a little!”

Detective Do opened his mouth again--probably to say something scathing, when you interrupted, unwilling to deal with the awkwardness of standing by while your two new coworkers argued.  “Sargeant Zhang?  Why don’t you...fill me in on the details of your current case?”

“Eager, I like it,” Sergeant Zhang said, smiling at you before heading toward a whiteboard covered in pictures and notes.  

“You didn’t read the file?” Detective Do scoffed.

“I did...Do sunbae,” you answered, smiling tightly, “But a good behaviourist knows that there is a reason that verbal communication is the preeminent method of gathering information.”

He glared, but before you could enjoy his discomfiture too much, Jongin spoke up. 

“This is getting a little tense.  I’m going to grab something to eat--does anyone want anything?  Sergeant Zhang?”

“No, thank you.”

“Detective Kim?”

Jongdae shook his head.  

“Do sunb--”

“I’ll have a venti, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot, quad shot, no foam latte, with whip, 2 pumps of caramel, 1 packet sugar in the raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon.”

Stunned, you turned to Baekhyun, whose eyes sparkled as he looked at Jongin, but despite his ridiculous order, no one looked surprised so much as tired.

“Oh, and three of those little crumbly French cookie things.  I love those.”

Nodding longsufferingly, Jongin turned to leave.  “Aright, alright.  Anyone else?” he asked, looking at you and Detective Do.  

You smiled, shook your head, and Detective Do waved him on.  

“Okay,” Sergeant Zhang started, clapping his hands for attention.  “To review, The Daejeon Dancer, active for the last eight years, has been murdering women every six months since 2012, but recently escalated. He is probably a Korean male, approximately 170 to 180 centimetres.  40 to 50 kilograms, he’s of average build, but is unusually strong for his size. His victims are between the ages of 25 and 40, leading us to believe, given the nature of his crimes, that he is within the same age bracket.  

“He chooses slender women and starves them to death.  Post-mortem, he dislocates their hips, shoulders, and spines, dresses them in elaborate costumes, and affixes them to a homemade harness.  Filming always begins after this point, and the videos are all of him dancing with them for hours, after which he engages in ual relations with the bodies, returning to them for 3-5 days, until decomposition has moved from autolysis to bloat.

“He disposes of the bodies in the Gapcheon, always managing to avoid or disable all CCTVs, always at night, never leaving any witnesses.  Because of the heavy flow of the river, we’ve never been able to pinpoint the drop off location, and by the time we are able to retrieve the bodies, all DNA has been washed away.  Within the past year, he has escalated from every six months to every three months, and two weeks ago, another woman who fits the profile went missing.  Now that we’re all on the same page with the facts, what are your thoughts on his profile?”

Inhaling deeply, and holding your breath, you thought for a moment.   “The unsub is an emasculated alpha male with an obsessive need for control that is demonstrated in his daily behaviour, and we can infer from the repetition of details at the crime scenes, that his ritual is essential for emotional and psychological catharsis--he doesn’t do this for pleasure so much as relief, and this relief comes from both staging a scene, and participating in it.  The fact that he records and distributes part of his process demonstrates that the whole point of the whole ritual is the performance.   

“Despite the fact that he is attractive enough to gain his victim’s trust in a relatively short amount of time, he is probably a loner, but also probably has a steady, middle-class job, in some sort of position of power.  Highly educated, he comes from money, and though he lives alone, he probably owns a hideaway somewhere on the outskirts of town where he takes the victims--somewhere remote, where his comings and goings won’t be observed.  Despite his escalation, the detail and precision with which he carries out his crimes tells us that he is an organized killer, careful--sociopathic as opposed to psychotic.  He follows the rules, has good hygiene, a higher than average IQ, and--most importantly--no criminal record.  Aside from what he sends to the police, this type of unsub will not have injected himself into the investigation; nor will he even be following the investigation closely.  He doesn’t care about our reaction to his behaviour so much as the idea that he is the one who holds all the power.”

“Very nice,” Detective Do said drily.  “Now, what are we supposed to do with all that?”

Looking around, you raised an eyebrow.  “Where’s your IT nerd?”

“Did someone call for a computer genius--please tell me it was the hot new hoobae.”   A tall, statuesque woman about Jongin’s height, in black trousers held up by a black leather belt, and a black vest and tie over a black button down, strode forward, hand out to shake your own.  Her long hair was scraped into a high ponytail, her cat’s eye was sharp enough to leave lacerations, and was a shade of scarlet that you just had to own.  

A bit taken aback, you offered your hand, nonetheless, noting the sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms and the clean, short nails shining with clear polish.

“Hello!  Lee Chungah, at your service, and I have to ask,” she started, taking a step back, but still holding your hand, as she looked you up and down, “who are you, and where have you been hiding?”

Chuckling, you shook her hand, and introduced yourself, before giving her a rundown of the markers that she should be looking for, pulling a file out of her briefcase and handing it over.  “Can you find him for me, unnie?”

“For you, doll,” she winked, “Unnie can do anything.”

Detective Kim and Baekhyun’s eyes followed her as she sauntered back out of the room, and you tried to suppress a chuckle.

Detective Do just did what he apparently did best, and glowered.

“What?” Detective Kim asked, catching the tail end of your expression.

“Sorry, Kim Sunbae,” you said.  “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

***

Days later you were at your desk after hours, adding details to your profile of another local serial killer--the Ophelia Strangler.  This one broke into his victim’s houses before kidnapping and transporting  them to where he strangled them, exsanguinated them, and then proceeded to have ual relations with their bodies, post-mortem.  Positioning the bodies just before rigor, he would put a bouquet of flowers in their hands, resting the clasped hands across their chests, before disposing of the bodies in the Gapcheon.  

Suddenly, you felt warmth against your back, before Detective Kim leaned over, one hand on your desk, and the other gripping the back of your chair.  “What are you still doing here?” he murmured, peering at your screen.

“Yah, rookie!” Detective Do called, throwing a wadded up piece of paper at you, causing Jongdae to move away or risk getting hit.  “Go get me some coffee.”

“I’m off the clock,” you growled, snapping your laptop shut, so that you could glare at him properly for the interruption.  

“Yeah, and I’m not--I’m working hard, actually earning our taxpayer’s money, so since you have so much free time on your hands, you can spend a little of it in service to the nation.”

Jongin emerged from the back just then, pulling on his jacket, and heading for the exit.

“Jonginsshi!”

The young man froze, a flash of irritation briefly marring his handsome features.  “Yes, Do sunbae?”

“Rookie here is going to go get me some coffee.  Why don’t you go with her, make sure that she doesn’t get herself kidnapped.”

“I was actually going home for the day--”

“Oh, so you’re off, too?  Excellent, then neither of you will be wasting our nation’s hard earned dollars while you go grab me something to help me ensure that some actual work gets done tonight.”

“You act like we don’t have coffee here at the office,” Detective Kim drawled, perching on the edge of your desk.

“If I wanted to drink piss, then I’d go to your mother’s house,” Detective Do snapped.  

Detective Kim’s face turned scarlet, but before he could say anything, Baekhyun bustled in from where he had been examining a crime scene, catching Detective Do’s last words.  “Yah, I can’t believe that you’re having this conversation without me!  Give me a few moments to change, and we can discuss the joys of watersports properly!”

“I have to go get coffee,” you muttered, quickly grabbing your jacket and heading for the door.  

“Right behind you,” Jongin called, hustling to the door almost as quickly as you.  

When you returned with Detective Do’s coffee--venti Americano, with nothing weird in it, his text had read--you handed it off to him with a bullish expression.  

Without even a thank you, he took a sip, and then raised his eyebrows, looked up at you.  “It’s not hot.”

“Sorry, must have cooled down on the walk over.  You know, you could have had it hot if you had gone yourself.”

“Would you please take care of it?” he asked, gesturing to you with the cup.

“What do you want me to do, Do sunbae… Sit on it?”

You heard a small snicker from one of the officers behind you, but ignored it.

“I would appreciate it if you would warm it in the microwave, please,” Detective Do said, with annoying calmness.  

“Are your legs broken?”

“Are you always so recalcitrant?”  He said it softly, but his eyes, heated and intense, bore into your own.

“Kyungsoosshi.”  Sergeant Zhang emerged from a nearby conference room, flipping through a file.  “Do you still have the investigation notes from the Grey Ghost case?”

“Right here, Sergeant,” Kyungsoo said, reaching into a side drawer without removing his eyes from yours.

“What are you still doing here,” Sergeant Zhang said mildly, looking up to see you glaring down at Detective Do.  “Shouldn’t you have been long gone by now?”

“I was just leaving,” you said, looking Detective Do up and down before smiling and Sargeant Zhang and turning to leave.”

You couldn’t be absolutely certain, but just before you were out of earshot, you could have almost sworn that you heard Detective Do mutter something under his breath.

Something that sounded a lot like, “Brat.”

***

The cursor on your laptop blinked expectantly at you as you stared at your investigation notes, mindlessly scrolling through pictures of hauntingly familiar victims.  The sudden, insistent screeching whistle of your teakettle broke you from your reverie, and you leapt up to move it from the stove before your crabby neighbour started beating on the wall.  Again.

The unsub is an emasculated alpha male with an obsessive need for control that is demonstrated in his daily behaviour…

Staring into space, you poured water over your tea strainer full of gamip cha, 99% of your mind thinking about the case, as 1% considered sugar, but rejected it for honey.  Need for control demonstrated in daily behaviour.  You scoffed.  If that wasn’t every single person in the precinct....

Despite the fact that he is attractive enough to gain his victim’s trust in a relatively short amount of time, he is probably a loner…

That was even harder.  Hard to tell whether someone’s a loner when you work with them every day, and if they don’t have friends to question, in today’s compartmentalized society, then how to make that determination?  Wandering back into your living room, you thoughtfully stirred your tea, gaze unfocused.  Unless… Unless…  You followed them after hours...

...steady, middle-class job, in some sort of position of power.  Highly educated...  

That was easier.  You just had to get access to their files.  Your mind flashed to the once-over Lee Chungah had given you upon your introduction.  

File access sorted.  

Lying back on the floor, you stared at the spiderweb-thin cracks in the ceiling, letting your mind wander.

....the detail and precision with which he carries out his crimes tells us that he is an organized killer, careful--sociopathic as opposed to psychotic.  He follows the rules, has good hygiene, a higher than average IQ, and--most importantly--no criminal record…

...injected himself into the investigation...following the investigation closely... 

...he is the one who holds all the power.

***

“Tell me you love me,” Chungah demanded, grabbing the back of your chair and rolling you around before slamming it lightly against your desk, and leaning over you.  

At a loss you blinked a few times before repeating, “I love you?”

“You’re gosh-darn right you do.  Check your email--I sent you a file of men who fit our unsub’s description--got it narrowed down to five.”

You blinked again, this time in surprise.  “Five?!  You’re incredible!”

“Thanks, doll.  I get that a lot,” she beamed, looking down at you with a wink.

“Chungah, the rookie has no time for your creepy lesbian weirdness during work hours,” Kyungsoo called, eyes never leaving his computer as he typed.  

Chungah merely smiled beatifically before straightening and taking a step back.  “Good point.  But,” she added, grinning mischievously down at you, “if you ever want to give me the time after hours--”

Suddenly noticing a slowly encroaching head, you jumped, scooching to the side, and turning to see a beaming Baekhyun sidling even closer in his rolling chair, his eyes bright as he peered over his glasses, his head swiveling between the two of you.  “No, please, go on,” he said, waving a hand.  “This is just…” he wiped away a fake tear, “something that I’ve always hoped to witness, but never dared dream that one day, would come true.  I’m just so grateful…”

Planting two fingers against his forehead, you slowly pushed him back in the direction of his desk.  “Byun sunbae.  Why are you like this?”

“That’s something that we have been wondering since the day that he was hired,” Chungha scoffed, crossing her arms, and narrowing her eyes at the beaming man.

“But enough about me,” Baekhyun said, lowering his eyes modestly, before looking back and forth between you and Chungah, “more about the two of you, and...afterhours…” he said hopefully.

“Baekhyun hyung, are you being yourself again?” Jongin mildly reproved as he came in, balancing a few boxes of doughnuts, and plopping them down on a nearby table.  Officers swarmed the sweets as he perched on Byun sunbae’s desk.  “We’ve talked about that.  You risk coming off like a ert.”

“Some things are worth risking it all,” Baekhyun said dreamily.  

“Well, this interlude has been fun,” you began, “but I should start looking into these suspects.”

“Brat,” Chungah muttered playfully, smiling as she gave you a little two- salute and headed back to her office.

“I can’t believe you guys have suspects already,” Baekhyun said around a mouth of jelly doughnut, a bit of jelly plopping out of his mouth on the plosive “p” of suspects.

“I can’t believe a lot of things about this place,” Detective Do muttered, slowly stretching his neck first from one side, to the other.

“Come on, Kyungsoosshi--are you telling me that you wouldn’t want to see that?” Byun sunbae said loudly, choking a little on the last bit, and leaning over to snatch the half-drunk soda that you had sitting on your desk.

“No,” Detective Do answered drily, not looking up from the report he was typing.  “I can honestly say that that is the last thing I want to see.”

Face heating, you pressed your lips together to control your reaction.  

“As much as I’d love to stay and watch Do sunbae being--at this point characteristically grumpy to the hoobae--spatter calls,” Jongin said flippantly, grabbing the last doughnut left by the locusts in blue--a plain unglazed vanilla cake--before heading to the back.

“You know,” Baekhyun said thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at Jonginsshi’s retreating back, “He could be doing anything back there, and none of us would ever know.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked.  

Baekhyun leaned forward conspiratorially, “I mean, think about it.  A healthy man alone, young, no girlfriend, working long hours in a remote room in an office with a lock, no traffic, and little to no oversight...there’s no way that he’s not watching adult videos for the majority of the day.”  Leaning back in his chair, he gestured proudly with the last bite of his doughnut, as if having made some great discovery, before popping it in his mouth, and chewing loudly.  

Looking up, Detective Do’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, you silently commiserated. 

***

The walk from the parking garage to your building was never fun, but was especially unsettling after a day full of investigating violent crimes, especially considering the fact that you had felt like eyes had been on you the entire drive home.  Paranoia was a byword of your profession, and now, in a new place, in a new city, without the comfort of familiarity, you were constantly on guard.  

It was exhausting.  

After waiting a few moments in your car, ears perked for any sound, you cautiously emerged, eyes scanning the parking garage for any incongruous shadows or movement.  Nothing.  Dead.  Quickly closing your door, you headed toward the elevator.  Despite your prior caution, it didn’t take long--a few seconds--for you to clock the footsteps behind you.  Tightening your jaw, you continued at the same pace, expanding your senses to catch as much information as you could.  

A glance in a van’s rearview mirror told you that it was a man behind you, young, slender, only a few inches taller than you, in a grey hoodie, camouflage pants, and black combat boots.  Unfortunately, that was all you were able to clock before you had passed that van, and had to wait until you came close to one of the mirrored CCTVs to try to catch a better look. Looking up, you rolled your eyes at your crappy luck--a grey basketball cap obscured his face, which tilted toward the ground.  

The elevator was within a few steps now, and you were unsure of what to do.  You couldn’t turn and confront him--so far he had done nothing suspicious--but did you want to be stuck on an elevator with him? Your choice was made for you, as you reached the elevator, with no opportune plan in mind.  Clicking the button, you waited, light, on the balls of your feet, preparing for anything as you listened to his approach.  The car came faster than you expected, the ding of its arrival making your heart jump, but you took the escape, climbing in quickly.

He quickened his approach, but kept his head down.

Discreetly, you pressed the door close button after pressing the button for your floor, hoping that he would be forced to try the other lift.  The doors started to close, and you inwardly sighed with relief.

A hand shot into the almost completely closed doors, making your heart lurch as they slowly opened.  The man climbed in, his back to you, and casually pressed the door closed button, before lowering his hand back to his side.  Seconds passed as the elevator ascended, and he made no move.

Relaxing slightly, you still pressed yourself against the wall, wanting to be that much farther from him.  Suddenly, the doors opened, and you realized that you were on your floor.  

He didn’t move.  

Should you get off?  Should you go to another floor?  You didn’t want to lead him directly to your home.  Then again, if he tried something, at least you would be within earshot of help, and the hallway was large enough that you felt confident that you could overpower him without worrying about hidden accomplices.

The doors started to close.

“Excuse me,” you murmured, sliding carefully past, and slipping through the doors.  

He moved to the side to let you by.

Exiting the elevator, you turned slightly to try to catch a glimpse of his face, just as he reached out to press the button for another floor.  Trying not to be obvious, you made a show of bending down to tie your shoelace.  Just before the doors closed, he looked up at the numbers above the doors, and your shoulders slumped in relief.  

He was a kid--tall for his age, but given the baby fat on his cheeks, clear skin, and soft jawline, he could only be twelve, or fourteen at the most.  Earbuds, previously hidden from your view, s from under his hoodie to rest in his ears.  As the doors closed completely, you had to stifle a laugh as you heard him begin to sing in a clear, bell-like soprano, “I scream, you scream.  Gimme that, gimme that ice cream.  I scream--”

Shaking your head at your own cowardice you stood and trudged toward your door.  “Good job.  Definitely a dangerous predator, there.”

***

“What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to the vase of flowers on your desk as you came in the next morning.  

“Looks like someone is being courted,” Baekhyun sing-songed, a strip of red licorice hanging out of the corner of  his mouth.

“Ugh,” you grumbled, watching him mercilessly tear into the licorice before grabbing another piece.  “How do you manage to eat constantly, and still look like that?”

Leaning back in his chair, he gave you a foxy grin.  “Some of us are just gifted with superior bodies.  Amazing metabolism, brilliant mind, perfect skin, good looks, manly strength, superior stamina--yah...did I save the country in a precious life?  How did I get so lucky?”

“So humble,” you muttered, sneering playfully.  

Blinking innocently, he shook his head.  “False humility is the same as lying.  If you’ve got it, flaunt it.  Besides, it’s not bragging if you can back it up.”  He waggled his eyebrows.  “I’ve never gotten any complaints.”  

“That’s because blow-up dolls don’t talk back,” Sergeant Zhang quipped as he walked by, heading toward his desk.  “Nice flowers.  Who’re they from?”

“Somebody’s got a secret admirer!” Baekyun said, not so subtly jerking his head toward Chungah’s office.  

The woman in question emerged just then, flipping through some files.  Glancing up as she walked by, she gave you a distracted smile before her eyes caught the flowers on the desk.  “Nice bouquet.  Who sent them?”

Shrugging easily, you picked through them, looking for a card.  “No idea; let’s see.”

“The wild lion stalks its prey,” Baekhyun stage whispered, making creepy-crawly fingers in Sargeant Zhang’s general direction, who just gave him an eye roll before returning to work.

“No card,” you said, frowning.  “Unnie, what kind of flowers are these?  I’m terrible at this sort of thing.”

“No idea,” Chungah said with an easy shrug.  “Well, they’re pretty anyway.  Like a sunrise.”  With that, she continued on her way, leaving you with a bright-eyed, grinning Baekhyun.

Taking out your phone, you took a picture, and texted your sister.  

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asked, peering over your shoulder.

“My sister is a florist--I’m going to send her a picture so that she can tell me what’s in the bouquet.”

“Pink camellias, and red carnations, the big white ones are daffodils, the little ones on sticks are forsythia, and the peachy ones are coral moss rosebuds.”  Detective Kim walked in, his eyes consideringly on your bouquet.  Bending to peer closer, he poked at a rosebud.  “Huh.  Thornless.  Must have been a high-end florist.”

You stared.

Baekhyun stared.

The water machine stared.

“What?” Detective Kim asked, straightening.  “What?!”, he repeated, looking around.  “I work long hours, and I miss a lot of events--I’ve had to give a lot of ‘sorry’ bouquets over the years.”

“Ohhh, Detective Kim, I never knew that you were such a player,” you teased.

“Well, you know,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair, “I’m a nice guy.  I’m not going to keep all this from the ladies.  That would be cruel and unusual.”

“It’s a war crime, practically,” Sargeant Zhang murmured under his breath.

“I heard that!” Detective Kim called.

Shrugging, Sergeant Zhang raised his eyebrows.  “I meant for you, to.”

“Well, whomever gave it to me, it’s pretty, so thank you,” you said to the room in general, bowing in a few different directions.  Sliding in your seat, you booted up your computer, but when you tried to sign in, the cursor didn’t respond.  You tried to click inside and outside of the text box, but...nothing.  Looking down, you turned your mouse upside down, only to see that the battery light was red instead of its customary blue.  Sighing, you gutted both your mouse and keyboard of batteries and stood.  “I’m heading to the supply closet for batteries, does anyone need anything?”

“I could use another notepad,” Sergeant Zhang said, looking at his desk.  

“Anyone else?” you asked.

“Uh, could you get me some pens?” Baekhyun asked, pouting charmingly.

“Sure.”  When no one else responded, you headed toward the storage room.  Once inside, you opened the industrial metal utility cabinets, finding the pens and notepads in the first one, but the box of batteries was nowhere to be seen.  Backing up a bit, you looked around--on shelves, in open boxes on the floor--nothing.  Taking a moment to think, you looked up, and spotted the box sitting on top of the utility cabinet.  “Darn Kim Jongin,” you swore.  The tallest one in your department--aside from Chungha--he had a habit of mindlessly replacing things where only he could reach them.  Standing on tiptoe, you reached, stretching, and even jumping a bit, but your fingertips could only...just...reach…

A large hand passed over yours, easily grabbing the box and pulling it down.  

Registering warmth on your back, you turned, only to be flattened against the utility cabinet by none other than Detective Do.  Looking up at him, you willed your pounding heart to slow as the heat from his body seeped into yours.  

“You looked like you needed help,” he murmured, his face unreadable as he looked down at you--for all intents and purposes--trapped between his firm body and the utility cabinet.  

Swallowing hard, you forced a tremulous smile to your mouth.  “Thank you...Detective Do.  I--”

Whatever you were was lost as the door creaked open, Detective Do took a step back, and Baekhyun poked his head in.  “Hey, guys, pony up--we’re being called out to a scene.”  A moment passed as he eyed the both of you oddly.  “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Detective Do said, turning and walking past his coworker.  “We can take my car.”

“We’ll take my car,” Baekhyun contradicted, giving Detective Do a level look.  

The detective paused, but then tilted his head in acknowledgement.  “I’ll be waiting.”  

As soon as he left, Baekhyun turned back to you, his expression indecipherable.  “You alright?”  

“Of course,” you said, smiling.  “Here are your pens.”  Patting him on the chest, you walked by, eager to be out of the enclosed space.  “Let’s go, Byun sunbae.  I call shotgun.”

***

Climbing out of Baekhyun’s car, tying up your hair, you surveyed the scene--a cramped, dirty alley behind a Lotteria.  Walking to where officers hovered, keeping the public back from the scene, you accepted a pair of shoe covers before ducking under the tape.  A well-manicured hand with medium length nails hung lifelessly out of the dumpster.  “Talk to me,” you said, turning to the lead officer on the scene.  

“Our vic’s name is Kim Seolhwa, 24, a medical student at Daejeon University.  Upon initial examination, the cause of death appears to have been strangulation, but of course, we’ll need to get the green light from our forensic pathologist on that.  Rigor puts time of death at about ten hours ago.  She was found by the Lotteria employee who came to throw out the trash before opening for the day.”

“Before opening?” you queried.

“They’re short staffed--she had to work a closing shift last night before opening today, and said she was too scared to throw out the trash alone at night.”

“Smart girl,” you murmured, looking at the body.  “Did we get anything on CCTV?”

“No face, but what looks to be a muscular man in a suit, before the camera was damaged.”

“The body was moved, no useful spatter here,” a familiar voice said from nearby.  

Looking up, you saw Jongin, who was stripping off his gloves, and walking away with a look of disgust.  

“Still,” Baekhyun said mildly, giving his techs the go-ahead to start their work before coming forward, “though a dump location, as opposed to the murder scene, isn’t ideal, a lot can possibly be gleaned from the site.”

“Mm,” Jongin said noncommittally, before turning to the woman who had been giving you the details.  “I’m going back to the office.  Next time, don’t call me unless the scene is wet.”

“We did see blood, sunbae,” she protested, pointing to a slight trail leading towards the dumpster.

“Passive spatter, probably from the vic, post-mortem,” he said negligently.  “Or possibly from the unsub.  Still, except for DNA typing, it tells me nothing about what happened, except one of them bled a little on the way to the dumpster.”

“I’m on that,” Baekhyun said excitedly, crouching next to the spatter and opening his kit.

“What time does this Lotteria close?” you asked the officer.

“Midnight.”

“And what time does the CCTV show the unsub?”

“Around 1 AM.”

Nodding, you left to wander around a bit.  

“What are you thinking?” Sergeant Zhang asked, coming to flank you on one side, with Detective Do on the other.

“We need to get her back to the lab, do an autopsy.  With this being a dump site and not the murder scene, and with her positioning, it’s difficult to make any but the broadest inferences.”

Sergeant Zhang nodded.  “Well, as soon as Baekhyunsshi gives the clear, we’ll bring her back.

***

You stared at the crime scene photos of Kim Seolhwa, tilting your head as you thought.  

“Any insights?” Sergeant Zhang asked, coming from behind with a cup of coffee.

Accepting it, you nodded.  “The crew found a business card in her purse for a hostess club, which would explain why a med student is dressed like that on a Tuesday night.  Even so...the outfit is a bit…”

“Childish,” he supplied.  “But ualized.”

“Exactly,” you agreed absentmindedly.  “Apparently, she had no school debt, even though her family isn’t particularly well off.  This could be how she was paying her way through med school, in which case, the murderer could very well have been a client.”  Your phone buzzed with a text at the same time as his.

“It’s the ME,” he said, starting for the front.  “Are you coming, or do you need more time with the pictures?”

“I've seen all I need to see here, at the moment,” you said, following him to the basement.

The ME’s office was always cold, which didn’t bother you, but the smell did.  Some officers covered their nostrils in mentholated ointment, but to you, it just transformed the smell from dead body to slightly spicy dead body.

“What have we got?” Sargeant Zhang asked the doctor.

“Nothing unexpected,” she started, crossing her arms, and staring at the body.  “A healthy young woman whose cause of death was, in fact, strangulation.  Body temp puts the murder around 11 PM.  We found trauma to her esophagus and l canal, along with , but, unfortunately, there’s no DNA.”

“How is that possible?” you asked.

Sergeant Zhang groaned.  “The unsub may have had a vasectomy.”

“Did you find anything else?  Hair, DNA under her nails, anything?”

“Unfortunately not, but ligature marks on her wrists indicate that she was tied up, so--”

Sergeant Zhang’s phone rang.  “Yes?  Really?  What kind of lead?”  A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face as he looked at you, tapping you on the arm, and indicating that you should follow him, while waving to the ME.  

“What happened?”

“Officers canvassing the area found a witness--a harabeoji who was out on a beer run--who remembers seeing a harried looking man in a suit around the time that our vic would have been dumped.”

“Okay, well, that’s something, but it doesn’t explain why you look so pleased.”

“The harabeoji has a photographic memory from being some sort of math champion decades ago, or something.  He memorized the guy’s license plate.”

***

A few days later, arms crossed, you stared at the suspect through the two-way mirror.  The whole team was there, quietly discussing the details of the case, and the information that Chungha had found during his background check.  

The suspect--Choi Seunghyun--was on the executive board of the local Samsung branch, despite only being in his mid thirties.  He had graduated from Seoul National University--to which he had earned a full ride--with a masters in Business Management and Administration, but his life leading up to that hadn’t been easy.  Living just above the poverty line with an abusive father and an abused, passive mother--aside from school--he had every semblance of control taken away.  

According to witnesses, and reports from Child Welfare Services, he hadn’t been allowed to have friends, or participate in school activities, and the rumour growing up was that his bedroom didn’t even have a door.  He was told what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, when to wake up, when to go to sleep--the list of rules had been asive, and never ending.

Sergeant Zhang approached, catching your attention and nodding his head toward the man inside.  “I’m going to let you take point on this one.  How do you want to play it?”

Silent for a moment, you watched as the suspect sat at ease in the uncompromising metal chair of the interrogation room.  He had been asked to the station to answer questions about Kim Seolhwasshi, whom he already admitted knowing, as a frequenter of her hostess club.  He hadn’t lawyered up, and you didn’t want him to, but you wondered how far you could push him.  “His hair is perfectly coiffed, and his clothes are impeccable, but look at his eyes, his skin.  He hasn’t slept in days.”

You sighed, thinking.  “Your first murder is difficult.  It takes a lot out of you.  We have an already emotionally damaged guy with sub-par coping mechanisms…  I believe that, during his session with the vic, something happened to destroy the fantasy.  Broke him out of the little world that he was trying so desperately to create...  This isn’t a hardened killer--his cracks are already showing.  His coworkers said that he has been especially particular for the past few days.  I think that he’s trying to reestablish a feeling of control.  All it would take...is a little...”  Abruptly, you turned.  “I need Baekhyun sunbae.”  The soft murmuring behind you went silent.  

After a few seconds of surprise, Baekhyun walked forward, ostensibly trying to hide a self-satisfied grin.  “Ahahaha.  I’m used to beautiful women telling me that they need me, but here, now?  In front of our coworkers?  Oh, nevermind them--here,” he opened his arms and beckoned, “bring it on in.  I’ll give you love.”

Sighing deeply, you plucked him on the forehead before pulling your hair out of its ponytail, and ruffling it a bit.  “Now, listen carefully…”

A few minutes later, Baekhyun opened the door to the interrogation room slightly, keeping his voice low as he argued with you.  “We’ve already discussed this, jagiya--I pulled strings to get you here, and if you don’t start at least look like you’re trying to do some work, then it’s my neck on the chopping block.”

“I am trying, Oppa,” you whined softly, “but I don’t even understand why I have to keep working.  You told me that you were going to take care of me!  You promised!  You said that we were fated to be together!”

“And I will take care of you, agi, but you just have to be patient.  Just one more promotion, and you can stay home all nice and pretty for me, okay?”

“You’ve been saying that,” you murmured, pouting, gently pressing your knuckles into his chest.

“I know, agi.  Oppa’s sorry.”  Baekhyun leaned forward, nuzzling your temple softly.

“I know,” you whispered, looking down and sighing.

“Just go in there and do your best, okay?  Oppa will buy you something pretty after we get off, alright?”

“Okay…”

Opening the door further, Baekhyun let you inside, giving Choi Seunghyunsshi a cold look, before softly closing the door.

Smiling softly, you walked to the seat across from the suspect and plopped down, carelessly throwing a file on the table.  “Hi,” you greeted brightly, before realization seemed to hit you and you stood up to bow, and introduce yourself before sitting again, opening the file and peering into it.  “Okay, so, what’s your name?”

The man before you was handsome, polished, his hair carefully sculpted back from his flawless features.  A slight smile touched his mouth as he regarded you.  “Choi Seunghyun,” he drawled, his voice deep, almost rumbling.

Leaning your chin on your hand, you looked at him.  “Where were you, like, on the night in question?”

Lacing his elegant fingers over his flat stomach, he leaned even further back in his chair, spreading his legs slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.  “At home.  In my bed.”

“Do you have anyone who can verify that?  You know, like, an alibi?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure, at the moment,” he answered with apparent regret.  “The life of a top executive is lonely.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you let your eyes wander.  Several moments passed.  

“Did you...have any more questions?” he asked gently.  

Turning back to him, you smiled spontaneously.  “Ye-es.”  Another moment passed.  “Did you...know…”  You let the sentence trail before surreptitiously peeking back at the file.  “Kim Seolhwa?”

A microfine tremor passed across his face and he blinked, looking away for a moment before his eyes cut back to you, a sincere look of chagrin taking the place of the former smile.  “I do.  She’s a hostess at a club that I frequent.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

His shrug was elegant.  “A number of days ago?  Unfortunately, the format of the hostess club is such that one doesn’t make deep connections.”

“Then...why do you go?”

He smiled wistfully.  “It helps with the...loneliness.”

“Why don’t you just...get a girlfriend?  You’re handsome.”

Chuckling, he looked down, scratching his eyebrow.  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, so why don’t you?”

“I guess that I just...haven’t found...the right one.”

“Oh.  Well.  You’ll meet her.  Handsome, comfortable, and your voice is amazing!  I’d bet money on it.”

“Would you, now?”  Amusement glinted in his eyes.

“I would!”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have eyes!”  Chuckling, you felt your face heat, and looked down, tapping the table to a beat in your head.  Feeling your blush starting to calm, you looked back at him.  “So, what else do you like to do?  Besides work, I mean.”

His eyes glimmered.  “Well, admittedly, work takes up most of my time, but when I’m not working...or spending time in the company of a beautiful young lady, I like driving.  I’m a car man--the first thing I did the moment my income rose over a hundred million won, was to buy a Mercedes.”

Nodding, you twirled your pen.  “That sounds like a great investment.  I hear that they’re really good cars.”

“You like cars?”

“Well...not really…  I mean, I know that they’re good, and Bentley’s, and whatever else, but I don’t really like to drive much.  Oppa does that for me, mostly.”

Seunghyun’s hand twitched.  Clearing his throat, he fixed you with an easy smile.  “Your oppa takes care of you?”

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