Traitor.

Backstabber.

Disloyal.

Hypocrite.

Myungsoo stared at the unclothed canvas of Kim Hwayoung's backside. On it, a litter of words was carved into the skin, standing out sharply against the expansion of pale flesh... No, they weren't just words. They were anger, fury, and hatred, pure unadulterated pain represented in the form of heavy lines. That, along with the other jagged wounds on the corpse, made it obvious that the Mockingbird hadn't been particularly gentle with this victim.

A gloved hand reached out to touch the scars. Myungsoo looked up to see Jeon Hyosung, the senior pathologist of the Yangsan station, shaking her head.

"Horrible, isn't it?" she asked disapprovingly, ghosting her finger along the lines of Hypocrite. "The terrors a man is willing to inflict on others is something that will always amaze me. You can't imagine how shocked I was when I first uncovered her back."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Myungsoo grimaced. He gave a sideways glance to his new partners, who were both looking at the body with an expression of pity (Daehyun more so than Ailee). "Do you have any clue as to why these words are here?" 

"None whatsoever," Ailee briskly said. "There's nothing of special interest in Kim Hwayoung's profile. A sixty-two year old woman living by herself... With her husband deceased from a car accident and her two children living abroad, she was what you'd call a regular law-abiding citizen."

"Everyone we talked to only had words of praise about her," added Daehyun. "Her friends, her neighbours, her co-workers at the retirement home; they all said pretty much the same thing. A lovely woman, kind, pleasant, more agreeable than you could ever know. Not exactly the type of person a killer would want to target, much less write such accusatory words on her skin."

Hyosung's lips twisted into a puzzled frown. "That's what confuses me the most. Why  did the killer leave these words behind? 'Traitor, backstabber, disloyal, hypocrite.' I was informed a little about your case. From my understanding, she's the only one who was left in this state, correct? None of the other victims were found like this."

"You're right." Myungsoo remembered how Sunggyu had pulled him aside to give him this information. This had been the 'other important matter' the branch leader had wanted to talk to him about, only to be interrupted by the news of Bang Yongguk's death.

"Myungsoo, when you get to Yangsan, I want you to pay particular attention to Kim Hwayoung's case." Sunggyu pushed a folder into Myungsoo's hands. His face looked both tired and strained, which was understandable considering everything that was happening in the station. It was a wonder he was managing to keep things going at all.

The raven-haired man accepted the gift. "Don't worry, Sunggyu. I think her case is the only thing I'll be able to focus on anyway, seeing as I'll be all the way over there." He offered a weak smile along with his words, but there was no joy or amusement behind it at all.

The branch director shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I mean, I need you to concentrate especially hard when you investigate her death. We have reason to believe the Mockingbird may have a stronger connection to her than he does with the other victims."

Myungsoo stared at him. "What makes you think that?"

Sunggyu nodded at the folder. "Open it. Take a look at the photo inside."

Feeling an odd combination of bemusement and dread, Myungsoo did as he was told. It was quickly replaced by shock and repulsion as he laid eyes on the enlarged photograph.

What...

"That was how the forensic team found Kim Hwayoung's body when they examined her backside," Sunggyu answered the agent's unasked question. "Do you notice the intensity of the hatred coming from the words? 'Traitor. Hypocrite. Disloyal.' I don't know about you, but it seems to me as if the killer knew this woman well. Very well, judging by the strength of his reaction."

"..." Myungsoo continued to stare at the horrific picture. "So this is what you meant by pay particular attention to her? It looks to me that this could be a hidden skeleton coming out of her closet. If we could find out what role the killer had in her past..."

"Yes." Sunggyu closed his eyes. The fluorescent lighting of the room highlighted the stress lines on his face. They, along with the dark bags under his eyes, made him look at least ten years older than he really was, haggard, exhausted, and in desperate need of a break.

"This is a rare chance for us, Myungsoo. Don't let it slip away. Uncover her past and find the key to this puzzle. It's time we put the Mockingbird behind bars once and for all."

Hyosung sighed. "Horrible," she repeated, pulling off her gloves. Her shoulder-length curls flounced as she headed towards the trash can. "I've never seen a case this bad in my seventeen years of working here."

"Makes you glad you're not assigned to the Seoul force, huh?" Daehyun joked, attempting to bring some humour into the sombre atmosphere.

Tossing her gloves into the can, the pathologist laughed. "You can say that again." She proceeded to walk over to the counter, which was covered with paper, disinfectant, cotton swabs, and medical equipment. 

"Here, Myungsoo." Hyosung grabbed a file on top of the papers, and gave it to the visiting inspector. "This is a copy of Kim Hwayoung's post-mortem report. I don't know how much Ailee and Daehyun have told you about it, but it's not a pleasant read. Would you like me to explain it to you?"

"No, there's no need," Myungsoo declined. "I got the details back in Seoul."

"Alright," Hyosung responded, flashing a friendly smile. "Just let me know if you have any questions. And welcome to Yangsan, by the way. I didn't get a chance to say that earlier. You might feel out of place for a while, because of the station differences, but you'll get used to it. We have a good team here."

"Thank you." Myungsoo didn't add that Yangsan was, actually, his hometown. "I'm only here for a few days, but I look forward to working with you all." As he tucked the autopsy report under his arm, the dark-haired male felt a sudden vibration coming from his pocket. He quickly excused himself from his three companions and pulled out his phone, half anticipating and half dreading the news awaiting him. What would it be this time? Another death? Another lead? Perhaps something about a certain missing newcomer...?

He stared at the glowing screen of his cellphone. 

To: Myungsoo.
From: Woohyun.
Sent: 2:08 PM, Nov 25.

Still no sign of him.

-----------

Hurts. It hurts. Every fibre of his being seemed to yell out at him. It was like his body was sending a message to his mind, voiced by an overwhelming mixture of screams and cries and moans and pleas.

Hurts. Everything hurts.

And hurt, everything did. His throat was dry. Parched. He hadn't had anything to drink for over 30 hours. His ribs felt bruised. Broken. Every time he tried to take a breath, he felt a painful rattling shake his rib cage. And he was certain that his skin was covered in cuts and bruises, as well. There was barely any light in the room he was in- the only source of luminescence was the moonlight shining through the window, and even that wasn't much help- but if he were able to see himself at that moment, he was sure he would have been a human canvas of red and black. Red for blood. Black for broken skin.

A part of him wanted to scoff at the irony. I never did like those colours much...

And yet, despite the obvious desperation of the message, his mind refused to acknowledge it. Pain is something you can ignore, it snarled in response, and put the receiver on hold. It shielded itself from the agony his body was suffering, away from the pain that pushed, prodded, and begged to take over. But he was grateful for it. That was what he needed to do: fight the pain, ignore the aches, and focus on staying conscious-

"Heh. You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"

A figure stepped closer to him. He blended in with the shadows of the room, moving fluidly within the opaque darkness.

 "Don't tell me you're tired already, Yeollie?" he crooned. "Come now, try to stay awake. It's no fun if you fall asleep on me."

Lee Sungyeol fought the wave of disgust that the voice brought over him. The urge to thrash about in the chair he was tied to tempted him. It promised freedom, promised a chance to fight back. Yet, he resisted. He forced himself instead to stay still and keep the apathetic look on his face.

"You and I don't have the same definition of fun," Sungyeol said hoarsely. As expected, his throat burned from the act of speaking- it felt as if a hundred iron knives were scraping the inside of his vocal tube.

The figure snickered. It was a high-pitched, delighted laugh, similar to how a child might sound on the morning of Christmas. "Oh, I know that. You always did hate the games we used to play together... How long has it been, I wonder? Twelve years? Thirteen?"

Sungyeol remained silent.

The shadowed man continued. "It's thirteen, I think," he said, disregarding his captive's lack of answer. A note of nostalgia entered his voice, making Sungyeol feel even more repulsed than before. "Imagine that, Yeollie. Thirteen years. Thirteen years have passed since we saw each other. It's been too long."

"Not long enough," the agent muttered. "I would have been fine with never seeing you in my life again." Subconsciously, he pressed his wrists against the handcuffs binding him to the chair. The cold metal bit into his skin. It created new bruises, but refused to yield to his strength. The message was clear: He would not be able to escape on his own terms.

"You're still the same as ever. I'm glad to see you haven't changed much." The man began to circle him. At this range, Sungyeol was able to make out some of his features- the round, hungry eyes, the pale, almost translucent complexion, and the lips that were constantly curved into a wicked smile. For a moment, he was looking directly into the face of that man, the one whom he promised never to let back into his life... Then, as quickly as it entered his field of vision, it was gone, covered by a mask of darkness once more.

I always knew you'd come back. We're bounded together, you and I. It was only a matter of time before you wavered and turned back to your past... Yeollie...

"But if I remember correctly," the man went on, coming to a stop behind the agent, "It was you  who came to me, wasn't it? You  were the one who decided to find me, and put an end to those thirteen years of no contact. But what for?

"I can't begin to describe how hurt I was, Yeol." There was a faint rustle of clothes as he leaned in closer. His warm breath washed over Sungyeol's cheek, smelling oddly of mint and grape candy. "It's been such a long time since we saw each other, yet the first thing you do is accuse me of being a serial killer. How could you? I thought you knew me better than that."

"You act like you're surprised," Sungyeol dryly commented, "But I  thought you  knew better, too. We both know how likely the possibility of you killing is."

"Well, yes," the figure admitted. He pulled away from his captive's backside. The cloyingly sweet breath was replaced by a thin, but sharpened object- a blade, perhaps? As the tip began to trace idly over his nape, Sungyeol could only tense and brace himself for what was to come.

"I won't deny it; I'm not the most innocent man in the world. I've done things most men would never dream of doing, and I plan to keep doing them until the day I'm forced to stop comes. But there's something else you should keep in mind, as well." His voice dropped down to a whisper. "I only kill with reason, Yeollie. I prefer to play with my food alive."

Suddenly, without any warning, the blade slashed against the side of Sungyeol's neck. The cold metal pierced his skin in a deft, nimble move, using just enough strength to make blood immediately drip from the wound. Gritting his teeth, the agent forced himself to keep quiet. He refused to react to the pain. There was absolutely no way he was going to give his captor that satisfaction. Let  him cut into his flesh. Let  him rip his body to shreds. It was already halfway to the point of destruction, anyways.

"How lovely." A finger reached out to touch the fresh cut, just barely smearing the trickle of red. "Your blood is always beautiful to see. Such a rich, deep, vibrant shade of scarlet... Heh, this takes me back to the good ol' days. It was just the two of us, remember? You and me against the world. Or maybe you've forgotten everything?"

Sungyeol clenched his jaw. "Enough with the nonsense. You've kept me here for almost two days now. Don't waste any more of my time and tell me, already: Are you or are you not the Mockingbird?"

"You mean the killer who's been in the news lately?" his companion asked with a false air of innocence. "You still think that it's me?  You're cruel, Yeollie. How could you accuse me in such a cold-hearted way? After everything I've done for you? After everything we've been through together?"

Removing his hand from Sungyeol's nape, he resumed his walk around the trapped man. This time, he paused when he was standing right in front of him, the moonlight highlighting the malicious gleam in his eyes.

"But I suppose I shouldn't be so shocked." The man casually examined the blade in his hands, running a finger along the bloodstained metal. "It's to be expected. Like I said, you haven't changed much. In fact, I'm more surprised it took you this long to find me in the first place. But what I want to know is, what made you decide I played a part in the murders? No, let me guess. You picked up a clue from poor Jiyong, didn't you? Did your police friends tip you off? You don't have to hide it from me. I know you're working for the CSI now. Congratulations, by the way. I didn't think you had it in you." His tone was light, airy, as if the two of them were having a pleasant chat over Sunday brunch. 

The image of his CSI badge, lying on top of his investigation notes at home, flashed in Sungyeol's mind. For a moment, he debated with himself- was it worth talking back and revealing the confidential information of the case? He decided to compromise by responding with only the necessary answers. Besides, he had a feeling that his captor already knew what he was going to say. "Yes. We found documents in Kwon Jiyong's laptop leading to the warehouse and ultimately, to you. It wasn't difficult. For a man who was involved in the trafficking business, he was hardly concerned with hiding his work properly."

The man sighed. "Oh, Jiyong... He was a good man, he really was. Always laughing and having a great time in life. It's a shame he died the way he did. But he was a liability. He was dragging me down. Don't tell anyone, but I'm actually grateful to the killer. If he hadn't taken out Jiyong, I would have found some other way to get rid of my incompetent partner. Which reminds me. I suddenly have a job opening available in my business. Are you interested?"

"Stop fooling around," Sungyeol hissed. "I didn't come here to have my time wasted by you. Just tell me whether or not you're the Mockingbird, and we can both go our separate ways."

"If you were listening, you would know," the man tutted. "And here I thought you were smarter than this. Do you need me to spell it out for you? No, Yeol, I am not the Mockingbird. I'm not the killer you're so desperately looking for. But I must say, he's an impressive man, whoever he is. Copying famous murders of the past, putting his own gruesome twist to them... Do me a favour, would you? If you ever get around to catching him, let him know how much I admire his work. If only I had thought of it before, maybe I could have that sort of fun."

"... Psychopath. You're a sadistic, twisted psychopath," the crime scene agent rasped.

"You've always known that about me," his assailant replied. A mixture of glee and malice entered his voice as he leaned towards the agent. Using his knife, he traced a cut on Sungyeol's chin, threatening to reopen the healing wound. "Anyways, you have your answer. I think we've talked about this for long enough. I need to go check up on work- my men are completely useless, they don't know how to complete the simplest of tasks- but I have enough time to play for a bit longer. Don't be shy, Yeollie. Let's have some more fun."

Sungyeol slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes locked with those of his captor, dark brown meeting a glittering black. The inspector made sure to keep the impassive expression on his face, but inside, all he felt was a burning flame of hatred. Hatred for his past, hatred for his situation... But most of all, hatred for the vile, erse man standing in front of him.

"You sick bastard, Park Kyung."

[A/N] It's been a while -3- I'm actually supposed to be working on my creative writing portfolio, but I decided to make a quick update instead (shh, don't tell my professor). I hope you guys are doing well! Thanks for sticking with this story, and I wish you all a scary, candy-filled Halloween ❤