The doorbell rings. She gets up from her chair slowly, gently pats her elaborately made up hair, sneaks one tiny glance in the mirror and walks to the door. Her hand rests on the knob. She opens slightly, enough to reveal her narrow, heavily powdered face and to pucker up her exquisitely painted lips. She pauses. She then gazes through her thick eyelashes at the man before her. She pouts once more, opening the door a little further. It is a carefully thought out, premeditated seduction. The man before her smiles amusedly. He enjoys this little game.

He calls out robustly, “Good evening, Mrs. Kim.”

       In reply, she snakes out one thin, bare arm of hers and clasps his. There is a strange fluidity in her motion. She stares at him for a few seconds with half-closed, smoky eyes. He looks back confidently. Her pout widens into a smirk. She lets the tip of her tongue slyly come forth and her bottom lip quietly. His eyes follow the quick progress of her tongue. His breath comes out in short puffs, otherwise he betrays no emotion.

“May I come in Mrs. Kim? I have a few designs you might like to see.” His voice is subconsciously raised; for the servants, of course. He tries to keep his voice level. He tries to keep calm. The snake-like arm pulls him in. He tumbles forth clumsily. He leans back on the wooden door and shuts it quickly.

          She sits unconcernedly on a low couch. Her legs are crossed, revealing all of her white, supple firmly toned thighs. She wears a low-necked, barely there, sheer negligee that reveals more than it covers. She leans forward. He tugs nervously at his collar. It is hardly his first time doing this. They have been at this for almost a month now. But he still feels the same nervousness, the same kind of excitement and the same arousal each time. He undoes his first few buttons. Experience has taught him that it is an absolute waste of time to wear a tie. His coat which earlier adorned his broad shoulders now sweeps the floor. He slowly advances.

***

          It goes in smoothly, just at the right spot. He loves this little lethal dagger. A sudden gush of blood spurts out of the wound and covers his gloved hands. He frowns and then laughs. Caught red-handed, almost literally – except that he isn’t about to get caught and he is more red-gloved than anything else. A sudden breath of air sweeps over his sweaty forehead. He looks up sharply. The window has been open the entire while. He freezes for a second and worries if anyone from the neighbouring building could have seen anything. He notices the light go off. He watches the vague outline of a woman retreat from the window. He slaps his bloodied gloves to his forehead. He swears.

***

        “Estimated time of death, Doctor?” The dry voice of Superintendent Oh cut through the periodic clicking of the cameras. The cameramen paused their relentless photographing and strained their ears anxiously to catch the reply. It would make sensational news the next day with gory photographs of a beautiful dead millionaire splashed liberally across the front pages. Their cameras dropped down and their hands plunged hastily in their tattered pockets, scrambling for notebooks to take down every word. With their hands positioned almost synchronically over their respective papers, they waited.

        The white coated doctor hesitated before replying. He pulled down the protective mask to reveal his chiselled, frowning features. He stood up slowly, thoughtfully showing off his lean muscular frame and sculpted body almost unconsciously. He could have been an actor playing a role. Yes, he could have, had it not been for the terribly real body sprawled at his feet. He was Dr. Lay Yixing, known for his handsome looks just as much as his impeccable record of consulting and medicine. He wiped his blood-splattered hands on his equally blood smeared coat and said, “It’s difficult to place, but I should think somewhere between ten and one at night.” He hesitated and then added softly, “Some of these wounds look fresh, while others seem to have been inflicted quite a time before. It’s almost contradictory, you know.”

         Superintendent Oh sighed. He didn’t like murders. And he had a faint sort of intuition that this was going to be a long-drawn, tiresome, strange affair. He waved the reporters away with a practiced hand and authoritatively ordered them out the room. He came forward slowly. This wasn’t the first body he had encountered in his career. But it seemed to be the strangest. There lay a woman, beautiful most might say, dead in a dark pool of blood. Numerous wounds were inflicted on her torso. Faint red marks around indicated strangling too. There was too much battering done to the body. It seemed as though even after she had clearly died, the murderer had ploughed on.

        “What’s your opinion, Lay?” Superintendent Oh asked tiredly. He dropped his professional demeanour and clutched his head wearily.

          “Honestly, Sehun, I’m not quite sure. All these wounds are so different. Some seem to be struck with immense force, others almost childlike. Some wounds are threatening, close to vital organs, clearly meaning to murder. Others, contrary to that, are almost safe. They all seem to be struck at different times too. And notice this,” He extended one arm and pointed to a cluster of messy stabs over the chest. “Look at them closely.”

           Sehun reached out and brought a mask close to his sharp jaw. He lowered his almost arrogantly handsome face to the wounds and inspected them with an observant eye.

      “They haven’t bled.” He announced slowly, straightening himself up. His lips etched in a line of worry, he looked with perplexed eyes at Lay, waiting for the reply.

     “Exactly, they haven’t bled. It can only mean one thing. The wounds were inflicted after death.” He answered almost mechanically, tiredly.

     “A crime of passion, possibly, where the murderer continues his blows even after the victim dies.” Sehun’s husky voice was curiously flat and emotionless. It was his way of dealing with something out of the ordinary. He sighed once more.

      “Or murderers,” Lay muttered softly. His tongue travelled right to the facade of his brilliant white teeth, clashing against them as he subconsciously emphasized the plural.

      Sehun’s face contorted into a frown. He understood clearly the thoughts running through Lay’s mind. They had been friends much too long, so much so, that the need for clear enunciation seemed to have vanished. “Or murderers.” He agreed. He crossed his long arms thoughtfully and stated slowly, hesitatingly, “So we could be dealing with a group here?” He didn’t like the words that came out of his mouth. Most decidedly, he did not. It seemed theatrical. Something that was straight out of a crime fiction. He bit his lower lip worriedly.

         Lay wouldn’t reply. Instead, he transferred his attention to gingerly extracting the lethal dagger from the hollow incision at the very crook of the victim’s neck. Drops of dried blood flecked its rugged, jagged ends but the wound itself had bled very little. In fact, it had hardly bled at all.

       “This thing is a perfect delight for murderers all over the world,” Lay said, crooked humour lacing his deep voice. “With a point this sharp, she would have almost certainly been killed at the first blow provided the murderer knew when to jab it.” His eyes ran over the dagger with a medical excitement and the involuntary shudder of a human being. “Look at it, man, a child could have murdered this woman with this thing!”

         Lay quietly handed over the lethal weapon to Sehun. He looked at it with cold, impassive eyes and lightly grazed the sharp edges against his gloved fingers. The protective gloves immediately split into two clear fragments. He deepened his frown while his mouth curved down almost sadly.

       “I’ll have the body analyzed further at the Lab but I don’t think it’ll reveal too much more.” Lay said, dusting his coat and discarding his scarlet gloves.

        “Have the dagger checked for fingerprints?” Sehun said amusedly, “Although I’m pretty sure we’ll find none. Criminals nowadays, they play smart. A shame, it is too.” He smiled ruefully before getting up. He stretched his cramped legs, threw his bloodied gloves carelessly in the waste bin and stalked out.

          Almost immediately, he was surrounded, encircled by a volley of reporters, ing huge microphones into his face, screaming questions at decibels so high, it was a wonder that dogs hadn’t started lining up yet. Sehun was used to this. He raised his eyebrows in slight frustration. He contemplated screaming at them and scaring them away, but decided against it. They had to deal with it sooner or later. He reached out to the nearest microphone, positioned himself casually against the wall and started off, rattling off the facts like he had always done.

         “The victim is one Kim Jinhee, wife of Kim Joon Myun, known better as Suho. It is of course, known to all, that Suho is one of the most influential people in the country today, perhaps in the world and although this amounts to sensational news, I would implore you to preserve a slight shred of decency.” Superintendent Oh smiled slightly before continuing, “The cause of death is clear, multiple stabbings on the torso, back and neck. Time of death is estimated to be between ten and one. The body was discovered by the maid in the morning somewhere between seven and half past seven. That’s all the information we can provide you at this time. Kindly leave now, we shall not entertain any more queries.”

         He abruptly shooed away a few reporters and motioned them outside authoritatively. He was a soft-spoken, mild man, but the aura of authority hung strongly around him. His sharp eyes watched the reporters grudgingly make their way outside and he smirked amusedly. It was a momentary reaction. Almost immediately, his eyes returned to their downcast expression while his mouth straightened itself to a thin line.

      “Very well done, Superintendent,” Lay’s mocking voice reached his ears. He looked back and saw Lay standing discreetly by the wall. “You could have always become a teacher, you know, or a principal. But then again, you’d probably be too good-looking for a principal. Students would probably come up to you every day with confessions.” He said thoughtfully.

“Are you done with the banter?” Sehun asked coldly.

       “Calm down, man,” Lay held up his hands in mock surrender. Then dropping his facetiousness, he turned seriously to Sehun, “Why didn’t you reveal the part about the locked door?” His eyes followed Sehun’s movements carefully.

       “The murder is sensational as it is. We needn’t fuel the rumours by adding in the cliché locked room scenario as well.” There was no trace of laughter or amusement in his tone. It was grave, sad almost. “Anyway, we mustn’t reveal too much to the press until we have the permission of the husband. He was contacted earlier this morning and hopefully, he should turn up by this evening latest.” Sehun ended firmly, he wouldn’t speak any further. He turned around and walked ahead confidently, “Come now, Lay, we’ll tackle the household first.” Lay nodded.

 ***

       “It must have come as a terrible shock to you, we understand that, Ma’am. But we would like your absolute co-operation.” Sehun lowered his voice to a paternal, kindly tone and looked encouragingly at the girlish figure seated before him. She nodded, giggling slightly. Sehun sighed inwardly. To the girl, he asked brightly, “We’ll start off with the routine questions, Ma’am, so that we can get you comfortable. Would you mind providing us with your name, address and particulars of your job?”

        The thin girl fidgeting before him stared bashfully at his crossed legs and giggled for the umpteenth time. She answered in a high, excited voice, “My name is Minji. As of now, I stay here at the servants’ quarters. I got the job through my Aunt, Eunjung, she’s the cook.” She giggled again, “I do, I mean, I did most of Madam’s work like cleaning the room up, setting right her clothes and making sure everything was neat. Madam was such a stickler for cleanliness!”

       “I see,” Sehun nodded. His heavy head began to ache from her intermittent giggling. He clenched his teeth for a second before asking, “Now, would you mind recounting us with exactly what you saw when you entered the room?”

           Minji’s evidently didn’t mind. Her eyes grew wide and shimmering and a sort of frenzy gripped her. She was obviously enjoying retelling the story. There was the macabre sort of excitement in her at having become a crucial aspect of a sensational murder. She rocketed back and forth in the chair in her excitement, forgetting even to let out her periodic giggles. She started off in a shrill, excited inflection, “It was around seven. Madame was always an early riser. She would always be up by six and ready by seven. Usually I would go down to her room by seven and tidy up while she would come down to the hall for her morning tea and toast. I went to her room as usual today. I knocked. When I didn’t get a reply, I tried the knob but the door was locked. I waited for a few minutes. I then tried calling out to Madam, but there was no reply.” She dropped her voice to a convincing whisper, “Instinctively I knew something was wrong!”

        Sehun rolled his eyes in a sudden involuntary show of emotion. He restrained himself from making a disbelieving noise of impatience. He had heard far too many stories of this sort. He shut his eyes in mock despair while the girl continued.

      “The air around the room seemed cold and lifeless. I could almost sense that Death was close. Yes, Officer, it was instinct!” She muttered in an exaggerated whisper.

       “Superintendent,” Sehun corrected mechanically, disregarding the remainder of the woman’s animated story build up. She seemed slightly disappointed at his lack of response, but ploughed on nonetheless with high levels of enthusiasm.

      “So, I dropped down to my knees and looked through the key-hole,” She paused here, having the decency to blush at her unladylike action, waiting to gauge the reactions of Sehun.

      “Please continue, Ma’am. I’ve done much more key-hole spying in my time than you might have ever attempted.” He said dryly.

     “So, I looked through the key hole,” She resumed her narrative, looking slightly put off. “I couldn’t really see much through the hole,” She admitted, “But I caught sight of a sort of reddish liquid running across the flooring. It was scary.” She shuddered suddenly, all her excitement seemed to ebb away, “I got the key from down, unlocked the door and saw that...that horrible sight of Madam lying dead!” Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, glazing in the heat of her recollections. “I think I screamed then. I ran out soon after and got Soomin to call up the police.”

     “Okay, thank you, Ma’am. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to pose a few questions to you. Answer them as accurately as you can.” Sehun nodded slightly to Lay who immediately drew out a recorder. “Firstly, was the door completely and absolutely locked when you tried it?”

“As locked as locked can be, Sir.”

“Can you recollect if the windows were shut or not?”

“All were shut, I think. Yes Sir, all windows were closed.”

“Are you quite sure you didn’t notice anyone else in the room when you first encountered your Madam’s body?”

“Yes Sir, absolutely, I looked around too, Sir.”

“Did you tamper, touch or change the position of anything in the room?”

“No Sir, not one bit.”

“Okay, pardon me, but I must ask you this again,” He lowered his voice, “Are you quite sure there was no one else in the room?”

“No-o,”

         Sehun jumped at the slight inflection in her tone. He looked at her with startling, bright eyes and asked, “So you might not be sure?”

       She looked at him confusedly for a second. She hesitated, then shook her head decisively, “No, Sir, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anyone else in the room.” She paused for a second before continuing in a triumphant whisper, “Even if there was, Sir, where would he go?”

       “You can leave us to decide that, Ma’am.” Sehun answered coldly. All his previous kindliness seemed to ebb away in a sudden change of mind. He stood up, motioning the girl to do the same and escorted her to the door. “Thank you for your co-operation, Ma’am.” He nodded towards her and said, “Please send in the said Soomin, thank you.” He stood at the door watching the slim girlish figure walk away disappointedly. He massaged his aching temples vigorously and leaned against the door tiredly.

       “Just your type, eh?” Lay came forward from his discreet corner with an impish grin adorning his boyish face. “She seemed quite enamoured by you.”

       “We can only be glad it wasn’t Kai interrogating her.” Sehun answered, his lips curving into a momentary smirk before relapsing into their tired lines.

***

            He looks with frightened eyes at the news flashing across his television set. His hand reaches out for the remote. He needs to change the channels. He cannot go on watching this. He reaches out, but knocks down a glass of water instead. The water drips down, darkening the red carpeted flooring as it snakes along its way. He stares at the wet carpet for a few seconds with shocked, terror-filled eyes. Flashes of blood, of strangling, of stabbings and shadows rush through his mind. He shakes his head furiously almost trying to throw the images away from him. He stops suddenly as a picture of the beautiful, dead, mutilated body crops up on his television screen. He tries to scream, but he chokes. He looks around fearfully. His ears twitch upward at every sound. He throws the empty glass at the television screen, but it blares on nonetheless. The glass breaks into a million pieces.

            He looks at his hands. He can almost see the traces of blood on them. He crawls to the bathroom and turns the shower on. He sits on the bathroom tiles, clothes and all. The water comes down with a resounding splash. He is soaked to the bone. He doesn’t care. He sits there silently, feeling the pressure of water on his body with a certain degree of relief. His tears mingle with the showers of water. He cries.