Hyomin was gone.

The words felt like deep scratches on his heart. Hyomin was the woman he had always thought of when he imagined his future or remembered his past. Paula had been his eternal crush. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his face, that Jin realized he was crying. Here he was, sitting in the dark, bawling like some kid. How pathetic.

Suddenly, a strong rush of anger hit him. Hyomin had left him. It didn’t matter that she never really belonged to him or that she was taken against her will. Bottom line. She was gone. She had left.

He got up and Leonard Cohen’s Everybody Knows.  He let the heavy beats of the music wash over him and then started rummaging through a trunk in his closet. He tossed out old papers and pictures, letting them fall haphazardly on the floor. When he found what he was looking for, he grabbed a black sharpie from a drawer in his computer desk.

He opened his old high school year book and began looking for pictures of Hyomin. One by one, he colored over her picture with his dark marker as if trying to wipe out her existence in his life. Each of his pen felt like a cathartic release to him. He briefly thought of who would tell Eunjung about Hyomin, but then shrugged. It wasn’t his problem anymore. As he marked out Hyomin’s pictures, he noticed that there was another person marked out in his book. He shut his eyes to stop the memories from resurfacing. After he had marked out all of her pictures, he walked to his bathroom and looked in the mirror.

As the music continued to play in the background on repeat, Jin leaned toward his reflection.  He was angry that Hyomin left him, he was angry at himself for being alone, and he was angry about what his eyes reminded him of.

Jin wouldn’t remember lifting his arm or using his fist to strike the mirror.  He would only remember the incredible feeling of loneliness that engulfed him that night.

Across Town

Joojin sat in her living room recounting the day’s events. She was still very much shook up about the crown of flowers in her car but she reminded herself that this wasn’t the first time a reader had gone too far in the name of telling a joke.  

Once she had written a story encouraging people to recycle only to wake up the next day and find bags of garbage thrown on her front lawn. Joojin was a strong person and not much scared her, but the idea of being on the radar of a serial killer was not something she desired. Her friend, Detective Jackson, thought it was just a prank. Joojin hoped he was right. She relished in the idea of being the reporter that named the Demon King but she didn’t want to be a victim of his.

Joojin took a deep breath and walked through her house again, checking that her windows were locked and that nobody was hiding under her bed or in the closets. She would have to remind Hyeri to set the alarm when she left in the morning. Joojin thought of Hyeri who had texted her earlier, “Staying at Jr.’s tonight!” It was probably for the best that Hyeri wasn’t home. She was the only family that Joojin had left. She would hate for something to happen to Hyeri because of a story that she had written. Joojin picked up her phone and texted her cousin back, “Okay, be safe.”

Joojin grabbed a knife and hid it under her pillow. She was taking no chances tonight.

Outside the city limits

He couldn’t believe how things were working out for himself. He laughed as he walked to his cellar. He loved this place. It was his secret room. Nobody ever disturbed him here. It was where he could work in peace. If anyone else ever found out about it, things would be over pretty fast. In the meantime, he was able to continue his game as long as he wanted. He looked at the newspaper article from last week.

Demon King Claims Second Victim

If she only knew. He laughed again at the ignorance of the article. Kim Joojin was the writer.

Demon King

In his mind it was very fitting. He felt like a king and he was a demon to the core. He looked at the corner of his cellar. Remnants of his previous victims were piled up. He picked up a skull and laughed. “Second victim? I think not.”

He let the skull fall from his hands and walked back to his computer which lay on his workbench. He logged onto a site that he had been visiting lately: Love Match.

Some unfortunate woman was about to make a date with death.