The night had an eerie stillness, broken only by the soft murmur of the city lights below. On the 23rd floor of the exclusive Arise Towers in downtown Seoul, an unsettling scene unfolded that would forever haunt the halls of the pristine luxury apartments.

The air inside the apartment was heavy, tinged with the sharp scent of expensive perfume mixed with something darker, metallic. A large window overlooking the vibrant city remained open, the curtains billowing gently as the soft night breeze entered. The room, lavishly decorated in shades of gold and cream, now seemed out of place, tainted by the inexplicable event that had taken place just hours before.

She lay on the marble floor, her once vibrant red dress stained a deep crimson. Her lifeless body was arranged unnervingly, as if posed deliberately. Her name was Song Yuna, a woman known more by her enigmatic beauty and connections than by anything concrete. Whispers of her social life floated through the elite circles, but no one really knew her. At 34, she had captured the interest of many but remained an enigma to all. And now, she was dead.

***

Kim Joon, one of Seoul's top detectives, stood outside the apartment building, looking up at the neon-lit tower that loomed above him. His reputation for solving the most perplexing cases had earned him the nickname *The Ghost Hunter*—not because he hunted the paranormal, but because of his uncanny ability to chase down unseen leads, uncovering truths buried deep in shadows.

He had been called in late, after the first responders found themselves baffled by the peculiarities of the case. There were no obvious signs of struggle, no forced entry, and curiously, no murder weapon. The only witness was the night sky, the only sound the hum of traffic far below.

Kim Joon adjusted his dark trench coat and entered the building, taking the private elevator to the 23rd floor. His mind raced, already piecing together fragments of information he'd received from the preliminary report. A woman in her prime, found murdered in one of the city's most expensive apartments with no apparent motive or suspect.

As he entered the apartment, Joon's eyes immediately fell on Song Yuna's body, still in the same position the first responders had described. A delicate-looking woman, her black hair fanned out across the marble like an ominous halo, the red of her dress stark against the white floor. Her eyes, wide open, still stared at the ceiling as though frozen in shock.

He walked around her carefully, taking in every detail. The scent of her perfume lingered, something floral with a spicy undertone, but now it was overwhelmed by the unmistakable smell of blood. He crouched down, examining the wound on her chest—clean, precise, and deep. Almost surgical.

"Detective Joon," a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Officer Park, one of the young officers on the scene. "We haven't found any signs of a break-in, no fingerprints, no clues... nothing. It's as if the killer vanished."

"Vanished," Joon repeated under his breath. He looked around the room, his eyes scanning every surface. He knew better than to expect an obvious clue—this wasn't the work of an amateur. He would need to dig deeper.

Joon rose and moved toward the open window. From here, the city stretched out like a living, breathing organism. The wind whispered softly, carrying with it the scent of the nearby Han River. He examined the window ledge and the surroundings. No footprints, no indication that anyone had escaped through it.

Turning back, his eyes lingered on a framed photograph resting on a nearby table. It was of Song Yuna, laughing at some unknown joke, her eyes full of life. Next to her in the picture was a man, his face turned slightly away from the camera, but Joon could see enough to recognize wealth and power in his demeanor. The photograph felt out of place—why would someone so private keep such a prominent image on display?

"Who was she?" Joon asked Officer Park, though he already knew the answer would be vague.

"Song Yuna. Wealthy, connected, but... mysterious. She didn't have any close family that we know of. Friends? Some, but no one seemed to know her too well. Her personal life is a black hole," Park explained, sounding as baffled as everyone else involved in the case.

"Mysterious indeed," Joon muttered. He picked up the photograph, scrutinizing it. "Do we know who this man is?"

Park shook his head. "No. No one's been able to identify him yet."

Joon put the photograph down carefully and straightened up. He had the sinking feeling that this case would be anything but straightforward.

As he turned to leave the apartment, his eyes fell on the corner of the room, where a single red rose lay on the floor. There was no vase, no other flowers, just the one rose, its petals dark and velvety, as though it had been freshly cut. It was untouched by blood or chaos, standing in stark contrast to the gruesome scene that surrounded it.

"Bag that," Joon ordered, pointing to the rose. "I want it analyzed."

His gut told him that the rose, just like everything else in the room, was deliberate—placed there by the killer as some kind of message. And as the night deepened, Joon knew this was just the beginning of a case that would take him deeper into the heart of Seoul's hidden shadows, where secrets lay buried and waiting to be uncovered.

(Try enjoying this story and forgive me if u find any mistakes by the way I'm writing this note because this chapter is kinda short and so i really need 500 words so never mind me and. Enjoy)

The next morning, the news of Song Yuna's death spread like wildfire across the city. The press labeled it as "The Red Lady Murder," a name that stuck and haunted Seoul's elite. But beneath the sensational headlines, Kim Joon remained focused, already unraveling the threads that bound this mystery together.

He sat in his office, the rose from the crime scene now placed in a clear evidence bag in front of him. It had been examined, but there was nothing unusual about it. No fingerprints, no DNA traces. Just a single, perfectly fresh rose.

"Who leaves a rose like that?" Joon mused out loud. He leaned back in his chair, his mind swirling with theories. This was no random act of violence. Whoever had killed Song Yuna had done so with precision and intent. But why?

He glanced over at the board he had set up in his office, where photographs of Song Yuna's body and the crime scene were pinned alongside her personal details. Her background was frustratingly thin—her parents had died when she was young, she had no siblings, and her social connections seemed more like acquaintances than friends. She had worked as a freelance art curator, often traveling abroad for exhibitions. But something didn't sit right with Joon. How did someone with such a low profile end up in the middle of a high-profile murder?

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Officer Park. "Detective, we found something."

"What is it?"

"A connection. Song Yuna was last seen at an exclusive party two nights ago at the Haneul Club, a private members-only establishment. The guest list includes several high-profile names, and one of them is a man who matches the description of the person in the photograph we found."

Joon's interest piqued. "Who is he?"

"His name is Han Seung-min. CEO of HanTech, one of the biggest tech firms in South Korea. He's a major player in both business and politics. But here's the thing—he's been off the radar for the last 24 hours. No one's seen or heard from him since Song Yuna's murder."

Joon's instincts flared. This was more than just a coincidence. "Meet me at the Haneul Club. I want to speak with anyone who was at that party."

As he grabbed his coat and headed out the door, Joon couldn't shake the feeling that the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. Han Seung-min wasn't just a guest at that party—he was part of something much bigger, something that would lead Joon into the darkest corners of Seoul's elite.

And somewhere in those shadows, the truth about Song Yuna's murder awaited him.

The Haneul Club, nestled discreetly among Seoul’s towering skyscrapers, was a place shrouded in exclusivity and secrecy. It catered to the elite, a sanctuary where business tycoons, politicians, and celebrities could mingle away from prying eyes. No cameras, no reporters, and certainly no gossip that left its luxurious walls.

Kim Joon arrived outside the club, a modern glass building adorned with minimalist decor that screamed wealth. Officer Park was already waiting for him at the entrance, a file in hand.

"Detective Joon, I spoke with the club’s manager. They're willing to cooperate, but there’s not much in the way of security footage. No cameras inside, just at the entrance," Park said, his expression grim.

Joon had expected as much. This wasn’t the kind of place that relied on traditional surveillance. Privacy was the commodity here.

"Who else was at the party that night?" Joon asked as they entered the club.

Park opened the file and read off the names. "A few high-profile CEOs, a politician or two, some models, and art dealers. But Han Seung-min stands out. He left early, around midnight. No one seems to know where he went afterward. And no one’s been able to contact him since."

As they walked deeper into the club’s dimly lit interior, Joon took in the surroundings. The atmosphere was a blend of elegance and power—leather chairs, subdued lighting, and the hum of wealth in the air. But beneath the glamour, he sensed something darker, more elusive.

The manager, an older man with a sharp suit and an even sharper gaze, met them near the bar. "Detective Joon, Officer Park," he greeted them with a curt nod. "I’ve been informed you have some questions about our recent event."

"We understand Song Yuna was a guest here two nights ago," Joon began, his voice calm but probing. "She was seen with Han Seung-min. We’d like to know more about what happened that night. Who she interacted with, any unusual behavior."

The manager’s face remained neutral, though Joon could see the subtle tension behind his eyes. "Ms. Song was a quiet guest. She didn’t draw much attention, though a few people spoke with her. She stayed for a couple of hours, spoke with Mr. Han briefly, and then left."

"Anything unusual about her interactions with Mr. Han?" Joon asked.

The manager hesitated, then spoke carefully. "There was a bit of tension. I wouldn’t say it was a public confrontation, but they weren’t exactly friendly. After they spoke, she left alone, and Mr. Han seemed… unsettled."

Joon’s eyes narrowed. "Unsettled how?"

"He left shortly after, without saying goodbye to anyone. It’s not typical of him. He’s usually very composed."

Joon exchanged a look with Officer Park. This was the first concrete lead they’d had. If there had been tension between Han Seung-min and Song Yuna, it could point to a motive. But what was the connection between them? Song Yuna had no known ties to HanTech or its business ventures.

"Did anyone else speak with Song Yuna that night?" Joon pressed.

The manager nodded. "A few. One of them was a woman named Choi Mi-young, an art dealer. She and Ms. Song had a long conversation, but I didn’t overhear it."

"Where can we find Choi Mi-young?" Joon asked, making a mental note to follow up.

"She has a gallery in the Itaewon district. I can provide the address," the manager replied.

"One last thing," Joon said, as they turned to leave. "Has Mr. Han been to the club since that night?"

The manager’s expression flickered just for a second, enough for Joon to notice. "No, Detective. He hasn’t. And we haven’t been able to contact him either."

As they exited the club, Joon felt the weight of the case bearing down on him. Han Seung-min’s disappearance was more than suspicious—it reeked of guilt. But without more concrete evidence, Joon knew he was chasing shadows. There were still too many unanswered questions.

"Let’s visit Choi Mi-young," Joon said, starting the engine of his car. "Maybe she can shed some light on Song Yuna’s life before it ended."