NOVEMBER 27

2:37 a.m.

The streets of Seoul were unnervingly silent under the weight of midnight. The city’s usual cacophony had quieted to a hum, the sounds of passing cars and murmuring nightlife barely echoing into the narrow alleyways hidden in the shadows. A dense fog had swept in from the Han River, blurring the edges of buildings and wrapping around street lamps like ghostly tendrils.

Down a forgotten alley near the river, a figure in a dark hood moved swiftly and soundlessly, steps muffled against the wet pavement. The fog seemed to cling to them, shrouding their face as if they were part of the night itself. They halted by a derelict brick wall, eyeing it with a meticulous gaze, and then slipped a hand into their coat pocket, pulling out a small piece of white chalk.

One by one, they traced symbols onto the wall, each stroke deliberate and precise, like a dancer following choreography. These symbols were old, forgotten by most—a language only a few in Seoul would recognize. As the figure drew, they muttered under their breath in a low, rhythmic cadence, words lost in the swirling mist but resonating with the silence. Finished, the figure stepped back, admiring their work with a subtle satisfaction. The symbols seemed to pulse faintly, as if charged with energy, each line whispering secrets older than the city itself.

As the figure turned to disappear into the darkness, footsteps sounded from a nearby street. For a moment, the figure paused, just barely shifting their head as a shadow flickered at the end of the alley. But as quickly as the footsteps had come, they faded, leaving only silence. A faint smile crept across the figure’s lips. They melted back into the fog, leaving the symbols glowing faintly under the dim light.

NOVEMBER 28

6:12 a.m.

A shrill ring shattered the predawn quiet of Detective Lee Jong-wook’s apartment, pulling him from a sleep he barely remembered entering. He blinked against the pale morning light filtering through his curtains, reaching blindly for his phone on the nightstand. The screen displayed the familiar emergency contact.

"Another one," came the brief message. Jongno district. Alley by the river.

Lee's heart sank as he threw on his clothes, every part of him bracing for what he’d find. It had been weeks since the first of these murders, each more gruesome and enigmatic than the last. Team 3 had handled brutal cases before—they were the highest-performing unit in Seoul, known for cracking organized crime rings and bringing down hardened criminals. But this case was different, a maze of puzzles with no clear path out.

He arrived at the scene, ducking under the yellow tape, where Detective Park Soo-min, his partner, was already waiting. Park’s face was tense, his eyes fixed on the far end of the alley where officers moved carefully, casting uneasy glances at the walls as if fearing they’d reveal more horrors.

“Same as the others?” Lee asked, his voice barely above a whisper, though he already knew the answer.

Park nodded grimly. “Same patterns. Symbols. Placement. But this one… it’s worse.”

Lee’s gaze followed Park’s to the body lying in the center of the alley. The victim’s limbs were arranged in that familiar, haunting position, arms crossed over the chest, head tilted left, eyes staring blankly at the damp pavement. But something was different. There was a rigidity, a finality to this pose that seemed almost… reverent.

“What do you mean by worse?” Lee asked, his voice low, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Park gestured toward the wall, where a new set of symbols had been scrawled in chalk, lines sharper and more precise than before. They seemed more intricate, more purposeful, their meaning obscured but their message unmistakable: Someone was watching. Someone was waiting.

But it wasn’t only the symbols that caught Lee’s eye. Near the body, a faint mark showed on the victim’s wrist—a tattoo, partially obscured by blood. It was unfamiliar, a combination of characters that didn’t belong to any language Lee recognized. He bent down, a chill creeping up his spine as he tried to trace its lines. Somehow, he felt as though the tattoo was meant for him to see. As if the killer wanted him to understand but was taunting him with his own ignorance.

“We need someone who can see this case with fresh eyes,” Soo-min said quietly, echoing Lee’s own thoughts.

Lee nodded slowly, a strange clarity coming over him. They needed someone who could look beyond the obvious, someone who wasn’t yet hardened by years of brutal cases. Someone with an unclouded perspective.

“What do you think it means?” Park asked, his voice barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb whatever dark energy lingered in the alley.

“I don’t know,” Lee replied, straightening. “But I think… I think it’s only the beginning.”

VALEBROOK INSTITUTE OF CRIMINAL SCIENCES --

NOVEMBER 28

3:42 p.m

On the other side of the world, AJ was catching her breath, a late lunch barely touched beside her as she pored over case files in the quiet corner of the university library. As a criminology student, she’d grown accustomed to the grim details in the files. But today was different. Today, she was so engrossed that she didn’t notice her phone vibrating on the table until it buzzed for the fourth time.

AJ’s mentor, Dr. Eleanor Choi’s name flashed across the screen. Frowning, AJ picked up, only to be met with a brief silence, the kind that felt like a pause before bad news.

“AJ,” Dr. Choi’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Are you sitting down?”

“I am, Professor. Is everything all right?”

“Not… exactly. Seoul Police Department just reached out to me. They need help with a case.” A pause, and then, “I recommended you.”

AJ’s heart skipped, a mixture of excitement and trepidation filling her chest. “You mean… actually work with them? Like an internship?”

Dr. Choi’s silence was long, and then she said, “Not quite. This case is… complicated. It’s unlike anything you’ve studied, anything I’ve ever taught. And the patterns… they’re unsettling.”

A flicker of nervous excitement lit in AJ’s mind, but something in Dr. Choi’s tone tempered it. This wasn’t just a case. It felt like an invitation into something unknown, something far darker than she’d ever imagined.

“AJ, be careful,” Dr. Choi murmured. “I’ll send you the files I have so far. Read them on your way.”

As AJ ended the call, a chill trickled down her spine, her hand resting over her chest where she could feel the thundering of her heart. She glanced out the window, her eyes drifting toward the hazy horizon. She’d always dreamed of making a difference, of using her skills in the field.

But a voice whispered in the back of her mind:

Some doors, once opened, could never be closed again.

______________________________________________

DECEMBER 3

4:56 p.m.

The plane’s wheels touched down with a shuddering jolt, and AJ’s heart skipped as the announcement in Korean and English crackled through the speakers. Seoul, a city she had dreamed of visiting since she was young, stretched out before her, the faint glow of sunset casting a honeyed light over the skyline. She peered out the small window, catching her first glimpse of the city that lay waiting—a metropolis both beautiful and impenetrable, full of vibrant streets and hidden shadows.

But she wasn’t here for the lights or the markets, nor the pop culture that had colored her world from a distance. She was here to catch a killer.

5:30 p.m.

Navigating her way out of the airport, AJ soon found herself in a sleek black sedan arranged by Dr. Choi. The car glided through the busy streets, the sights passing in a blur as she wrestled with the mixture of excitement and dread churning in her stomach. She was in Seoul to assist Team 3, the most formidable unit in the Seoul Police Department, renowned for their record-breaking arrest rates and iron-willed detectives. But this case—this one was different, something even they couldn’t unravel.

AJ’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a message from Dr. Choi, brief yet somehow ominous.

"Welcome to Seoul. Stick with Detective Lee. Trust your instincts."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she locked the screen and tucked the phone away. Dr. Choi wasn’t prone to dramatics; if she was warning AJ, there was reason to be careful.

6:47 p.m.

By the time AJ arrived at the Seoul Police Station, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving only the city’s neon glow illuminating the entrance. She steeled herself as she walked inside, taking in the bustling scene of detectives and officers huddled around desks, murmuring over files and maps tacked to the walls. It was a world she had studied in classrooms and read about in case studies, yet here, in person, the air felt thick with an unspoken tension.

“Anjali...?”

She turned to see a man standing at the threshold of a glass-walled office, watching her with keen, dark eyes. His face was impassive, but his gaze was sharp, scrutinizing her with a level of intensity that felt almost unsettling. He wore a simple dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing faint scars along his forearms—evidence of a life lived on the edge. She guessed immediately that this was Detective Lee.

“Yes. But please, call me AJ.” She offered a polite nod, willing herself to meet his gaze with confidence.

He nodded curtly and gestured for her to follow him into the office. The space was sparse, cluttered only with stacks of case files and an intricate map of Seoul pinned to the wall, red and blue pins marking locations across the city. Her eyes caught on a cluster of pins around the river in the Jongno district, each one a point on a macabre path winding through the city.

Detective Lee noticed her gaze. “Those are the crime scenes.”

The words hung in the air between them, weighted with all the horrors they implied. She forced herself to look away, realizing that he was studying her again.

“Dr. Choi speaks highly of you,” he said after a beat, his tone neutral but with a hint of skepticism. “Top of your class, but you’ve never been on a case like this. Not in the field.”

It wasn’t a question. He was sizing her up, gauging if she could handle what lay ahead.

AJ squared her shoulders, determination hardening her voice. “No, but I’m ready to learn. I want to help.”

For a moment, Detective Lee’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “Good,” he replied. “Because this is unlike anything you’ve ever studied. These murders… they’re not random. They’re precise, planned, ritualistic. Whoever is doing this is following a pattern, a system.”

“Have you identified the pattern yet?”

His face grew grim. “Not exactly. That’s where we need your help. Fresh eyes.” He gestured toward a thick file on the table, the top page featuring a blurry photo of symbols chalked onto a brick wall. “Each victim has been left with these markings. They’re not just symbols—they’re messages. But we can’t decipher them. We believe the killer is taunting us.”

AJ reached for the file, studying the photograph carefully. The symbols were jagged and arcane, a blend of shapes that seemed almost alive, as though they were writhing beneath the camera flash. Her pulse quickened as she recognized something familiar in their design, a similarity to symbols she had once seen in a forgotten case study on ancient Korean shamanism.

“They look ritualistic,” she murmured, half to herself, and Lee’s eyebrows rose slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“That’s exactly what we’ve suspected. Every symbol is like a signature, but there’s no clear meaning we can trace. Dr. Choi mentioned you have an eye for patterns. We’re hoping that’ll be enough.”

The door clicked open then, and another detective stepped in, his face ashen. “Lee,” he said tersely. “We found another body. Jongno district.”

Detective Lee’s face tightened. He glanced at AJ, his eyes dark and inscrutable. “Looks like you’re getting your first case sooner than expected.”

8:29 p.m.

They drove through the winding streets of Jongno in silence, the rhythmic thud of tires on asphalt the only sound. Lee’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his expression unreadable as the city lights flashed past in bursts of color. AJ sat beside him, her mind racing with questions she was too apprehensive to ask. She could feel the tension between them—Lee was a seasoned detective, hardened by years on the force. To him, she was an outsider, a student brought in for her academic expertise but untested in the realities of crime scenes.

They pulled up to the alley, where a team of officers had already set up a perimeter. Yellow tape cordoned off the entrance, fluttering in the cold night air. Lee motioned for her to follow as they stepped past the line, moving deeper into the dimly lit passage.

The scene was chillingly quiet, save for the soft murmur of officers analyzing the area. AJ’s eyes fell on the body lying in the center of the alley—limbs splayed in an almost symmetrical position, a grotesque imitation of a ritualistic pose.

But it was the symbols on the wall that drew her attention, scrawled in a bold, almost furious hand. They were more intricate than those she had seen in the case file, and as she looked closer, she noticed something disturbing: the symbols formed a distorted face, eyes hollow, mouth open in a silent scream.

“This…” She breathed, taking an involuntary step back. “It’s different.”

“Yes,” Lee’s voice was grim, as though he had reached the same realization. “The killer’s escalating. He’s pushing us, testing how far we’re willing to go.”

AJ forced herself to look back at the body, her mind racing with questions. But as she stared into the hollow eyes of the symbol, a chill crept through her veins—a feeling she couldn’t shake.

Somewhere in the dark corners of Seoul, a predator was watching. And she was certain he knew exactly who she was.

______________________________________________

DECEMBER 3

10:11 p.m.

The alley felt like it was holding its breath. The temperature seemed to drop, and AJ felt a strange chill settle over her as she examined the symbols on the wall. She couldn’t shake the sensation that they were watching her, their hollow “eyes” locked on hers, as if trying to communicate some hidden message.

Detective Lee knelt beside the body, his flashlight illuminating the victim’s pale, rigid face. AJ noticed a faint trail of blood smudged along the alley floor, leading toward the wall. The victim’s outstretched hand pointed directly at one of the symbols, as though reaching out for it in a final, desperate attempt to understand.

“Do you recognize these markings?” Lee asked, his voice low and calm, though AJ could sense the tension lying just beneath the surface.

She hesitated, the images she’d studied at Valebrook Institute flashing through her mind. “They look like ancient Korean shamanistic symbols,” she murmured. “They’re often used in rituals, sometimes to invoke spirits or call for protection… but this,” she gestured to the twisted face, “it feels different. It’s almost like it’s mocking the very idea of protection.”

Lee’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenched. “The killer wants us to see this. It’s a message, but not one we’re going to like.”

AJ felt a twinge of unease ripple through her. Whoever this killer was, he wasn’t just interested in his victims—he was playing a game with the police, taunting them. She could almost hear him laughing, lurking somewhere in the shadows, waiting for them to slip.

“Detective Lee, can I ask… what do we know about the victim?” she ventured, hoping for some clue that might anchor the scene in her mind, something that would help her make sense of the killer’s twisted puzzle.

Lee sighed, his face lined with exhaustion. “Male, late twenties. Works in finance. No criminal record, no known affiliations with gangs. He doesn’t fit the typical victim profile we’d expect in a city like Seoul.”

She could feel the frustration in his voice, the irritation of a case that defied logic, a puzzle missing its most crucial pieces. “Have there been any witnesses? Anyone who might have seen something?”

Lee shook his head, his eyes dark and stormy. “Every crime scene has been the same. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no security camera footage. It’s as if he appears out of nowhere, commits the murder, and vanishes without a trace.”

AJ’s mind raced, trying to absorb each detail, every faint thread of information that might tie the scene together. “So… he’s methodical. He knows where to strike, and he’s careful not to leave anything behind.”

“Yes,” Lee agreed, his voice taking on a steely edge. “But he’s also growing bolder. The first few murders were in deserted areas, places where he wouldn’t be easily seen. But now…” He glanced around the alley, which lay just a few blocks away from a bustling night market. “Now he’s pushing closer to the public. He’s daring us to catch him.”

AJ’s gaze returned to the victim, and her stomach twisted with a growing sense of dread. She wondered how much more this killer would escalate, how far he’d go to satisfy his twisted need to send a message.

DECEMBER 4

7:03 a.m.

Back at the station, AJ sat in the dimly lit conference room, surrounded by the silent faces of the detectives in Team 3. The air was thick with tension as they reviewed the latest case notes, their expressions hard and unyielding. Detective Park shuffled through the case file, a grim look on his face.

“We have a killer who’s practically invisible,” Park said, breaking the silence. “He’s left no DNA, no fingerprints, and no witnesses. Just those damn symbols and bodies arranged like they’re pieces on a board.”

“Any progress on the analysis of the symbols?” Lee asked, leaning forward with a glint of intensity in his eyes.

One of the analysts, a wiry man named Jung, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “The symbols aren’t easy to track. We’ve compared them with known patterns in occult studies and ancient Korean shamanism, but nothing matches exactly. They’re familiar… yet different, almost like a hybrid language.”

Lee’s frustration was palpable. “So, we’re dealing with a killer who has either invented his own symbolic language or knows an ancient system better than any academic expert in Korea.”

AJ tapped her pen against her notebook, her mind racing. “What if… what if he’s leaving the symbols not just as taunts, but as clues? Like a breadcrumb trail leading us somewhere?”

Detective Park snorted, but there was no humor in his voice. “To where? His next victim?”

“No.” AJ’s voice was barely a whisper, her thoughts forming with unsettling clarity. “To something… bigger. Maybe each scene is part of a larger ritual. Each symbol alone doesn’t tell the story. But together, they might create a map, a larger picture of whatever twisted goal he’s working toward.”

The room fell silent, each detective lost in thought as AJ’s words sank in.

“Let’s assume for a moment that’s true,” Lee said finally, his eyes dark with contemplation. “How do we find out where he’s leading us?”

Before AJ could answer, a soft knock sounded at the door. An officer poked his head in, his face pale and tense. “Detective Lee, there’s been a call. Another body has been found. Similar symbols, but… there’s something else. You need to see it.”

DECEMBER 4

8:17 a.m.

The morning air was sharp with the scent of winter as they arrived at the scene, a deserted park on the outskirts of the city. A light frost had settled over the grass, shimmering under the weak sunlight. But what captured AJ’s attention was the message etched into the frost-covered ground—a set of symbols, larger than any they had seen before, spread out in a circular pattern around the body.

The victim lay in the center of the circle, arms crossed over his chest, eyes frozen wide open, staring skyward. His mouth was stretched into a grimace, as if caught in a silent scream. The symbols around him were clearer now, almost methodical, each one meticulously carved into the earth.

AJ knelt beside one of the symbols, her breath fogging in the cold air. “This is different. It’s as if he’s… progressing, like each kill is a step forward in his plan.”

“Look closer,” Lee murmured, his voice tight with unease.

She squinted, leaning in to study the symbol. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized a faint pattern around the edges—a shape almost like a mirror image of another symbol she had seen at the last scene. The realization hit her like a shock of cold water: the symbols weren’t just random—they were evolving, like pieces in a larger puzzle.

“It’s a cycle,” she whispered, feeling the pieces fall into place. “Each set of symbols is connected to the next. He’s creating… a sequence, each kill part of a chain.”

Lee’s face was grim. “A chain leading to what?”

AJ didn’t answer, but deep down, she feared she knew. She had seen similar cases in obscure criminology texts—cases where killers followed rituals to reach an ultimate goal, something they believed would grant them power, knowledge, or absolution.

But what could this killer possibly want?

DECEMBER 4

10:42 a.m.

Back at the station, AJ sat alone in the conference room, her mind racing as she studied the photos of the symbols from each crime scene. The pattern was there, hidden within the symbols, but each time she felt she was close to understanding, the meaning slipped through her fingers like sand.

A tap on the door made her look up. Lee stood there, watching her, a strange light in his eyes.

“Welcome to Seoul, AJ,” he said quietly. “This case… it’s only just begun.”