The woman in Red

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.

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