I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

As Inspector Kim and Senior Superintendent Choi enter the room, a hush falls over the gathered officers. I can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken questions and doubts that linger in the minds of my new colleagues.

Choi steps to the front of the room, his presence commanding the attention of everyone present. He clears his throat and speaks in a clear, authoritative voice.

"Before we begin, I'd like to introduce the newest member of our unit. This is Officer Park, and he'll be joining us effective immediately."

His words are met with a sea of surprised and skeptical faces. I can see the disbelief in their eyes, the unspoken questions that dance on the tips of their tongues.

But Choi doesn't elaborate further. He simply nods in my direction, his expression neutral and unreadable.

I stand tall, refusing to let their doubts and reservations shake my resolve. I know that I belong here, that I have something valuable to contribute to this team.

As everyone takes their seats, Inspector Kim steps forward to begin the briefing on Soo-yeon's case. I listen intently, my mind racing with theories and possibilities.

To my surprise, Kim begins to discuss the mark on the chopped body, the very detail that I had brought to his attention at the crime scene. I had thought that he wasn't listening, that my words had fallen on deaf ears.

But now, as he outlines the significance of the mark and its potential implications, I realize that he must have taken my observations to heart. Either that, or he and his team had come to the same conclusion independently.

Kim goes on to brief the team on other findings in the case. The criminal had apparently tried to rape Soo-yeon but had failed. No fingerprints were found at the scene, suggesting that the perpetrator had been careful to cover their tracks.

Perhaps most disturbingly, some parts of Soo-yeon's body are still missing, their whereabouts unknown.

As the briefing comes to a close, I gather my notes and prepare to leave the room. But before I can take more than a few steps, Inspector Kim approaches me, his expression unreadable.

"You weren't lying when you said you were going to join the unit," he says, his tone somewhere between a question and a statement.

I meet his gaze, my own expression calm and self-assured. "Why would I lie?"

Kim studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You must have done something right to be able to join the unit without graduating from the Korean National Police University."

I shrug, trying to keep my tone neutral and professional. "I've just been trying my best with my work, that's all."

Kim nods, but I can still sense a hint of skepticism in his demeanor. "Since this case happened in your previous jurisdiction, I was told to include you in the investigation. We're going to have a separate meeting now. Follow me."

As I trail behind Kim and the others to the other conference room, I can feel the weight of his dismissive attitude pressing down on me. It's clear that he still sees me as an outsider, someone who doesn't quite belong in this elite circle.

But before I can dwell on those thoughts for too long, a familiar voice echoes in my mind. It's Bundy, his tone equal parts curious and mocking.

"Why is everyone making such a big deal about this Korean National Police University?" he asks, his words dripping with sarcasm.

I grit my teeth, trying to push his voice aside. "Not a good time to talk," I mutter under my breath.

But Bundy is persistent, his presence in my mind like a nagging itch that won't go away. "Come on, Park. Indulge me. What's so special about this university?"

I sigh, realizing that he won't let the matter drop until I give him an answer. "The Korean National Police University is where only the top students can go," I explain, my thoughts racing as I try to keep up with the group. "After graduation, they can become police officers with a higher rank immediately, mainly starting as inspectors."

Bundy chuckles, the sound echoing in my mind like a dark and twisted melody. "And let me guess... you didn't go there because you weren't some hotshot academic in high school?"

I nod, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. "That's right. It wasn't an option for me. Instead, I became an officer through the standardized test that the police use to recruit low-level officers."

As we enter the conference room and take our seats, I can feel Bundy's presence fading from my mind, his curiosity apparently satisfied for the moment.

But even as I try to focus on the meeting at hand, I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that his questions have stirred up inside me. I know that I earned my place on this team through hard work and dedication, not through some fancy university degree.

But as I look around the room at the seasoned inspectors and detectives who surround me, I can't help but feel like an outsider, like someone who doesn't quite measure up to their level of expertise and experience.

As the meeting begins and the discussion turns to the details of Soo-yeon's case, I force myself to push those doubts aside. I know that I have valuable insights and perspectives to offer, that I can contribute to this investigation in meaningful ways.

Inspector Kim steps forward once again, his expression serious and focused. "We've identified the brand of the fridge that left the mark on the body," he says, his voice filled with a mix of determination and frustration. "But there are at least 100 restaurants and several big factories in the area using the same model. The mark definitely provided a crucial lead, but it's not enough on its own."

Just as Kim finishes his briefing, the door to the conference room opens and Sue walks in, her arms laden with documents. She quickly distributes them to each of us, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"This is a summary of all the evidence we've collected so far in the case," she explains, her voice soft but clear.

I can't help but notice the way Kim's demeanor changes as he interacts with Sue. His smile is warm and genuine, his voice gentle and almost affectionate as he thanks her for her help.

Sue flushes slightly at his words, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. I find myself wondering if there's something more going on between them, some sort of unspoken connection or attraction.

But before I can dwell on those thoughts for too long, my attention is drawn back to the documents in front of me. As I flip through the pages, my eyes scanning the various reports and analyses, something catches my attention.

It's a section on the fingerprints found at the scene, or rather, the lack thereof. The report notes that while no clear fingerprints were recovered, there were traces of finger impressions left behind, suggesting that the criminal had worn gloves during the commission of the crime.

But as I study the details more closely, I can't shake the feeling that there's something odd about the pattern of the impressions. Something that doesn't quite add up.

And just as that thought crosses my mind, I feel a familiar presence stirring in the back of my consciousness. It's Bundy, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

"You're looking in the right direction," he whispers, his words echoing in my mind like a dark and twisted prophecy.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding with a sudden surge of adrenaline. I know that I need to share my observations with the team, to point out the anomaly that I've noticed in the fingerprint evidence.

But as I look around the room at the seasoned inspectors and detectives who surround me, I can still sense their skepticism and dismissal. They see me as an outsider, someone who doesn't quite belong in their elite circle.

Nonetheless, I refuse to let their doubts hold me back. I raise my hand, my voice steady and self-assured as I ask for permission to speak.

"Inspector Kim, if I may?" I begin, my gaze focused and unwavering. "I noticed something unusual in the fingerprint evidence that I think warrants further investigation."

Kim nods, his expression neutral but not unkind. "Go ahead, Officer Park. What have you found?"

I stand up and start speaking in a firm voice.

"Based on traces of finger impressions and the photos we have; it seems like the criminal is missing a thumb on the right hand."