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

The search for Mirae Women's Clinic proves far more challenging than I'd anticipated. My initial inquiries lead to dead ends – the clinic seems to have vanished without a trace.

I start by combing through old city records, looking for any mention of a Dr. Shin or Mirae Women's Clinic. Nothing. It's as if they never existed.

Next, I drive to the area the guard described. The street lined with cherry blossom trees is easy enough to find, but there's no sign of a light blue house or anything resembling a clinic. The convenience store on the corner has changed hands multiple times over the years, its current owner knowing nothing of the clinic's existence.

I spend days interviewing residents in the area, showing them a photo of Kim Eunji and asking if they remember her or the clinic. Most shake their heads, eyes wary. A few elderly neighbors vaguely recall a "women's health center," but their memories are hazy at best.

Frustrated, I turn to medical records and licensing boards, searching for any trace of Dr. Shin. The name is common, and without a full name or specific credentials, I'm left sifting through hundreds of possibilities.

I reach out to contacts in various hospitals, discreetly asking about a Dr. Shin who might have operated a small clinic over a decade ago. Most leads fizzle out quickly.

One promising tip sends me to a retired nurse who used to work in women's health. She listens to my carefully worded questions, her eyes narrowing.

"I might know something," she says cautiously, "but I need to know why you're asking. This isn't the kind of thing people discuss lightly."

I explain the situation as delicately as I can, emphasizing the importance of finding Dr. Shin for an ongoing investigation. The nurse sighs heavily.

"Look, detective. What happened back then... it wasn't black and white. There were women and girls who needed help. Doctors who provided it, knowing the risks. If Dr.

Shin was one of them, she would have gone to great lengths to protect herself and her patients."

I nod, understanding. "I'm not here to cause trouble for anyone. I just need to confirm some details about a specific case. It could make a big difference."

The nurse studies me for a long moment before scribbling something on a piece of paper. "This is a cafe. Tuesday mornings, there's a group of retired medical professionals who meet there. Dr. Shin might be among them. But I'm warning you – tread carefully.

These people have spent years guarding their secrets."

I thank her, hope rekindling. The following Tuesday, I find myself sitting in the corner of a cozy café.

As the Tuesday morning sun filters through the cafe windows, I sit in a corner booth, my third cup of coffee growing cold. I've been here for over two hours, discreetly observing the group of elderly men and women who gather weekly. Their chatter fills the air, a mix of medical jargon and personal anecdotes.

I'm starting to lose hope when a particular conversation catches my ear. An elderly woman with silver hair and kind eyes is reminiscing about her old practice.

"...and those cherry blossoms in spring, oh, they were a sight to behold," she says, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

My heartbeat quickens. Could this be Dr. Shin? I force myself to remain seated, to not rush over immediately. Patience, I remind myself. One wrong move could shut this whole lead down.

I wait, watching as the group begins to disperse. Some leave in pairs, others linger to finish their drinks. The silver-haired woman gathers her things unhurriedly, exchanging goodbyes with her companions.

As she makes her way towards the exit, I stand, timing my movement to intersect with hers near the door. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for this crucial moment.

"Excuse me," I say softly as we near each other. She looks up, curiosity in her eyes. "I couldn't help overhearing... were you perhaps talking about the clinic near the cherry blossom trees in Gangnam?"

Her expression shifts subtly – a flicker of wariness crosses her face. "I'm sorry, have we met before?" she asks, her tone carefully neutral.

I shake my head. "No, we haven't. My name is Detective Park Minjun. I was wondering if I could speak with you briefly about Mirae Women's Clinic."

The change is immediate. Her body tenses, eyes darting towards the door. For a long moment, she says nothing, and I fear I've lost my only chance.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Young man, I don't know what you're investigating, but you're treading on dangerous ground."

"I understand," I say quickly, keeping my voice low and calm. "I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'm investigating a current case, and I believe something that happened at the clinic years ago might be relevant. I'm only seeking information to help someone who may be in trouble now."

Dr. Shin – for I'm now certain it is her – studies me intently. The seconds stretch out, feeling like hours. Around us, the cafe buzzes with activity, oblivious to the tension in our quiet corner.

"If such a clinic existed," she finally says, each word measured, "you must understand that all records would have been destroyed long ago. For everyone's protection."

I nod, choosing my next words carefully. "I completely understand. I'm not looking for records. I'm hoping you might remember a specific patient. A young girl named Kim Eunji."

Dr. Shin's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. She glances around the cafe, then back at me. "This is not the place for such a conversation," she murmurs.

She hesitates for a moment longer, then seems to come to a decision. "There's a Shin across the street. If you'd like to continue this discussion, meet me by the pond in ten minutes. Come alone."

Without waiting for a response, she turns and exits the cafe. I watch her go, my heart pounding. I wait the full ten minutes, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Then, taking a deep breath, I step out of the cafe and head towards the park.

The park is quiet, save for the gentle splash of the fountain and distant chatter of children playing. Dr. Shin is sitting on a bench near the pond, her posture rigid with tension. As I approach, she motions for me to sit beside her.

"Doctor," I begin softly, "I appreciate you meeting with me. I understand the delicacy of this situation."

She nods, her eyes scanning our surroundings. "What exactly do you need to know, Detective?"

I take a deep breath. "I need confirmation that Kim Eunji was treated at your clinic. It would have been about a decade ago. She would have been a minor at the time."

Dr. Shin's face tightens. "You understand the gravity of what you're asking? The legal implications?"

"I do," I assure her. "This isn't about prosecuting past actions. It's about understanding a current situation."

There's a long pause as Dr. Shin seems to wrestle with her conscience. Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't often treat minors. It was too risky. But Eunji... I remember her clearly. She was so young, so scared. Came in with an older man - not the father, he said he was a school employee looking out for her."

My heart races. This corroborates the guard's story perfectly.

Dr. Shin continues, "I treated her. It was a difficult case, emotionally and medically. I've often wondered what became of her."

I nod, grateful for her candor. "Thank you, Doctor. This information is crucial. Can I ask-"

My words are cut off by the sharp ring of my phone. Glancing at the screen, I see it's Inspector Han.

"Excuse me," I say to Dr. Shin, then answer. "Yes, Sir?"

Han's voice comes through, tinged with urgency. "Kim Eunji's been discharged from the hospital. She's cleared for questioning. We need you back at the station ASAP."

As Dr. Shin begins to stand, I quickly interject, "Dr. Shin, before you go, would you be willing to provide your contact information? In case we need to verify any details later."

She hesitates, her hand gripping her purse tightly. "Detective, may I ask... what exactly is happening with Eunji now? Why are you investigating her past after all these years?"

I pause, weighing my options. After a moment, I decide honesty is the best approach. "Dr. Shin, Kim Eunji is currently a suspect in a murder investigation."

The color drains from Dr. Shin's face. She sinks back onto the bench, her shoulders slumping. "Murder? Eunji? That can't be..."

"We're still investigating," I say gently. "Nothing is certain yet."

Dr. Shin looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and concern. "The information I provided... how will it be used?"

I take a deep breath, knowing my answer will be difficult for her to hear. "If it comes to it, it could be used as evidence of motive against Kim Eunji."

Dr. Shin goes silent, her gaze drifting to the pond. The weight of this revelation seems to physically press down on her. After a long moment, she sighs heavily and stands.

"I think I've said enough, Detective," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I won't be providing any contact information."

As she begins to walk away, she pauses and turns back to me. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. "You know, most of the patients I treated... the ones in situations like Eunji's... They all ended up facing grim ends in one way or another. It still haunts me to this day."

With those haunting words, Dr. Shin turns and walks away, her steps slow and heavy.