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

Chapter 22: Jung (4)



The address listed for Lee So-hyun isn't the same as Jung's, the man I met at the apartment just hours ago. It's a different location entirely, one that I'm not familiar with.

Feeling a sense of urgency and trepidation, I decide to visit Lee So-hyun's apartment, hoping to find some clue or answer to the mystery that's unfolding before me.

As I arrive at the address, I'm struck by the eerie stillness that hangs over the building. The lights are off in Lee So-hyun's apartment, and there's no sign of movement or life from within.

I make my way to the mailbox, my heart pounding as I pull out a stack of unopened bills and letters. It's a clear sign that no one has been home for some time, and the realization sends a chill down my spine.

With a growing sense of unease, I approach Lee So-hyun's door and ring the bell, hoping against hope that someone will answer. But the only response is a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of my own racing heart.

I try the door handle, and to my surprise, it turns easily in my hand. The door swings open, revealing a dark and eerily still interior.

As I step inside, I'm immediately assaulted by a foul and pungent odor, one that makes my stomach churn and my eyes water. I try to turn on the light, but the switch doesn't work, and I realize with a sinking feeling that the power has been cut.

Suddenly, Bundy's voice echoes in my mind, his tone dripping with a perverse sort of glee. "Well, well, well," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver down my spine. "That smell, Park? That's the stench of death. Of a body left to rot and decay."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding as I realize that he's right. The smell is unmistakable, the sickly sweet odor of decomposition and decay.

With a sense of dread and determination, I make my way deeper into the apartment, using the flashlight on my phone to guide my way. And as I open the door to one of the rooms, I feel my blood run cold at the sight that greets me.

There, lying on the floor in a pool of congealed blood and filth, is the body of a man. His face is contorted in a mask of pain and terror, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.

With trembling hands, I pull out my phone and dial Officer Dong's number, my heart pounding as I wait for him to answer. When he finally picks up, I waste no time in explaining the situation, my voice shaking with a mix of fear and urgency.

"Officer Dong," I say, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm at Lee So-hyun's apartment, and there's a dead body here. A man, lying in a pool of blood. I don't know who he is, but I think his death is connected to Lee So-hyun's disappearance."

I can hear Dong's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of rustling papers and urgent voices. "Stay where you are, Park," he says, his tone firm and authoritative. "Don't touch anything, and don't leave the scene. I'm sending a team over right now."

I nod, even though he can't see me, and quickly snap a few photos of the gruesome scene with my phone, just in case. I know that I'm not here in an official capacity, but I can't shake the feeling that every piece of evidence could be crucial in solving this twisted mystery.

As I wait for Dong and his team to arrive, I find myself fighting the urge to rummage through the apartment, to search for any clue or hint that might shed light on the dead man's identity or Lee So-hyun's fate. But I force myself to stop, reminding myself that I'm not here as an officer, and that I can't risk tainting the scene or compromising the investigation.

Just as I'm about to step outside to wait for the police, my phone buzzes with an incoming message. It's from my grandmother, and my heart leaps into my throat as I read her words.

"On my way to Jung's with some side dishes and homemade food," the message reads, followed by a series of emojis that would normally make me smile.

But now, all I feel is a sense of panic and dread. I try to call my grandmother back, my fingers shaking as I dial her number, but the call goes straight to voicemail.

I try again and again, my heart pounding faster with each unanswered ring. Something deep inside me, some primal instinct that I can't quite name, is screaming at me that Jung is connected to all of this somehow. That he's not safe to be around, and that my grandmother could be walking into terrible danger.

Without thinking, I start to run towards Jung's house, my feet pounding against the pavement as I race through the streets. But before I can get more than a few blocks, I feel a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

It's Officer Dong, his face etched with concern and authority. "Park," he says, his voice low and serious. "You can't leave the scene. You're a witness now, and technically, a suspect as well."

I open my mouth to protest, to explain the situation with my grandmother and the terrible fear that's gnawing at my gut. But Dong cuts me off, his expression softening slightly as he sees the desperation in my eyes.

"I understand," he says, his hand still firm on my shoulder. "But you have to let us handle this. I'll send someone over to Jung's house right away, to check on him and your grandmother. But you need to stay here and give your statement, for the sake of the investigation."

I nod, my heart still racing but my mind clearing slightly as I realize the wisdom in his words. I know that I can't help my grandmother or solve this mystery if I'm locked up in a cell somewhere, or worse.

And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of grim determination, I follow Officer Dong back to the apartment, ready to face whatever horrors and revelations the night may bring.


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