Mijin, consumed by rage after Jungkook's final victim, discovers a time-travel power within his abandoned apartment. Now, she's in the past, face-to-face with a younger, innocent Jungkook. Can Mijin rewrite his future and prevent a monster's creatio...
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"You really won't let me in?" I pleaded. My voice sounded weak, barely audible over the buzz of the lights. The officer, a tired-looking man with a gruff face, slammed his hands on the desk, blocking the entrance.
"I'm a reporter," I explained quickly. "They sent me to see him."
The officer snorted. "Doesn't matter, lady. He's a killer, responsible for hundreds. We can't have reporters poking around."
"I won't bother him," I promised. "Just let me watch from behind you. This is a huge story, something that could help stop him!"
The officer stared at me for a moment. His eyes, blue and serious, softened a little. "I said no, miss. You gotta leave, or I'll have to make you."
Frustration bubbled over. "Look," I said, throwing my hands up, "I know the chief here. You want me to call him?" It was a blatant lie, but I was at my wit's end.
The officer scoffed. "Knowing the chief doesn't change a thing, lady. And knowing Obama wouldn't get you past this door either." His sarcasm dripped like honey. "You really think-"
"What's the commotion?" came a deep voice from behind us.
"Oh, Chief," the officer started, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. "This lady claims she knows you and won't leave."
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. My heart hammered against my ribs as a handsome man with kind eyes stepped into view, the Chief himself. I braced myself, my wide, pleading eyes probably making me look desperate.
Then, something unexpected happened. The Chief looked me over, then back at the flustered officer. "Yeah, she does know me," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Why didn't you believe her?"
My jaw dropped. The officer looked like he'd swallowed a live frog. In one fell swoop, the white lie I'd blurted out in desperation had somehow become the truth. Relief flooded me, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of apprehension. Did the Chief really know me? What was I supposed to do now?
"I, uh," I stammered, momentarily speechless. "I just needed to see the suspect for a very important story." Thankfully, the Chief seemed to accept my flubbed explanation.
"Alright," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But you'll follow my instructions precisely. You'll stand in the corner behind me and stay quiet. No heroics, understand?"
This wasn't exactly how I planned to get my interview. No dramatic entrance, no chance to build rapport with the killer. But beggars can't be choosers, and right now, I was definitely begging. "Absolutely," I said, my voice regaining its strength. "Thank you, Chief."
The officer mumbled something under his breath, but the Chief's stern gaze silenced him. With a deep breath, I followed them into the sterile interrogation room, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind me.
