The Psychopath Killer | J.JK FF

Part 1

On a stormy, rain-soaked afternoon, Kim Taehyung strolled along the slick sidewalk, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the pavement masking the sound of his footsteps.

His black scarf was tightly wrapped around his face, concealing everything except his eyes, which gleamed with a sharp, almost predatory focus.

The air was cold and damp, biting at his skin, but Taehyung barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere.

Ahead of him, standing alone under the dull glow of a flickering streetlamp, was an old telephone booth. It looked out of place-like a relic from another time-its glass panes fogged up by the chill in the air.

Taehyung stepped inside, the creak of the door barely audible under the din of the rain. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it, and dialed.

The phone rang only once before a familiar voice answered on the other end. Taehyung's lips curved into a faint, sinister smile as he spoke, his voice low and calculated.

"Jungkook," he drawled, almost as if savoring each syllable, "I know where he is."

A silence followed on the other end of the line, and Taehyung's smirk deepened. Without another word, he slammed the phone back onto the receiver, the sound reverberating inside the booth.

But instead of hanging it up gently, he let it crash against the glass, the loud clatter breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn't wait around to see if anyone noticed. With a casual turn,

Taehyung stepped out of the booth and disappeared into the rain, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

Two days later, the entire city was gripped by a dark, unnerving energy. The news was on every channel, whispered in every conversation: "A local teenager, Alex, has gone missing. No leads. The police are frantically searching."

The boy, a 12th grader from the prestigious Northside High School, had vanished without a trace. His friends were baffled, his parents devastated.

Alex was the kind of boy who followed the rules, the kind who showed up to class on time and kept out of trouble. So, when his absence was reported, it didn't take long for suspicions to arise.

That morning, the police had cordoned off a large field on the outskirts of town. The entire area was swarming with officers, their rain-soaked uniforms sticking to their bodies as they methodically combed through the muddy ground.

The scene was chaotic, with search dogs barking and officers shouting orders. But despite the frenzy, there was an ominous, suffocating quiet that hung over the field, as if the land itself knew something terrible had happened.

One officer, a seasoned detective named Park, had wandered a little farther than the others, his instincts guiding him toward an old, decrepit house near the edge of the property.

The house was a haunting sight-its windows shattered, its wooden beams sagging with age. Tall, gnarled trees twisted around the front of the house like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. Something about the place felt off, wrong in a way that made Park's skin crawl.

He stood there, staring at the house, a deep sense of unease settling in his gut. As he contemplated whether to investigate further, a sharp shout echoed from behind him.

"Detective! We've found the body!"

Park's blood ran cold. He spun around and sprinted toward the voice, his heart hammering in his chest. When he arrived, the scene before him was worse than he had imagined.

In the middle of the field, partially hidden by tall grass and mud, lay the body of Alex. His clothes were torn, his skin pale and covered in dirt.

But it was the wounds that sent a shiver down Park's spine-deep, jagged cuts ran along the boy's neck, as if the killer had taken their time, savoring every moment.

One of the officers knelt beside the body, his face ashen. "His neck... it's been cut all the way around," he whispered, barely able to keep his voice steady. "Whoever did this... they enjoyed it."