Fear:
An unpleasant emotion that courses through the nerves of your brain caused by the apparent threat of danger, pain, or harm.
Everyone has a fear. Fear of the dark, Fear of heights, fear of change, fear of stopping, and the list never ends. Some...
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"The seventh victim of the Busan serial-killer was found in the same alley. The victim was said to be patrolling at night when this tragic incident took place. Will the police catch this killer or will there be another murder?" shouted a reporter with a camera zoomed to her face. The hood of the wind sheeter bearing droplets of water as they fell at the top of her head. Her eyes squinted as she attempted to look straight at the camera as she spoke. She stood a few meters ahead of the crime scene while she narrated all she knew.
It was raining, the sky was grey and dull. The rain hitting the shutters of the shops nearby violently while a family sobbed hysterically at the loss of a father and a husband with the police running around making calls and amends, and the presses persistently shouting out questions that were left unanswered by the officers.
Detective Jae-Joong bent down to fit his tall form under the barricade tape to see the crime scene up close. The loud noise of rain on this exceptionally rainy day forced him to yell out his words.
"Let me guess, no sign of struggle!" the detective asked.
They had gotten not one step ahead. All the clues they found led them to a dead-end. Not that they had many.
The forensic investigator shook her head in disappointment. They had gotten used to this at this point. The only reason this case was still a matter of concern to them was that the media and the people of Korea had gotten to know of the cases. This killer was too clever to keep up he was always a step ahead. Although all the officers were sure that there was no one helping him from the inside, they still wondered, how?
The police tried but there was nothing more to him. There were countless nights where the entire precinct took an all-nighter at the office. However, they couldn't make out why he was doing this. They couldn't make out anything unless this mysterious killer had a fetish to tie a zip tie around ring fingers or to rupture lungs. All they knew was that he wanted everyone to know it was him and him alone.
The 'JJK' on the foreheads was carved for a reason. It held more value than it put out. It was a brand. They were his. He wanted everyone to know that he killed these people. They were his possession even if they were dead. Their corpse, their last breath were his. Only his.
"All I know is that the time was death was around twelve o'clock to around three o'clock in the morning" she stood up her head tilted downwards examining the body from a height as she cracked her fingers, wind sheeter covering her head just like the reporter who continued to yell out information.
"Did we get access to the security cameras?" asked the detective. "Yes sir, we did, this way" spoke one of his deputies as he led the way under the tape, across the street, and beneath a loud shutter.
They walked towards the shade of the old cafe opposite the crime scene. A chubby boy sat in front of a PC wearing glasses with a cold drink within his fingers as his arm rested on the steel table before him. He shifted his gaze to his superior who gave him a nod.
