The police station. The Vice Department.
The usual chaos reigned in the room: stacks of papers, monitors displaying frozen images of missing persons' faces, cups of cold coffee. The air was thick with the smell of dust, ink, and exhaustion.
At one of the desks, buried under piles of folders, sat Xin Shi. Her dark hair was hastily tied back into a ponytail, and the shadows under her eyes betrayed sleepless nights. Her fingers nervously shuffled through the reports, her eyes darting across the lines as if trying to pry some clue from them.
At the neighboring desk, hunched over a computer, sat Lao Han. His face, as always, remained expressionless. He methodically scrolled through databases, comparing details from recent abductions.
The silence was broken by Xin Shi's sharp sigh.
"The motives for the abductions, the motives for the abductions..." She clenched her fists. "Damn it, why would he—or they—do this?!"
"First, the motives for the murders," Lao Han corrected. "Second, you're right—we still haven't determined whether it's one person or a group."
Xin Shi rolled her eyes and leaned back sharply in her chair.
"Enough already! If these were murders, you wouldn't be babysitting me in the Vice Department!"
"I appreciate your optimism, but stop ignoring the facts," he said without blinking. Xin Shi smirked sarcastically:
"Facts? That's the most pessimistic assumption, not a fact!"
Lao Han pushed his chair back. He slowly raised his indifferent gaze and, after a breath, continued:
"Fine, I'll adjust my approach. What are the motives?"
"As we've already established, it's definitely not money, so that's one motive down," she said, running a hand over her face as she gathered her thoughts.
"If the motive isn't money, then this isn't just an abduction."
After his conclusion, she rubbed her eyes and gave him a skeptical look.
"If you think it's not just an abduction, do you have any other possible motives in mind?"
"I do. More than one. From revenge to obsession," Lao Han said, his voice hollow, as if echoing from the far end of a tunnel. Xin Shi frowned and clarified:
"Revenge I can understand, but what does obsession have to do with it? Obsession with what? Obsession with abducting people?"
Lao Han slowly lifted his head. His eyes, cold and sharp as a blade, met hers.
"Obsession with killing."
Silence hung between them, thick as smog. Xin Shi clenched her fingers and spoke in an uncertain tone:
"...I've got another possible motive..."
"If you're talking about pedophilia or rape, that's also a possibility, but one thing doesn't add up: why abduct an entire family for that?" Lao Han smirked, but there wasn't a trace of warmth in his smile. Xin Shi flicked a strand of hair back irritably and whispered sharply:
"How are we supposed to know what's going on in this kidnapper's head?"
Lao Han rose unhurriedly, his tall frame momentarily blocking the light, casting a shadow over the monitor and leaving the desk in semi-darkness. He paused for a second, as if letting his eyes adjust to the change in lighting, then straightened to his full height.
Taking a few measured steps toward the boards, he stopped in front of them, studying their contents. One board was empty—clean, as if waiting for new thoughts, new leads. The other, standing four steps from his workstation, was covered with photos of the missing: faces frozen in time, staring at him with silent questions.
He reached out and picked up a red marker. His fingers gripped it with practiced ease, as if it were an extension of his hand. On the white surface, he drew a few sharp lines, sketching a stick figure.
Then he circled the head—a thick loop, as if highlighting something important, something hidden. The marker then dropped sharply downward, leaving behind an arrow pointing straight into the drawn head.
Finally, he turned his gaze away from the board and said in a cold tone:
"Xin Shi, figuring out what's in a killer's head is our job."
She bit her lip, then exhaled sharply.
"You're right, it is our job. But assuming these are murders is still too early. We don't even have circumstantial evidence, let alone bodies."
Lao Han returned to his workstation and dropped into his chair, leaning back. With a sharp motion, he flung the marker onto the desk. The plastic casing clattered against the surface, bounced, and spun before rolling to the very edge, nearly falling off.
"Fine, then let's think about who could've done this," he said, waiting for a response. Xin Shi, pausing for a moment, replied:
"If we consider the fact that the missing are all connected to basketball in some way, then the most likely suspect is one of the managers."
"Why just a manager? What about the players?" Lao Han frowned slightly, and she turned sharply toward him:
"...Maybe because none of them have anything to gain?"
Lao Han let out a dry, unnatural laugh, like the crackling of paper.
"Don't ignore possible facts. Kids aren't as innocent as people think, especially teenagers."
"Think about it yourself—what teenager is capable of abducting an entire family? We should be looking at people with some kind of influence."
Lao Han buried himself in the papers on his desk.
"If we take the basketball connection into account, we should remember that basketball players are strong, but we shouldn't overlook those who rely on intellect over strength."
"Alright, let's take this step by step." Xin Shi stood up, then, gathering her thoughts, continued. "You think a player, whoever he is, suddenly started abducting—or, as you put it, 'killing'—and if he's so smart, why wouldn't he just beat them up? Why complicate things? The manager theory makes way more sense—he's the only one with a logical motive for abductions and even 'murders.'"
Lao Han slowly lifted his eyes.
"This isn't just a smart person. We're dealing with someone smart without limits."
"Uh... what does that mean?"
"Look, even smart people—even those with selfish motives—have limits imposed by morality and fear. A truly intelligent player would act like this: he'd intimidate his victim and only resort to violence as a last resort. He wouldn't resort to kidnapping because of the panic it would cause, and speaking of selfish motives—panic in the form of breaking the law..." As Lao Han's voice trailed off slightly, Xin Shi abruptly interrupted him:
"Wait, how can morality and fear limit such an action?"
"I'm not finished yet, hear me out." Lao Han paused briefly, straightening the papers on the table. Then, lifting his empty gaze back to her, he continued. "A truly intelligent person might even pull off a kidnapping or even a murder, but his problem would be that he'd start panicking. He wouldn't be able to handle the pressure—either from worrying about leaving evidence behind or even the pressure from his own conscience."
Xin Shi gave him a skeptical look:
"And how is that different from an smart person without limits?"
"It's simple—he lacks emotions, conscience, compassion, and instead possesses extreme self-confidence and self-control."
"Those are just the traits of a psychopath," Xin Shi rolled her eyes. "They're known for their emotional detachment and overconfidence, unlike regular geniuses."
"The point of my monologue isn't for you to distinguish between a regular genius and a psychopathic genius—the point is something else." Lao Han flashed a deliberately mocking grin. "Their weaknesses."
Xin Shi sat down on the table indignantly, causing the wooden legs to creak pitifully under her weight. She nervously moved her hands to brush the unruly dark strands from her face, and slammed her palm down on the table.
"Weaknesses?" Her voice, usually calm and mocking, now rang taut like a stretched string. "If you're suggesting we should just wait until they become overconfident and slip up after, say, their two-hundredth murder, then that's insane!"
Lao Han folded his hands neatly in front of him, his fingers lightly tapping against each other.
"You're letting emotions guide you again. Use logic—what am I trying to tell you?"
"How the hell should I know?! Just say it outright!" Her voice rose sharply, and she nearly jumped up from the table.
"I'll give you one guess. You're an investigator too, after all." He paused, watching as her fingers clenched into fists. "But if you don't get it right and I have to tell you the answer, then you'll have to fetch me coffee three times in the next 24 hours."
Xin Shi froze, her eyes widening.
"I've never seen you this shameless before..."
"Going to guess, or do you want the answer right away?"
She exhaled sharply and stood up from the table.
"Fine, I'll try... we study this type of genius's weakness to prevent the next kidnapping and catch him that way?"
"Wrong."
"Damn it, alright—prevent the next murder, happy now?"
"Still wrong."
Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"Then what? And don't tell me we've just been wasting time!"
"What we've been doing is constructing a hypothetical psychological profile." Lao Han laced his fingers together, and Xin Shi stiffened, unsure what emotion to settle on.
Her lips twitched in an expression caught between anger and bewilderment.
"...Then why the hell didn't you just say so from the start?! I could've added more details, and we'd have cracked the case faster!!!"
"Someone's got to bring me coffee, right?" Lao Han smirked, this time openly. Xin Shi glared at him, struggling to force out words.
"Y-you...!"
But Lao Han just waved his hand dismissively.
"You can bring me coffee later. Right now, back to business—any new details?"
"We were working on that yesterday!"
At her remark, he reached for a stack of papers, pulled out a single sheet, and handed it to her.
"There's one crucial distinction we need to piece together."
Xin Shi snatched the paper, her eyes scanning the text.
"What distinction?"
"You gathered all available details on the kidnapping cases, while I've been sorting through possible details on the murders."
"So you're saying if we combine my facts with your theories, we'll get something?"
Lao Han abruptly stood up and walked over to the nearby board covered in victims' photos. Then he reached out and traced his finger along a bright red thread connecting the images in an intricate web.
"Right now, we both have theories. The disappearances are confirmed, but there are no traces—not even indirect ones. But for the murders, even if unconfirmed, there might be indirect leads."
Xin Shi fell silent, her gaze sweeping over the crime map.
"Fine, I'll go get the report."
She had already turned toward the archive cabinet when the office door burst open.
"Hey, Lao Han, Xin Shi—check the news!" A young officer stood in the doorway, his face pale.
Xin Shi turned.
"Huh?"
Lao Han didn't even look up.
"No point. Unless it's a new case, the news doesn't concern us."
But the officer had already switched on the wall-mounted TV.
Xin Shi stared at the screen.
"Look..."
...
"Breaking news!"
The news studio appeared on-screen, a digital banner in the background displaying the emergency broadcast logo and the headline: Supermarket Terror Attack. Kidnapping Spree: Any Connection? The anchor, dressed in a formal suit, spoke with restrained tension.
"Yesterday's parking lot fire at a local supermarket, initially dismissed as accidental, has now been confirmed as a planned attack. The investigative division of the National Police Agency has just confirmed that a firecracker detonated beneath one of the vehicles, though it may have been a more sophisticated explosive device."
Security footage played on the screen—flames erupting near a blue sedan, followed by a series of small explosions. A slowed-down replay showed the fire rapidly spreading across a gasoline spill.
"Authorities first believed the cause was a fuel leak from a damaged tank and a discarded cigarette. However, experts have identified traces of a firecracker. The explosion was designed to mimic an accidental fire, but the precision of the detonation points to a professional."
Footage from the hospital. A girl with a blurred-out face lies on a bed.
"The only victim is a 22-year-old girl who suffered severe burns. Her identity has not been disclosed. Police do not rule out that she may have been the intended target."
The shot changes. On the screen—photos of five missing teenagers: Hee Rak; So Ho; So Yeon; Suk Chon; Guk Chhol.
"Meanwhile, a series of mysterious disappearances involving teenage basketball players continues to keep all of Seoul on edge. Five have gone missing in the past month, and not a single one has been found. The criminal, dubbed the 'The Basketball Abductor' by the media, operates flawlessly: there's been no ransom, no negotiations, not even a hint of motive."
Graphics: A map of Seoul with markers indicating the schools the missing teens attended.
"Investigators suspect the abductions may be linked to illegal organ trafficking or forced labor, but there's no evidence or leads."
Pause. The anchor shuffles his papers, his voice growing sharper.
"Parents are demanding answers, but police admit this is the most challenging case in years. If an organization is behind this—why are there no leaks? If it's a lone maniac—how does he pinpoint his victims so precisely?"
Final shot: Nighttime Seoul, neon lights, with a hotline number for tips scrolling at the bottom.
"Stay tuned to this channel. As soon as new details emerge, you'll be the first to know."
...
Back at the Vice Department. Xin Shi turns sharply, nearly bumping into a clerk rushing by with a stack of documents. She doesn't slow down until she stops in front of Lao Han's desk.
"Five teenagers?" Her voice was sharp, like a blade. "Did they happen to forget anyone, huh?"
Lao Han, without looking away from his monitor, ran a hand over his chin, feeling the stubble. He disliked sloppy casework but hated it even more when someone tried to sugarcoat reality.
"The lieutenant reported exactly five missing teenagers." His fingers hovered over the keyboard. "He wouldn't ruin his reputation and scare the public by admitting that an entire family has vanished while our department remains powerless."
Xin Shi spun toward him, her dark eyes flashing.
"Worrying about reputation when there's an unsolved case right under our noses?!"
Lao Han finally tore his gaze from the screen and looked at her. His expression showed no irritation—just weary understanding.
"Playing politics and managing the department's reputation is also part of being a cop who wants a promotion." He reached for his cup of now-cold coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. "But for now, our priority is the missing people."
Xin Shi rolled her eyes but nodded.
"Okay, we were working on the psychological profile—"
"Wait." Lao Han suddenly raised a hand, as if catching something in the air. "There's something we need to check."
"Hm?" She frowned.
Lao Han pushed the keyboard aside and turned to face her fully.
"Do you think this terror attack is connected to any group or movement? Did anyone go missing around the same time? And do you even remember the last time Seoul had a terror attack?"
Xin Shi froze, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
"What does the terrorist attack have to do with the abductions?"
"It might be the same group—or the same person behind it."
She fell silent, sifting through the details in her mind.
"Hmm, if you think about it that way… then yes, this attack has no ideological or symbolic meaning…"
Lao Han was already reaching for the phone when the door burst open, and the watchman walked in, holding a folder.
"No reports yet," he began, "but a school called to say they couldn't reach one of their students or his parents."
Lao Han stood up so abruptly that his chair rolled back.
"Who's the student?"
"Kai Rin Wu. But his family isn't answering either."
"Find out where his parents work."
The watchman shrugged.
"Why are you so tense? It's just one day without contact..."
Lao Han took a sharp step forward, and the watchman instinctively flinched back.
"Just one day? Every second counts here."
"Fine, I'll bring the report later." The watchman hastily retreated.
Xin Shi grabbed Lao Han's sleeve as he headed for the exit.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"When you get the report on the new missing persons, link them to the others." He pulled his arm free. "I need to follow a lead."
"Hey! Care to explain what lead?"
Lao Han was already at the door but turned back.
"I'll explain when I have it. For now, focus on the report."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Outside, the roar of an engine shattered the street's silence. Lao Han turned the ignition key, and the gray Hyundai shuddered to life under his hands. The model wasn't new—time had left its mark in the bumper's scratches and the door handle's wear.
Lao Han gripped the wheel as if trying to squeeze answers from it. The leather cover creaked under his fingers. He hit the gas, and the car growled, lurching from the police station's parking lot. The tires whispered against the asphalt, leaving faint marks on the empty lot.
The sedan rolled smoothly onto the main road, where sparse headlights flickered like lonely flames. Traffic lights cycled—green, yellow, red—but the streets were nearly deserted. Lao Han drove past several blocks, his gaze sliding over the dark windows of houses hiding strangers' lives. Finally, he slowed near the NIS building's parking lot. The car stilled, the engine growling briefly before dying, plunging the street back into silence.
National Intelligence Service Headquarters.
The building stood as impenetrable as ever—thick concrete walls, narrow windows with tinted glass, cold floodlights revealing only patches of asphalt near the entrance. Lao Han stepped into the yellow glow, adjusted his coat collar, and moved toward the door.
The watchman at the desk glanced up without looking away from his monitor. Lines of a report flickered on-screen, a red dot blinking silently in the corner—an alarm signal. Lao Han placed his documents in front of the guard and stepped back, clasping his hands behind him. His fingers tapped lightly against his knuckles—a habit from his service days.
"Good evening. I need to meet with Ko Yunho. Notify him of my arrival."
The guard lazily reached for the phone, dialing without looking up. He checked the stamps, skimmed the photo, then nodded.
"Okay, wait."
Lao Han didn't sit. He remained by the wall, watching as the guard returned to his screen. Minutes dragged. Somewhere inside, an elevator hummed; footsteps echoed beyond the wall—quick, precise, military. He closed his eyes, listening as if trying to pick out the steps of the man he was waiting for.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened.
Ko Yunho entered unhurriedly, rolling up his sleeves. His light chestnut hair fell to his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips—but his gaze remained cold, assessing.
"Long time no see, Lao Han."
Lao Han nodded but didn't return the smile. His eyes flicked to the hallway behind Yunho, as if checking for unwanted listeners.
"Yes. But I'm here on business."
Ko Yunho smirked, adjusting his tie.
"Always so direct."
Lao Han paused, then pulled a folded file from his inner pocket. He unfolded it without breaking eye contact.
"There's a connection in my case. A link to the recent terrorist attack. A family's gone missing, and I think it's related."
Ko Yunho's smile faded. His fingers tightened on the folder's edge, but he didn't take it, only leaned closer to scan the documents.
"Alright, let's go to the office."