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

The interrogation room feels suffocating, its stark walls closing in as I face two stern-faced Internal Affairs officers. Seo sits to the side, his expression a mask of professional neutrality. The senior IA officer, Detective Kang, begins the questioning, his voice crisp and unyielding.

"Detective, walk us through the events following your departure from the scene with Detective Pyo."

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "I was driving Detective Pyo to the hospital. En route, I noticed suspicious movement in an alley. Given the circumstances of our operation, I felt compelled to investigate."

Kang's partner, Officer Jung, interjects sharply. "Without backup? And abandoning an injured colleague?"

Seo shifts in his seat, looking like he wants to speak up, but he restrains himself, maintaining his impartial stance.

I wince at Jung's words. "I... I made a split-second decision. I believed I might lose a crucial lead if I delayed."

Kang leans forward, his eyes boring into mine. "And this decision led you to leave Detective Pyo, who was in need of immediate medical attention, alone in your vehicle?"

The weight of my mistake hits me anew. "Yes," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think through the implications at the time."

Seo clears his throat. "It's worth noting that the suspect was indeed in the vicinity—"

Kang holds up a hand, cutting him off. "Chief Seo, we appreciate your input, but please allow us to conduct the questioning."

Seo nods, settling back in his chair. I can see the conflict in his eyes – wanting to defend his detective, but bound by the need for an impartial investigation.

Jung takes over. "Upon locating the suspect, what actions did you take?"

I swallow hard. "I observed him standing over another victim. I moved to subdue him."

"Subdue?" Kang's voice drips with skepticism. "Multiple witnesses report seeing you repeatedly striking the suspect after he was already restrained. How do you explain this discrepancy?"

The memory of my loss of control floods back, shame washing over me. "I... I lost my temper. The situation was intense, and I reacted... inappropriately."

"Inappropriately?" Jung scoffs. "That's a rather mild term for what amounts to police brutality, wouldn't you say?"

I can't meet their eyes. "You're right. I have no excuse for my actions. I let my emotions override my training and ethics."

Seo shifts again, looking pained. "The suspect had just attacked another victim. Surely we can understand the emotional toll—"

Kang interrupts once more. "Chief Seo, while we respect your position, we must insist on maintaining objectivity here."

The questioning continues relentlessly. Every decision I made is dissected, every error magnified under the harsh light of scrutiny.

"Let's return to Detective Pyo," Jung says. "You left her bleeding in your car to chase a lead. Did you consider the risk to her life?"

The full impact of my neglect hits me like a physical blow. "I... I was so focused on catching the killer. I didn't think about... I should have prioritized her safety. There's no justification for my failure there."

Kang nods grimly. "No, there isn't. Your actions put a fellow officer's life at risk. Not to mention the potential compromise of the entire operation."

The interrogation stretches on for what feels like hours. Each question peels back another layer of my mistakes, leaving me raw and exposed. I answer as honestly as I can, but with each response, the magnitude of my errors becomes more apparent.

Finally, Kang sits back, exchanging glances with Jung and Seo. "I think we have enough for our initial report. Detective, you are suspended pending a full investigation into your conduct. Please surrender your badge and firearm."

The finality of those words hits me hard. With shaking hands, I remove my badge and place it on the table, followed by my service weapon.

As I stand to leave, Seo speaks up, his voice gentle but firm. "We caught the rain-day killer. That's something. But the methods... the cost..." He shakes his head. "That's on you to reconcile."

I nod silently and exit the room, the door closing behind me with a sound of finality. The case that has consumed me for months is closed, but as I step into the hallway, I realize that my personal reckoning is just beginning.

The weight of my actions settles on my shoulders like a physical burden. I've caught a killer, but in doing so, I've jeopardized everything I stand for as a police officer. As I walk through the station, colleagues averting their eyes, I wonder if this is a stain I'll ever be able to wash away.

As I push through the station doors, the cool night air hits my face, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the interrogation room. The rain has finally stopped, leaving behind a world washed clean, but I feel anything but purified.

My mind replays the events of the night, focusing on that moment when I lost control. The anger I felt was justified, wasn't it? That man had caused so much pain, taken so many lives. But beneath the rage, there was something else - a sensation I'm reluctant to acknowledge.

A release. A dark joy.

The realization sends a chill down my spine. Is this what Manson and the other killers were talking about? The thrill of violence, the intoxicating rush of power? The thought that I might share something in common with them turns my stomach.

I pause under a streetlight, its glow creating a small island of visibility in the damp darkness. Is this darkness something I was born with, a latent trait waiting to emerge? Or is it a result of my prolonged exposure to the minds of killers? The line between investigation and contamination suddenly seems blurry.

I realize that Manson's voice, usually so eager to comment, has been silent these past few days. The absence is both a relief and oddly unsettling. Have I finally shaken free of his influence, or have I simply internalized it?

The weight of my suspension settles on me anew. I joined the force with a purpose - to reopen my parents' case, to finally uncover the truth about their deaths. Now, that goal seems further away than ever. My badge is gone, my credibility in tatters. How can I hope to investigate anything when I'm the subject of an investigation myself?

It's not just not ideal - it's a disaster.

I drive through the quiet streets, the city's nightlife subdued in the aftermath of the rain. The neon signs of my grandmother's restaurant come into view, a familiar beacon in my tumultuous night. As I push open the door, the warm aroma of home-cooked food envelops me, but it's a solitary figure at the bar that catches my eye.

Han sits there, nursing a bottle of soju, his shoulders slumped in a way I've never seen before. For a moment, I hesitate, but then I make my way over and slide onto the stool beside him.

Without a word, Han pours a shot of soju and slides it in front of me. We drink in silence, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind. After a few shots, Han finally speaks.

"Heard what happened," he says, his voice low. "Word travels fast in our circles."

I stare into my empty glass, shame washing over me anew. "I'm sorry," I mutter. "I really messed up."

To my surprise, Han chuckles softly. "You know, it might actually be the best thing that could've happened."

I look up, confused. "What do you mean?"

Han takes another shot before answering. "I've been transferred. Gwangju Metropolitan Police."

The implications hit me immediately. Gwangju - practically the other end of the country. A posting like that is usually reserved for those who've fallen out of favor.

"Han, I'm so sorry," I start, but he waves me off.

"Don't be. It is what it is. But here's the thing - I've got authority to form my own team down there." He turns to face me fully, a glint in his eye that I haven't seen in a long time. "And I want you on it."

I blink, struggling to process his words. "Me? But I'm suspended. Under investigation."

Han shrugs. "Perfect time for a fresh start, don't you think? Away from all this." He gestures vaguely, encompassing the city beyond the restaurant walls.

Han pours another round, his eyes never leaving mine. "You don't have to decide right now. But think about it. Sometimes, the best way forward is to change direction entirely."

I stare into my glass, the soju reflecting the dim light of the restaurant. The weight of the day, of my actions, and of Han's unexpected offer press down on me. For a long moment, silence hangs between us.

Then, almost surprising myself, I hear my own voice. "Yes."

Han looks up, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Yes?"

I nod, feeling a strange mix of relief and trepidation wash over me. "Yes, I'll join your team in Gwangju."

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