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

I stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. My eyes scan the faces in the crowd, and for a moment, I'm struck by a unsettling thought: how many of these people might have voices in their heads too? How many cops, lawyers, judges, or everyday citizens are walking around with the whispers of history's most infamous killers echoing in their minds?

The light changes, and I start walking again, my pace quickening unconsciously. If this is true, if there are others like me out there, it raises so many questions. Are they all in law enforcement? Or could some be in other professions where the insights of a twisted mind might be perversely useful?

I think about my colleagues at the precinct. Could any of them be harboring their own versions of Aileen or Bundy? The idea is both fascinating and terrifying. It could explain some of the uncanny intuitions I've witnessed over the years, the seemingly impossible leaps of logic that crack cases wide open.

But then, a darker thought intrudes. What if not all of these voices are benign? What if some are still whispering encouragement towards violence, towards satisfying dark urges? Could this explain some of the inexplicable brutality we sometimes see, even from those sworn to protect and serve?

As I round the corner and see my grandmother's restaurant come into view, I'm no closer to answers. Instead, I'm left with a growing sense of unease. If Aileen is right, if she's been in other heads before, then I'm part of something much larger and more complex than I ever imagined.

As I step into the familiar warmth of my grandmother's restaurant, my eyes immediately land on a familiar figure. Kang is sitting at a corner table, his posture relaxed but alert.

Instinctively, I straighten up and approach him. "Good afternoon, sir," I say, offering a respectful nod.

Kang looks up, his expression impassive. "Lose the formality, please," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I prefer to be unbothered."

I feel my cheeks flush slightly. "Of course, I apologize. Enjoy your meal."

Leaving Kang to his solitude, I make my way to the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of my grandmother's cooking envelops me.

My grandmother looks up from the stove, her face lighting up with a warm smile. "Ah, there you are! Would you like something to eat?"

I shake my head, returning her smile. "I'm fine, thanks. Actually, I'm here because I'm planning to buy a car. I need some family information for the insurance paperwork."

She pauses, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "A car? Why do you need one now?"

I shrug, trying to sound casual. "It's time, I think. Plus, I was hoping to take you out more often. You work so hard; you deserve to enjoy your free time too."

My grandmother's eyes soften at my words. Suddenly, she bustles over to a drawer, rummaging through it before pulling out a small book. She presses it into my hands.

"What's this?" I ask, opening it to find a bank book with a balance of about 20 million won.

"It's money I've been saving for you," she explains, her voice filled with emotion. "In case you ever needed it. I want you to have it now, for your car."

I stare at the bank book, overwhelmed by her generosity. "Grandmother, I can't accept this. It's too much."

But she's already shaking her head, her expression firm. "No, I insist. You're my only grandson, and I want to do this for you."

I feel a lump forming in my throat, touched by her selflessness. "Grandmother, I..."

She pats my hand gently. "No arguments. Use it for your car, and then you can take me on all those trips you're planning."

As I stand there, the bank book in my hands, I'm struck by the contrast between the dark, twisted world I've been dealing with at work and the pure, unconditional love of my grandmother. It's a poignant reminder of why I do what I do, why I fight to make the world a little safer.

With a mix of gratitude and determination, I carefully tuck the bank book into my pocket. "Thank you," I say softly. "I promise I'll make good use of it."

My grandmother beams at me before turning back to her cooking. As I watch her, I silently vow to not only use this gift wisely but to make sure she gets to enjoy the fruits of her hard work and generosity.

As I'm about to ask my grandmother for the family information I need, my phone buzzes insistently in my pocket. I fish it out, seeing Han's name on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answer, stepping away from the busy kitchen.

Han's voice comes through, tense and urgent. "I need you to come to the unit right away."

My pulse quickens at his tone. "Of course, I'm on my way."

Ending the call, I turn back to my grandmother. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Work emergency."

She nods understandingly, though I can see a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Be careful," she says, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.

"I will," I promise, tucking the bank book safely into my jacket pocket. "And thank you again. We'll talk more about this later."

As I make my way out of the kitchen, I pause, my eyes landing on Kang still seated in the corner. For a moment, I consider going over to say goodbye, to let him know I'm leaving. But remembering his earlier words about preferring to be unbothered, I decide against it.

Instead, I simply give a slight bow in his direction, our eyes meeting briefly. There's a flicker of something - recognition, perhaps understanding - in his gaze, but he makes no move to acknowledge me further.

With a final nod, I push open the restaurant door and step out into the bustling street.

***

"Take a seat," Han says as I enter his office, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Han leans forward, his hands clasped on the desk. "I've got an opportunity for you," he begins. "The National Forensic Service has offered to host one of our detectives for a few days. It's a chance to learn about their work, see their processes firsthand."

I blink, surprised. This wasn't what I was expecting at all.

Han continues, "Every year, we send a few members to the NFS. This year, our team has decided to send you."

A mix of emotions washes over me - surprise, honor, and a touch of reluctance. "I'm grateful for the opportunity, sir," I begin carefully. "It's a great honor. But..."

"But?" Han prompts, raising an eyebrow.

I take a deep breath. "I'd rather stay with the unit, sir. Work on our ongoing cases. There's still so much to do with the Zen gang investigation, and I feel I could be more useful here."

Han nods, as if he expected this response. "I understand your enthusiasm for the work here. It's one of the reasons we chose you for this opportunity. But I believe it would be beneficial for you to go to the NFS."

He leans back in his chair. "Learning their methods, understanding their processes - it'll make you a better detective. And it's good for your future career. The connections you make there could be invaluable down the line."

I consider his words carefully. Han has always looked out for my best interests, and I trust his judgment. Still, the thought of stepping away from our current cases is difficult.

"Think of it this way," Han adds, seeing my hesitation. "The skills you learn there could help us solve cases more efficiently in the future. It's an investment in your abilities and, by extension, in our team's capabilities."

Put that way, I can see the logic in his argument. And despite my reservations, I can't deny that the opportunity to work with the NFS is exciting.

Finally, I nod. "You're right, sir. I'll go."

Han's face breaks into a rare smile. "Good. You'll leave tomorrow morning. I'll have all the details sent to you shortly."

As I stand to leave, I feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. This wasn't what I expected when I rushed here, but it could be the start of something important. Whatever I learn at the NFS, I'm determined to bring it back and use it to become an even better detective.

"Thank you for this opportunity, sir," I say as I reach the door.

Han nods. "Make the most of it. We'll be here when you get back."

With that, I step out of his office, my mind already racing with thoughts of what the next few days might bring.