Chapter Text
(No light, no light - Florence + The Machine 🎶)
Kim’s hands were trembling as he walked past the officers and patrol cars lighting up that darker, more isolated part of the city. Jeff followed close behind, clearly itching to ask questions. But all Kim could focus on was the meeting that felt like it had been scheduled long ago—by fate, it seemed.
==FLASHBACK==
Kim masked the tension with rehearsed calm. He couldn’t let the man in front of him see how shaken he really was by what had just passed between them. But Jeff, who had known him since they were teens, saw right through it.
Jeff's eyes followed Kim’s gaze for a moment… and landed on Kenta.
That was when Kim knew—he hadn’t hidden it well enough. His friend had noticed.
The group stood in silence for a few more seconds. The thread—unseen by everyone else—throbbed between Kim and Kenta like a heartbeat: thump thump; thump thump… and then, like a wave pulling back from the shore, it vanished from Kim’s perception.
That’s when he realized Kenta and the others were watching him, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. Kenta’s dark eyes locked onto his, as if trying to dive inside him, to unearth every thought, every secret he held.
The intensity of that gaze, paired with the discovery Kim had just made, left him feeling vulnerable. Exposed. He shook off the warm touch of the hand on his wrist and stood up. He had to get out of there.
==END OF FLASHBACK==
He and Jeff had just reached the black Audi parked three blocks away from the warehouse. Once inside, silence lingered heavily between them until Jeff broke it, his voice low and cautious as he watched Kim stare ahead, not even reaching for the ignition:
“I saw your face. When you looked at him.”
Kim didn’t answer right away. He shifted in his seat, closed his eyes, and sighed, letting his body sink into the driver’s seat. His hands rubbed his tense neck. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded drained, like whatever had happened back at the warehouse had pulled the energy right out of him.
“It wasn’t about the body.”
“I know.” Jeff’s voice was soft and close. He wanted Kim to feel safe enough to talk about whatever it was he saw between himself and that officer—though Jeff already had a pretty good idea. Kim wasn’t the type to keep important things bottled up, and they’d shared each other’s secrets for over a decade. Jeff knew that if Kim felt safe, he’d open up.
“You wanna tell me what it was?”
Kim hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. His throat was dry, and it felt like the words would choke him if he didn’t let them out. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, like he was afraid even the dead might hear:
“I saw a thread. Connecting us. Me and… him.”
“Shit… Officer Kenta?” Jeff had suspected something intense had happened, but not this. Kim and Kenta tied together by the red thread of fate? That wasn’t something that happened every day. Movies and shows might make it sound romantic—proof that soulmates existed—but the truth was, being bound to someone like that came with a cost. Especially for someone like Kim.
“It felt like… it had always been there. Just waiting to be seen.”
“And what does that mean?”
Kim shut his eyes again, trying to steady his voice. The swirl of emotions inside him made it feel like something was stuck in his throat.
“That he’s going to change everything... And maybe I’ll get hurt in the process.”
Jeff turned to look at him fully for the first time since they got in the car. His heart tightened at the expression on Kim’s young face.
There was pain there. Curiosity. Fear. And a strange flicker of hope.
“I wish you could cut that thread... This really couldn’t have happened at a worse time, huh? With these murders…”
Kim finally looked back at him.
“You know I can’t. Threads like this… don’t break easily.”
Jeff swallowed hard. He knew Kim was right. When fate decided something, there was no walking away from it. All he could do now was pray—ask for protection for his friend. Kim had already been through enough. Losing his parents in the worst way. Changing his name, leaving the country just to survive.
He could only hope Kim would survive this connection to that cold, serious man who clearly didn’t believe in anything Kim represented. Jeff wasn’t stupid. He saw the way that officer looked at Kim—like he thought he was a fraud.
But he couldn’t be more wrong. And Kim had him and Allan in his corner. Jeff placed a hand gently over Kim’s, which rested on the gearshift, and said:
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t let him treat you like you’re a fake. I’ll make damn sure he sees how wrong he is—gladly.”
Kim gave a tired, sideways smile. He said nothing, just buckled his seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, driving them away.
Kim needed rest. He needed clarity. Time to meditate. Things would never be the same after that night. In fact, he’d felt something shifting since the moment that girl’s spirit had appeared.
He whispered a quiet prayer to the heavens, asking for help. He had a mission ahead. Because he knew one thing for sure—Kenta Pantach wasn’t going to be an easy man to deal with.
When he’d contacted his superior, Pete, the man had warned him about Kenta’s disdain for people like Kim. Said he wasn’t an easy man, but he had a good heart.
Well, let’s hope that his heart can be strong enough...
🕯️Kenta’s Office, later that night...
Kenta sat alone. The room was dark, lit only by the glow of the streetlight seeping through the office window.
He’d waited for Babe and Charlie to finish up at the warehouse, driving silently while his partners talked quietly in the backseat about the case. They hadn’t asked him anything—both of them knew Kenta liked to think things through on his own before bringing the team in.
It was his ritual. Everyone at the precinct knew it by now. Kenta was reserved, shy even, but intensely observant. He planned his every move unless urgency demanded instinct. And even then, he stayed sharp.
Back at the precinct, he told them to start the incident report and asked to be left alone for a moment. Inside his office, he didn’t bother turning on the light. He walked straight to the cabinet, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and took a slow sip.
The drink was sharp and woody on his tongue, burning down his throat and warming his tense body. His shoulders wouldn’t relax.
He muttered under his breath, disdainfully:
“She showed me.”
The silence in the room seemed to mock him.
His mind kept replaying the scene—how Kim had pointed out the exact spot of the thread without hesitation. How he’d tensed afterward like something personal had just happened. And it had nothing to do with the dead girl lying in front of them.
Kenta furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, gripping the glass tighter.
And for just a second… he felt it. A strange weight in his chest. Something pulling at him. He didn’t understand it, but it made him restless—made his body want to move, to follow.
The feeling was so strong he opened his eyes instantly. He took another sip, shaking his head like he could chase away the thoughts haunting him like old demons.
Frustrated, he whispered:
“You’re just tired. That’s all.”
But the image of that red thread returned. And something deep inside—some sixth sense—refused to believe that explanation.
That voice echoed again, quiet but unwavering:
“She showed me.”
Kenta didn’t believe in ghosts. But that night… something had looked back at him from Kim Seo-Jun’s eyes. And for a moment, maybe—just maybe—he’d seen it too.
A soft knock sounded at his door. Kenta downed the rest of his whiskey, hid the glass in a desk drawer, and flipped on the light before opening the door.
Pete stood there, sharp eyes already scanning his face and body language. Kenta didn’t speak—just sighed and turned, knowing Pete would follow him inside.
“I already got word about the scene. Charlie and Babe are writing it up, but they gave me the basics. We’ve got a third case now?”
“Yeah. Like we didn’t want. But it’s reality, and there’s not much we can do about it.” He dropped into his chair, rubbing tired eyes with one hand and pulling his phone from his pocket with the other.
“Babe and Charlie sent me the photos of the thread and the girl. Here.” He handed over the phone. Pete stood, scrolling, his expression tightening.
“Shit. We’ve got a serial killer, don’t we? And the other two victims were about to get married or already in happy relationships. I bet the bastard did something to this girl, too…”
“Yeah. Her hair.”
Pete blinked, confused.
“Her hair? What do you mean?”
“Zoom in. Look how uneven it is—some parts hacked off shorter than others. And it’s super dry. I’m betting that red’s a recent dye job.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Pete examine the victim’s hair more closely.
“Damn… I know what you’re thinking. But that was years ago. The guy’d be too old to be doing this now.”
Kenta, still reeling from everything that had happened that night, stared at Pete, puzzled—until the realization hit him. Of course. That old case. The one that had fascinated him since the academy.
A psychopath who killed couples, altering their appearance after torturing them. It had been a media storm. And the worst case? A couple with a young child left alive. Kenta remembered staying up late with classmates, going over the case files, suspect lists, and crime scene photos…
Everyone knew how obsessed he was with that case. Even Pete. But as much as he’d read about it over the years, reopening it had always seemed impossible. And something didn’t add up now.
“I wasn’t thinking of that... He only killed couples, Pete. This guy’s not just targeting couples. And he’s leaving behind a damn red thread. Maybe he’s searching for someone? A soulmate? Or maybe… he lost one.”
“I don’t know. But there are similarities. The mutilations, the changes to the victims’ appearance. Maybe this one’s a copycat. Either way, we need the autopsy, we need to review the other two cases, and we need a psych profile. Whatever this person’s motives are, we need to prepare—especially for the press. This is gonna leak.”
“Shit.” Kenta leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. The thought of the media already made him tense. He wanted to down the whole bottle of whiskey. But he couldn’t. He had to stay sharp. Now more than ever.
“Kenta… what about Khun Seo-Jun?”
Silence.
Kenta didn’t move for several seconds. That was the question he’d been dreading.
A low groan escaped his lips. He’d rather face the entire press corps than answer Pete. But he knew the man wouldn’t leave without one.
“Kenta, you kn—”
“I let him in. Like you asked. I let him explore the scene. Like you wanted. And I listened to him. Like you told me to. And yeah, congratulations—Seo-Jun’s the one who told us the thread was in her mouth.”
“Please, Ken—” Pete reached out, but Kenta straightened, crossing his arms as he leaned back again. Pete stepped back, mirroring the gesture and raising a brow, unimpressed by the dramatics.
“No, Pete. You don’t know what it cost me to let a civilian onto my crime scene. I don’t care how many cases he’s helped with. And yeah, maybe there’s no explanation yet for how he knew about the thread. Do what you want. But I’m not going to pretend I’m happy working with him.”
His chest was heaving when he finished. Pete let the silence sit for a moment, then broke it:
“I don’t want you to pretend. Just be civil. I already knew about the thread—Babe and Charlie told me right away. I’m not asking you to believe in what Seo-Jun does. But the fact that he knew about the thread—and what happened to the victim—is impressive. You also know he was right about how the killer abducts the victims.”
Kenta opened his mouth to protest, but Pete raised a hand to stop him.
“I want him here tomorrow. I want his version of events. And I want you there too. For now, go home. You’re no good to me like this.”
Pete turned to leave, but Kenta couldn’t resist jabbing back.
“Charlie and Babe need to learn to keep their mouths shut. I was going to report to you tomorrow anyway.”
Pete didn’t flinch. Just smirked as he opened the door:
“How long did you really think you could keep that from me, Kenta? You know I’d find out either way. You’re usually smarter than this. My only real question now is… how much did Kim Seo-Jun really get to you?”
The smirk lingered as he left, and Kenta could only sit there, stunned. From the hallway, he heard Way call Pete’s name.
He didn’t want to see that man tomorrow. But it was inevitable.
Just like fate.
All he could hope now was that the medium would fail. That he wouldn’t be perfect. Then he could get him out of his precinct for good and solve this case the old-fashioned way.
🕯️A few blocks from the warehouse, after midnight.
The patrol cars sped off one after the other.
A man in worn jeans, flip-flops, and a dark hoodie watched from the shadows, leaning against a closed storefront. It was past midnight.
He watched the red and blue lights fade around the corner. A satisfied grin spread across his face. He’d seen more than expected. Especially the black Audi that followed the patrols earlier.
“Don’t worry... I’ll have another offering for you soon. This is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to bring another one to you, Khun Kim.”
He grinned to himself and decided to call it a night. He’d need rest.
The hunt would begin again soon.