The morning sun felt too bright, too careless, after the night before. Hana sat at the kitchen table, her teddy bear in her lap. She hadn't slept. Every creak of the house, every brush of wind against the window, had sent her jolting awake.
Mrs. Park moved about nervously, brewing tea she didn't drink, glancing at Hana as though afraid to ask what had happened. The police officers had left hours ago, convinced the house was safe. But Hana knew better.
The scarred man had been here.
She pressed her teddy against her chest, her fingers brushing the hidden object inside its pocket: the cigarette butt. Still there. Still real.
Proof.
Later that day, Mr. Choi nearly dropped his briefcase when Hana thrust the teddy bear at him the moment he walked into his office.
"Slow down," he muttered, pushing aside stacks of files. "What happened now?"
Hana's eyes were fierce, her movements frantic. She pulled the cigarette butt from the teddy's pocket and placed it on the desk with trembling hands. Then she pointed at the teddy's stained fur.
Two pieces of evidence.
Mr. Choi stared at them, his jaw tightening. "Where did you get this?"
Her silence was answer enough. The way she hugged the teddy, the shadows under her eyes—he understood.
"He came to your house, didn't he?"
Hana's lips pressed into a hard line. She nodded once.
Mr. Choi cursed under his breath, slamming his palm on the desk. "Unbelievable. The police think your father is the only suspect, and meanwhile the real killer walks into your home." He shook his head, scooping both items into evidence bags. "Alright. No more waiting. We'll send these for testing. If the blood on this bear and the DNA from this cigarette don't match your father, then we'll have proof."
Hana's eyes widened with hope.
Proof. Something no one could ignore.
That night, Mr. Choi stayed late in his office, drafting motions, preparing requests for independent forensic analysis. He typed furiously, his glasses slipping down his nose, sweat beading on his forehead.
For a moment, he looked at Hana, asleep on the couch with her teddy curled in her arms.
She was just a child. A child carrying the weight of a trial, of a father's life, of truths no one else could see.
He whispered softly, almost like a prayer: "We'll save him, Hana. Somehow."
Days crawled by. Hana went through her routine with restless energy—school, home, visits to Mr. Choi's office—but her mind was fixed on the evidence. She sketched the scarred man's face over and over, filling pages with his sharp jaw, his cold eyes, the missing button.
One afternoon, Mr. Choi returned with an envelope in his hand. His face was pale.
Hana's heart stopped.
He set the envelope on the desk, staring at it for a long moment before tearing it open. Papers rustled. His eyes scanned the page once, twice.
Then he looked at Hana.
"The blood on the teddy…" He swallowed. "It doesn't match the victim. It's not your father's either."
Hana's eyes widened.
"It belongs to an unknown male."
She clutched her teddy so tightly its seams strained. Relief and fear crashed together inside her. Not her father's blood. Proof he wasn't the killer. But also proof that another man had been close enough to leave it behind.
Mr. Choi flipped to the second page, his hands trembling. "And the cigarette… it carries DNA too. From the same unknown male."
Hana's breath caught. Her sketches, her memories, the missing button—she hadn't imagined any of it.
There was someone else. Someone real.
Mr. Choi's eyes hardened. "This is it. This is the beginning of his freedom." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But Hana… this also means the real killer knows we're getting close. And he won't let us keep this evidence without a fight."
Hana hugged her teddy bear, staring at the papers.
For the first time, she wasn't alone in the truth.
But for the first time, she understood the danger wasn't just around her.
It was closing in.