Sometimes, truth isn't the loud noise that breaks the silence—it's the faint breath hiding behind the smell of iron and death.
Rae stood near the window, arms folded. Forensic lights swept across the cramped apartment, stripping away the remains of a life. The air reeked of metal and roses—the scent of beauty fading into decay.
Kim Chanwoo paced the floor, sharp-eyed, controlled. His gray suit looked tired but his authority didn't."Time of discovery: 21:47," he said.
Then he turned to Rae, irritation subtle but sharp."You should be behind the line.""And miss the most honest view in this room?""The view?""The rope—tied twice, one knot imperfect. People who truly want to die don't decorate their deaths. They just vanish."
Chanwoo exhaled. "Who are you?""The one who found her wallet.""And happened to arrive before the police?"Rae shrugged. "Truth loves dramatic timing."
At the doorway stood Yejin, pale and frozen, rain still clinging to her sleeves."Rae… what happened?""A paradox," he murmured. "A locked door, and yet footprints that leave."
Chanwoo frowned. "Footprints?"Rae pointed under the table. "See that? Prints leading outward—but none by the door. They were made before the door was locked."
A forensic officer interrupted. "Victim's prints only. None clear enough for others."Rae crouched by the table. "The tea's warm. The kettle's cold."Chanwoo raised an eyebrow. "And that means?""Someone poured tea after waiting too long. A ritual—something done for someone else, not oneself."
"So she waited to die?""No," Rae said softly. "She waited to be killed."
The air thinned.
Three witnesses were brought in:
Lee Hojin (31) – office worker, nervous, sweating.
Min Areum (27) – influencer, overly bright, too curious.
Park Sunwoo (40) – building maintenance, hands stained with grease.
Their stories aligned too neatly.Rae watched.
Hojin heard a thud around 9 p.m. but assumed it was stray cats. Areum claimed she was livestreaming. Sunwoo said he was fixing pipes downstairs. Perfect, tidy, useless alibis.
Rae spoke softly. "May I ask something?"Chanwoo shot him a glare. "This isn't a Q&A session.""But honesty loves interruptions."
He walked toward Hojin. "You heard something fall, yes? Yet didn't report until 9:30.""I—thought it wasn't my business.""Because you already knew who entered before that, didn't you?""I… I don't!"Rae smiled faintly. "I believe you. But I don't believe your phone clock."
Gasps.
"The wall clock's stopped at 9:13," Rae said. "But decomposition suggests at least an hour later. Someone stopped time on purpose."
Chanwoo narrowed his eyes. "Proof?"Rae gestured toward the rope. "See the nylon thread? It's not regular rope—bought from the utility shop downstairs. Only one man has access to that after hours."
Sunwoo flinched. "I didn't go up! I was fixing pipes!""Exactly," Rae replied calmly. "And the leak downstairs? Caused by hot water running too long. Only someone who knows the heating system could stage that."
Silence.
Chanwoo observed, arms crossed. "You talk like an uninvited detective.""And you listen like a man afraid of being wrong."
Rae turned to the window, watching rain scatter the neon lights."This death isn't an ending," he whispered. "It's a story rewritten to look clean."
"Are you sure?" Chanwoo asked."No," Rae said, his reflection blending into the glass. "But truth doesn't wait for certainty."
Outside, the rain carried the metallic scent of a secret that refused to stay silent.