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

Chapter 71: National Forensic Service (7)

The halls of Gangnam High School echo with the ghosts of adolescence past. It's been over a decade since Eunji and Sung walked these corridors, but I can almost hear the phantom chatter of students and the slamming of lockers.

I'm here during summer break, the building eerily quiet. The current principal, a middle-aged woman named Ms. Park, eyes me warily as I explain my purpose.

"Sung Ilyong and Kim Eunji?" she repeats, frowning. "I'm afraid I wasn't here back then. Let me see what I can find in our records."

While she searches, I wander the halls, studying faded photographs of past graduating classes. In one, I spot Sung – young, handsome, surrounded by friends. His smile is confident, almost cocky. My eyes scan the photo, but I can't find Eunji among the sea of faces.

Ms. Park's voice pulls me back. "I have their files here," she says, gesturing to a pair of thin folders. "Sung was a senior when Eunji transferred in. He graduated a few months later."

I leaf through the documents, noting Sung's impressive academic record and multiple extracurricular activities. Eunji's file, in contrast, is sparse. Good grades, but little else.

"Do you have any yearbooks from that time?" I ask.

Ms. Park produces a dusty volume. I flip through it, finding multiple photos of Sung – at sports events, school festivals, always at the center of things. Eunji appears only in her class photo, a solitary figure with downcast eyes.

"I've reached out to a few teachers who were here then," Ms. Park says. "Most don't remember Eunji at all. Mr. Lee, the literature teacher, recalled her being very quiet, always alone."

I nod, jotting notes. "And Sung?"

"Oh, everyone remembered him," she chuckles. "Popular with students and teachers alike. Charismatic, they said."

I spend the afternoon tracking down former classmates. Most of their memories align with what I've already learned – Sung was the golden boy, Eunji barely a blip on anyone's radar.

Then I speak with a woman named Jiyeon, who hesitates before sharing a crucial piece of information.

"There was this rumor," she says, lowering her voice. "That Eunji was dating Sung. Nobody really believed it, you know? She was so... invisible. Some people accused her of spreading the rumor herself."

"How did people react?" I probe.

Jiyeon shrugs. "They isolated her even more. Not that she had many friends to begin with."

As the day wears on, my frustration grows. Eunji remains an enigma, her past shrouded in silence. With no parents and a childhood spent in an orphanage, there are no family members to interview, no childhood friends to consult.

I stand in the school courtyard, watching the sun dip low on the horizon. The connection between Eunji and Sung feels both tantalizingly close and maddeningly out of reach. What happened between them in these halls?

As the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the schoolyard, I notice an elderly man in a security uniform making his rounds, keys jangling at his hip. He's methodically checking doors, preparing to close up for the day. Something about his weathered face and careful movements suggests he's been here for years, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of student life.

I approach him, badge in hand. "Excuse me, sir. I'm investigating a case and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

He eyes me warily but nods. "What can I help you with, detective?"

I pull out a photo of Eunji. "I'm trying to gather information about this former student. Her name is Kim Eunji. She attended school here about a decade ago."

The guard's eyes widen in recognition, a smile spreading across his face. "Eunji? Oh, it's good to see her face again. How is she doing? Are you two colleagues?"

His reaction catches me off guard. "You... you remember her?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Of course! Eunji used to come to the guard house often, keep me company during my night shifts. Such a nice, kind kid. Always had a word of encouragement or a snack to share. How do you know her?"

I hesitate, weighing my words carefully. "I'm afraid I'm here on official business, sir. Eunji is... involved in a case I'm investigating. I'm trying to understand more about her past, especially her time here at the school."

The guard's face falls, his earlier warmth replaced by a guarded expression. He seems about to say something, then thinks better of it.

"Sir," I press gently, "I know this might be difficult, but anything you can tell me could be crucial. Eunji's life may depend on it."

He's silent for a long moment, conflict clear in his eyes. Finally, he sighs heavily. "I... I shouldn't say anything. It's not my place. But if Eunji's in trouble..." He glances around, then gestures for me to follow him to a more secluded spot near the guard house.

"What I'm about to tell you, it's not something I've ever shared before," he begins, his voice low. "Eunji... she went through something terrible here. There was a boy, popular kid named Sung. He..." The guard's face contorts with anger and pain. "He forced himself on her.

Eunji ended up pregnant."

My breath catches in my throat. I struggle to maintain my composure as he continues.

"She was so scared, so alone. I tried to help her as best I could. Helped her find a clinic for... you know." He shakes his head sadly. "After that, I did what I could to look out for her, to help her get back on her feet. But after graduation, she just...

disappeared. Stopped contacting me. I always hoped she'd moved on to better things."

I stand there, stunned by this revelation. It takes me a moment to find my voice. "Thank you for sharing this, sir. I know it couldn't have been easy."

He nods, looking drained. "Just... please. Help her if you can. Eunji deserved so much better than what life gave her."

"Sir, I hate to ask this, but it could be crucial. Do you remember any details about the clinic Eunji went to?"

The guard's face creases with concern. He takes a deep breath, clearly wrestling with whether to divulge more information. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"I... I drove her there myself," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Couldn't let her go alone, you understand? It was a small place, discreet. On the outskirts of Gangnam, near where the city starts to thin out."

I nod encouragingly, careful to keep my expression neutral.

He continues, "It was called... Mirae Women's Clinic, I think. Run by a doctor named Shin. An older woman, very kind. She took good care of Eunji."

I jot down the details in my notebook. "Do you remember anything else? The exact location, perhaps?"

The guard furrows his brow in concentration. "It was on a street with a lot of trees. Cherry blossoms, I think. There was a small park nearby, and a convenience store on the corner."

"That's very helpful," I assure him. "One last thing – do you remember roughly when this happened?"

He nods slowly. "It was spring. Late April or early May. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I remember because..." he trails off, his eyes growing distant. "Because Eunji commented on how beautiful they were, even through her tears."

The image his words paint is heartbreaking. I swallow hard, forcing myself to remain professional. "Thank you. You've been incredibly helpful."

The guard looks at me intently. "Detective, please. Whatever's happening now, remember that Eunji was a victim. She didn't deserve what happened to her then, and I can't imagine she deserves whatever trouble she's in now."

I nod solemnly. "I understand. I'll do my best to uncover the truth and see that justice is served – for everyone involved."

As I walk away from the school, my mind buzzing with this new information, a familiar voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Looks like our golden boy Sung wasn't so golden after all." Aileen's sardonic tone echoes in my head.

I sigh, knowing I'm in for another internal debate.

"You can't tell me you're not seeing this differently now. Eunji was a victim. Sung ruined her life. If she did kill him, can you really blame her?" she persists.

I stop walking, leaning against a nearby wall. "We don't know that she killed him, Aileen. That's still just speculation."

"But if she did," Aileen presses, "you have to admit, he had it coming. After what he did to her? That kind of trauma doesn't just go away."

I shake my head, even though there's no one around to see it. "No one deserves to die, Aileen. Not even Sung. What he did was horrific, unforgivable even. But murder isn't justice."

"Isn't it?" Aileen's voice is challenging. "The system failed Eunji once. Who's to say it wouldn't fail her again? Maybe she decided to take matters into her own hands."

"That's not how this works," I argue. "We can't condone vigilante justice, no matter how sympathetic the cause. And again, we still don't know for certain that Eunji killed Sung."

Aileen scoffs. "Come on, all the evidence points to her. And now we have motive."

"Motive isn't proof," I counter. "We need hard evidence. And even if we get it, even if Eunji did kill Sung, it doesn't mean she 'deserved' to do it. It's still a tragedy, all around."

There's a pause, and when Aileen speaks again, her tone is softer. "You're right. I know you're right. It's just... hearing what happened to her, what she went through... as a woman, it makes my blood boil."

I nod, understanding the sentiment. "Mine too. But our job isn't to judge. It's to uncover the truth, whatever that might be. And to make sure justice is served properly, through legal channels."

"Fine," Aileen concedes. "But promise me something. If it turns out Eunji did do this, you'll make sure the full story comes out. What Sung did to her, the pain she carried all these years. It matters."

"I promise," I say solemnly. "Whatever the truth is, I'll make sure it all comes to light."