"Oh no, please don't misunderstand! We absolutely cannot provide any guarantees—everyone is responsible for their own actions!"
The heavily made-up Korean woman, clearly panicked, waved her hands frantically. "What do you want to know? I won't hide anything, I swear—nothing at all!"
—
The Korean Peninsula was mostly mountainous and hilly, with relatively little flat land. Its overall terrain sloped from high in the northeast to lower in the southwest. Compared to its northern neighbor, South Korea had slightly more usable plains—but only slightly.
This geographical limitation had historically made the peninsula a land of scarcity—too little arable land meant too little food.
This scarcity extended to nearly every aspect of life, including housing, as evidenced by the traditional-style hanok that Aubrey and Alice had rented.
The house was essentially a miniature four-sided courtyard, with blue-tiled roofs and white walls that faintly resembled ancient Chinese architecture from the Jiangnan region. The bedrooms were tiny, with low wooden platforms barely reaching knee height. A thin mattress on top counted as a "bed."
Jack was just grateful they hadn't rented a traditional hanok—because real hanok had no beds at all. People slept directly on the floor.
In the open-concept main hall, Aubrey and Alice had set up a makeshift meeting room. A portable LCD screen now sat atop the TV stand, forcing the actual television into a humiliating position against the wall in the corner.
A small square table occupied the center of the room, with an electric hotpot bubbling away. The scent of budae jjigae (army stew) filled the entire courtyard—a strong mix of kimchi, fermented soybean paste, Spam, and instant noodles.
To be fair, Spam and ramen together did make for an oddly comforting meal—kind of like the time Jack had taken a green train during college, and the smell of someone opening an instant noodle cup had permeated the entire carriage.
Jack, however, had no intention of explaining the origins of army stew to his teammates. Seoul was still a capital city, after all, and South Korea's economy was heavily dependent on international trade.
Even though economic struggles in recent years had slowed down urban development, the city still offered a decent variety of global cuisines—especially East Asian food.
When he had the time, he could probably sniff his way through the streets and guide the team to some truly authentic dishes.
Of course, if JJ and Hannah were interested in trying hanbok (traditional Korean clothing), Jack definitely had a recommendation—the most authentic style: chigeori. (Good kids, don't Google this.)
Unfortunately, the hanok's thin wooden walls were terrible for soundproofing. If someone farted in one room, the person next door would hear it loud and clear. They'd have to wait until after the case to move into a proper hotel for any real Korean cultural experiences.
Jubal, JJ, and Hannah returned from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency around the same time Jack and Clay finished their investigation.
After a long day, everyone was starving. Soon, the room was filled with the synchronized slurping of noodles.
Once their stomachs were full, Jack brewed some pu-erh tea to cleanse their palates. This was one of the easier Chinese teas to find in South Korea.
Korean "traditional teas," on the other hand, were bizarre—so much so that calling them "tea" was a stretch. They contained everything except actual tea leaves. Pine needles, Schisandra berries, mugwort, kudzu root—you name it. Some even used corn silk.
Honestly, they were more like sweet herbal drinks than actual tea.
With everyone refreshed, Alice set up her laptop on the cleared table, and the team began reviewing their findings.
—
Clay went first, summarizing what he and Jack had confirmed in the morgue.
Jubal sighed, pulled out a file, and placed it on the table.
"Jack was right—this is the work of a serial killer," he stated. "Two weeks ago, a British woman named Barbara Walker was found dead at a landfill outside Seoul."
"Blonde, 24 years old," JJ read from the report. "Her body was severely decomposed, but the autopsy still noted facial injuries."
She subtly shielded her eyes, trying not to focus on the gruesome crime scene photos.
Jack flipped through the file, paying particular attention to the police investigation notes. They suspected that the landfill wasn't the original dump site. The garbage truck's route had included several collection points—one of which was in Itaewon.
"Why didn't the Korean police connect these two cases earlier?" Aubrey asked, incredulous.
If this had been two separate U.S. states, a delay in linking the murders would've been understandable.
But this was Seoul, the capital of South Korea. Two foreign women murdered under similar circumstances, and no one noticed the connection? That was absurd.
"Maybe because the cases fell under two different prosecutors—who, of course, never talk to each other," Jack said, giving a brief explanation of South Korea's absurd prosecutor system.
Then he provided a name to Alice.
"This was our lead from the employment agency today. Look up Grayson Faber."
Jack explained, "According to Mrs. Thomas, Jessica Townsend was usually low-key. But recently, she had formally complained about Grayson Faber."
"They had dated briefly, but after their breakup, he wouldn't leave her alone. Jessica requested that he be transferred to another school."
"Mrs. Thomas tried to smooth things over. She said she personally warned Faber—very sternly."
—
Whatever one might say about Aubrey and Alice's taste in accommodations, they had met Jubal's request—the Wi-Fi here was excellent.
A photo popped up on the screen.
Hannah immediately recognized the face. "That's the guy from the nightclub—the one harassing Jessica!"
Alice's fingers flew across the keyboard, multiple search windows flashing on-screen.
"That's likely him," she confirmed. "I just hacked into 'Morning Light Academy's' server—Jessica Townsend and Grayson Faber were definitely coworkers."
"A month ago, Jessica blocked him on all social media and deleted a bunch of photos—mostly ones of them together."
"Where's he from? Can we pull his records?" Jubal asked.
Alice didn't even look up. "American. Give me ten minutes—connecting to U.S. databases from here is a bit of a hassle."
While Alice worked, the others took the time to clean up.
Frankly, the budae jjigae had smelled good while they were hungry—but now, the lingering scent was kind of nauseating.
—
By the time they had finished tidying up, Alice had results.
"Grayson Faber, 25, from Tallahassee, Florida. No criminal record, but—"
She pulled up a police report.
"He was questioned once for assaulting his girlfriend with a gun handle. He wasn't arrested, though."
Clay perked up. "Sounds like motive. And a history of violence. Do we know where to find him?"
"He still works at the same school. And we have his current rental address."
Clay frowned at his phone. Alice had sent him the address, but the text was all in Korean.
Aside from the numbers, he couldn't read any of it.
Copying the text into Google Maps only spat out a long list of similar-looking locations.
"Looks like we need a local guide," Jack said, echoing what everyone was thinking.
—
Unsurprisingly, Kim Joon-ho had zero intention of personally escorting them.
When Jubal called, the prosecutor simply said that someone would contact them in the morning.
Seeing as they'd spent half the day on a military transport plane—dealing with jet lag and engine noise—Jack suggested they all get some actual sleep.
The next morning, Jubal's phone rang.
A deep, gruff voice on the other end introduced himself as a detective from the Seoul Metropolitan Police's Major Crimes Unit.
They agreed to meet at Exit 2 of Noksapyeong Station, on Seoul's Line 6 subway.
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