"It's obvious—the killer was choosing his victims here," Jack said, pointing to the center of the map.
"The dumping sites are all nearby, meaning the place where he tortured and killed the victims must also be within this area.
Considering how long the torture process lasted, the location must be secluded enough to avoid detection."
He handed the map back to Ma Sido.
"Start investigating every building around this hot zone. What do you think?"
The big man's expression hardened instantly.
Gone was the easy-going gym bro—his face twisted into a cold, gangster-like scowl.
"No need to waste time—there's only one real option.
Other than a bank and a 24-hour pharmacy, there's just one four-story mixed-use building."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Aubrey grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Let's go through it room by room."
—
"No problem," Jubal confirmed over the phone.
"You search the building for suspicious individuals.
Meanwhile, I'll head to the property management office with Prosecutor Kim Jun-ho.
The police database doesn't have rental records for that building, so we'll check the files in person.
If anyone fits your profile, Kim will get us a search warrant immediately."
Then, another voice took over.
"Jack, are you absolutely sure there were no signs of sexual assault on the victims?"
It was JJ, her tone serious.
"None. Same as the first two victims," Jack replied.
"If anything, the killer might be completely impotent—getting his 'release' only from disfiguring women's faces."
"So, we're dealing with a pure sadistic psychopath," JJ mused.
"He's using these victims like living dolls, trying to create his 'perfect woman' through brutal, amateur plastic surgery.
And once he's done, he discards them like trash.
That's… a new level of deranged."
Jack glanced at Ma Sido, who was also making calls, before stepping a few paces away and lowering his voice.
"Considering how much PDE5 inhibitors are in the Han River, this actually makes sense."
JJ sighed, her voice equally low and exasperated.
"You warned us about this before we left, remember?
We thought you were exaggerating—until I found a hidden camera in the women's bathroom at the police station.
This country is insane."
South Korea had an epidemic of spy cams.
Public restrooms, dressing rooms, hotels—even homes—were riddled with hidden cameras.
Men were caught filming their own mothers and sisters, and couples frequently leaked their private videos online.
In Korea, women had to carry two types of tissue in public:
One for the toilet. One to cover tiny holes where a camera might be hidden.
Even Japan, infamous for its own perversions, wasn't this bad.
—
Mixed-Use Building, Itaewon
"Ground floor stores and residential units on floors two and three—nothing suspicious," Clay reported.
"The stores all check out, and the tenants are mostly elderly or families.
The fourth floor is supposed to be offices, but without a search warrant, we could only peek into the hallways."
Jack called over a fragile-looking elderly security guard standing nearby.
He pointed at the elevator, which was chained shut.
"This elevator—where does it lead?"
The old man shuffled over, his wrinkled hands trembling as he leaned on his cane.
"That's the private elevator for Suite 412," he rasped.
"It's been empty since last year.
No one's been in or out."
Jack slipped a $20 bill into his palm.
"Mind unlocking it for us?"
The guard's grip tightened on the money, but he hesitated.
"I—if I do, the owner might file a complaint against me…"
Jack sighed and shoved another handful of twenties into his hand.
"Just… make an exception this time, sir."
—
Ding!
The elevator chimed, doors sliding open to a dusty, deserted hallway.
Jack immediately reached for his gun.
Faint wheel tracks marked the cheap plastic flooring, leading directly to Suite 412.
The grooves were unmistakable—they came from a supermarket shopping cart.
A special U-shaped groove in the cart's wheels allowed them to lock into grocery store escalators—ensuring they wouldn't roll away.
Three FBI agents and two Korean detectives unholstered their weapons.
But when Ma Sido saw the tiny revolvers his subordinates were carrying, he scowled.
Korean police firearms policy was insane:
Officers carried Smith & Wesson Model 60 revolvers. First bullet chamber: Empty (for safety). Second chamber: Blank round (to scare suspects). Only the last three bullets were live ammunition.
Ma Sido gave his officers a disgusted look, shoved them aside, and took point.
Jack and Clay rushed forward, pressing against the doorframe.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Ma Sido slammed his fist against the door.
"Police! Open up!"
Jack glanced down—his eyes sharpened.
"Clay—blood."
A thin trickle of dark, dried blood seeped from under the doorframe.
The stench in the hallway was faint, but unmistakable—rotting flesh.
"No warrant needed," Jack muttered. "Bust it down."
CRASH!
Before the FBI agents could react, Ma Sido had already slammed the door so hard that the rusted hinges gave way.
The entire door collapsed inward.
Bzzzzz!
A swarm of flies erupted from the darkness inside, accompanied by a wall of putrid air.
Ma Sido staggered back, arm raised to shield his face.
Jack and Clay rushed in, weapons ready.
"Clear!"
"No one inside!"
The suite was small and filthy—barely 100 square meters.
A steel surgical table stood in the center, its surface stained black with blood.
The walls, floors, and even the ceiling were splattered with dried gore—layer upon layer, indicating multiple killings over time.
Dead flies and maggots littered the floor.
One of the Korean detectives immediately gagged.
"If you puke," Ma Sido growled, "you're cleaning it with your tongue."
Jack almost choked on his own disgust.
"This is a goddamn slaughterhouse," Aubrey murmured, pinching his nose.
Needing fresh air, he stumbled to the half-open window—and froze.
"Uh… guys? You might wanna see this."
Jack and Ma Sido joined him.
The window overlooked the street below.
"That's the Red Petal flower shop, right?" Aubrey pointed.
"Yeah," Ma Sido muttered.
"And there's Shiny Nails… and the shop where Elsa Bäckvist worked," Jack added.
Ma Sido's jaw tensed.
"Son of a bitch."
He gestured at the window.
"This psycho was watching them from here—choosing his next victim."
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