Sof had finally finished arranging the bouquet of roses, setting it aside as he returned to tend his plants. That's when he accidentally knocked over a stack of toilet paper. The rolls tumbled across the floor with a soft thud, and in that moment, panic hit him. He'd completely forgotten to put toilet paper in the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Dohyun was in the middle of doing his business when a loud BANG BANG BANG shook the door.
"What the—?! Sof! Calm down! What is it?!"
Dohyun yelled, trying to keep his voice steady, hoping sheer volume would stop the pounding. He didn't notice the door was soundproof. Sof, on the other side, didn't notice either—they had both completely forgotten that their shouts were bouncing into oblivion.
Sof's imagination ran wild. Dohyun must be trapped, helpless, stranded on the toilet, completely incapable of taking care of himself. He pounded the door again, harder this time, rocking the frame.
"I'M COMING TO HELP! HOLD ON, MISTER DOHYUN!"
Dohyun, pants still around his ankles, leaned back against the door, feeling each thump rattle his spine.
"I'M CALM, SOF! CALM DOWN!"
He shouted. Nothing. Not a single sound reached Sof's ears.
A beat later, Sof flung his hands into the air in frustration, accidentally smacking over a potted plant, soil spilling across the tiles.
"Why won't you answer me?!" he cried.
Dohyun pinched the bridge of his nose. Why am I here? His heartbeat spiked as he realized this was not just a misunderstanding—it was an epic stalemate of incompetence and soundproofing. Each thought of retaliation collided with the undeniable fact that he couldn't even be heard.
The chaos escalated. Banging, shouting, stumbling over knocked-over toilet paper, and a few stray flower pots clattering in the background.
Finally, with a deafening CRASH, the door gave way entirely. It toppled onto Dohyun, nearly forcing his head into the toilet.
"UUUAAAAHHH!!!"
Dohyun screamed, a mix of shock, pain, and mortification.
"I KILLED MISTER DOHYUN!"
Sof yelled, wide-eyed with horror, clutching a roll of toilet paper like a lifeline.
"I'M STILL ALIVE, SOF!"
Dohyun shrieked back, heart hammering, legs shaking, pants sliding dangerously low.
After a moment of frantic disentangling, both stood amidst a scene of total destruction.
Toilet paper unrolled like snow across the floor, a plant lay on its side, and the door leaned like a wounded beast.
Dohyun, chest heaving, stormed to the counter, slammed exactly ten thousand won onto it, snatched the bouquet, and left, dignity in tatters.
Sof froze, guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. He'd never angered a customer before, let alone caused this level of chaos.
His wide eyes followed Dohyun out the door, the bouquet clutched limply in his hands. What have I done?
Back in his apartment, Dohyun collapsed onto his couch, still catching his breath. The chaos of the bathroom incident replayed in his mind, but it barely registered—embarrassment was fleeting, curiosity everlasting.
His gaze snapped to the board across the room: photos, notes, red strings, names pinned meticulously in an obsessive network.
Climbing onto a chair to get a better view, he leaned forward, tracing connections with his finger as if touching them might summon answers. His mind raced faster than his pulse, reciting every name from the case file aloud.
"Wohyoon… Sof… Kil… the criminal… the Sylvans… Armon… Warren…" He paused, pacing a small circle on the chair, muttering fragments of sentences, half-questions, half-theories. Each syllable pulled threads from his memory, weaving them into patterns, searching for gaps.
Then, as if the universe had flicked a switch, he remembered it—the crayon drawing. Four stick-figure boys. One adult stickman.
His chest tightened with a rush of feverish excitement. He leaned closer, eyes narrowing at the tiny sketch, the details suddenly sharp.
"Sof… Kil… and who?" he whispered, voice low and tense.
A grin crept across his face, embarrassment from the morning's debacle completely evaporating. The broken door, the scattered toilet paper, the shattered dignity—it was all irrelevant now.
Dohyun's hands shook as he ripped pages from his notes, pinned them anew, connected red strings with frantic precision, murmuring names, possibilities, motives.
Each thread brought him closer, each connection deepened the spiral. The puzzle wasn't just a case anymore—it was an obsession. Every clue, every mistake, every subtle detail about Sof and Kil felt like a heartbeat he had to follow.
By the time the apartment clock ticked past noon, Dohyun was hunched over the board, scribbling furiously, eyes wild, saliva glinting at the corner of his mouth from excitement.
He didn't notice the sunlight slipping through the curtains, didn't notice the growl of hunger in his stomach. He only saw patterns, gaps, possibilities—and the one missing piece that might finally make everything fit.
"Sof… Kil… and who?" he repeated again, almost reverently. His grin widened, obsession blossoming like wildfire, untouchable, unstoppable.