Night swallowed the city whole.
Mr. Choi hadn't slept. The evidence found at Juror #6's house proved Hana's drawings were real…but it also meant something terrifying:
the killer was watching the trial closely.
Close enough to mimic Choi's identity.
Close enough to threaten a juror.
Close enough to vanish whenever Hana looked his way.
He sat at his desk, staring at the metal button sealed in a plastic bag. It was small, ordinary—something anyone could overlook. But in court, it had the weight of truth.
Hana's truth.
Across the room, Hana slept curled up on the couch in Choi's office, her teddy bear tucked under her chin. The storm outside had settled into a soft drizzle, tapping gently against the window. It should've felt peaceful.
It didn't.
At 8:15 a.m., Officer Lim knocked on the door.
His expression was grim.
"We found something else," he said, handing Choi a thin envelope. "This part… wasn't in the trash. It was under the juror's bed."
Choi opened it.
Inside were several small objects:
• a cigarette filter
• a torn matchbox
• and a tiny folded scrap of paper
Choi unfolded the paper slowly.
A message in rough handwriting:
"SHE SEES TOO MUCH."
His stomach turned cold.
It wasn't addressed to the juror.
It was about Hana.
"Did Juror #6 say anything else?" Choi asked, voice tight.
Officer Lim sighed. "He said the scarred man told him something strange. He said…"
He hesitated before finishing.
"'Keep the little girl quiet.'"
Choi's hands clenched into fists.
Security was doubled the next morning. Police officers stood near every entrance, checking bags and scanning faces. Mrs. Park held Hana close as they walked in, her arm firm and protective.
The courtroom felt different today—tense, alert, buzzing with whispers. The jurors avoided each other's eyes. Everyone had heard about the bribery attempt.
When the judge entered, she wasted no time.
"Due to the recent discovery of attempted jury tampering," she announced, "we will be reviewing security footage, interviewing witnesses, and adjusting our procedures for safety."
The prosecutor looked irritated.
Mr. Choi looked ready for war.
He rose from his seat. "Your Honor, I request that Hana's next drawings be treated as illustrative evidence."
The courtroom fell silent.
The prosecutor nearly choked. "Illustrative—? She's a child! She cannot testify!"
"No," Choi said calmly. "But she can show what she saw. And considering the accuracy of her previous drawings…"
He pointed toward the evidence table. "We can no longer ignore her eyes."
A wave of murmurs filled the room.
During a short recess, Hana sat at the small table beside Choi, pencil in hand.
She began sketching slowly, her strokes deliberate.
Mrs. Park watched nervously.
Choi watched with dread.
When she finished, she turned the drawing to face them.
It showed:
• the courthouse hallway
• Hana standing with her teddy bear
• Mr. Choi speaking to a security guard
• And behind them…
A shadowy figure standing near the exit.
Partially hidden by a column.
A faint scar cutting across the cheek.
And in his hand—a phone.
"What is he doing?" Choi asked softly.
Hana drew one more line:
a small arrow from the phone to—
the courtroom door.
Mrs. Park inhaled sharply. "He was listening… to what was happening inside?"
Hana nodded.
Mr. Choi's eyes darkened. "The killer isn't just watching. He's monitoring every move."
He stood abruptly. "Your Honor needs to see this. Now."
Back in the courtroom, Choi presented Hana's new drawing.
Judge Min studied it carefully.
"If the child saw a man here yesterday," she said, "then we should check the hallway cameras."
Officer Lim nodded. "We already pulled the footage from that time."
The lights dimmed as a video feed appeared on the screen.
The hallway was empty…
A few people passed briefly…
Then—the frame froze.
A man stepped halfway into view.
Black coat.
Face turned away.
A faint scar visible when he lifted his head.
He waited…
then held his phone toward the courtroom door
exactly as Hana had drawn.
A collective gasp filled the room.
Mrs. Park covered her mouth.
The prosecutor slumped in disbelief.
Judge Min's voice shook. "Who is this man?"
Officer Lim paused the footage. "We don't know. His face is never fully shown. But the scar matches the description the defendant gave the night of the incident."
Mr. Choi turned toward the jury, voice steady and cold:
"This is the real killer. And he is still out there."
Just as tension reached its breaking point—
the courtroom doors opened.
Everyone turned.
A police officer hurried inside, whispering urgently into Judge Min's ear.
Her face drained of color.
"Court will recess immediately," she declared. "Everyone must stay inside the building. No one is to leave."
People erupted in confusion.
Mr. Choi grabbed the officer. "What happened?"
The officer swallowed hard.
"We found a message at the building entrance. It was taped to the security scanner."
"What did it say?" Mrs. Park whispered, clutching Hana close.
The officer looked at Hana.
Then at her sketchbook.
The message was only two words:
"NOT DONE."
The officers escorted everyone into a secured waiting room.
Hana sat in the corner, hands shaking as she held her teddy bear.
Mrs. Park knelt by her. "You're safe. You're safe, sweetheart."
But Hana wasn't looking at her.
She was staring at the window.
Slowly, she lifted her pencil—
then drew a simple shape:
A car.
Dark-colored.
Parked beside the courthouse.
And inside it…
a silhouette watching the building.
Mr. Choi leaned over her shoulder, breath catching.
"How long has he been there?" he whispered.
Hana's pencil moved:
Since morning.
Officer Lim stormed back into the room.
"We ran a partial identity match," he said. "The scarred man—he might be connected to an old case. Something from years ago. Something involving…"
He hesitated, staring at Hana's father through the glass wall.
"…your client."
Choi's heart sank.
Mrs. Park held her breath.
"What kind of case?" Choi asked.
Officer Lim lowered his voice.
"A kidnapping. Years ago. The victim was a little girl."
Choi's eyes shifted to Hana.
Mrs. Park whispered, "No… no, it can't be…"
Officer Lim continued quietly:
"And the suspect from that old case—
the one who disappeared before trial—
matches the description of the scarred man."
The room fell silent.
Mr. Choi felt the ground tilt beneath him.
"Hana…" he whispered, looking at the child who had seen everything.
"This man… has been in your life before."
Hana buried her face in her teddy bear.
And for the first time—
a tear fell onto the drawing paper.