PROLOGUE
Rain had a way of making prisons look lonelier than they already were.
It fell relentlessly against the concrete walls of Haneul Correctional Facility, washing the world outside into a dull blur of gray. Water trickled down rusted fences crowned with coils of barbed wire, while the sound of heavy boots echoed through corridors that smelled faintly of disinfectant and damp cement.
Somewhere in the distance, a metal door slammed shut with a deafening clang, followed by silence so complete it almost felt alive.
Detective Kang Jihyun adjusted the files tucked beneath his arm as he stood behind the observation window of Interview Room Three. Beside him stood two correctional officers, neither of whom spoke. On the other side of the thick glass sat a woman in prison uniform, wrists cuffed loosely to the steel table.
She hadn't moved in nearly ten minutes.
"She's been like that all morning," one of the officers muttered. "Hasn't said a word."
Jihyun kept his eyes on the woman. Five years.
Five years had passed since the infamous Heart Island case, the murder that had swallowed headlines, ruined lives, and remained one of the country's most dissected investigations. Every detective who touched the case called it the closest thing to a thriller novel they had ever lived through.
And yet...there were still questions nobody could answer. An unsolved mystery.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
The heavy door behind them opened, revealing a man in his late thirties carrying nothing but a leather notebook and a fountain pen.
"Eun Dok-ja-ssi?" Jihyun asked.
The novelist smiled politely and offered a small bow, "I hope I'm not late."
"No."
Jihyun glanced toward the observation window again before lowering his voice.
"I'm surprised she agreed to meet you."
"So am I."
"She refused every interview for five years. Journalists, psychologists, television stations... even her own lawyer struggled to get more than a few sentences out of her." He paused. "She declined every visitor."
Dokja frowned. "Family?"
"Didn't want to see them."
"Friends?"
"None."
"And yet..."
Jihyun nodded.
"When we told her a novelist wanted to interview her..." A humorless smile crossed his face. "...she said yes immediately."
Dokja looked genuinely puzzled. "I've never met her."
"We know." The detective exhaled quietly before opening the interview room.
"Just... don't provoke her."
✧
The room was colder than Dokja expected.
A single fluorescent light buzzed overhead. The walls were bare, save for a clock whose ticking seemed unusually loud.
The woman remained seated across from him, staring at the table as if the scratches carved into the steel surface were more interesting than the visitor in front of her.
Dokja pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without lifting her head, she asked,
"You got a cigarette?"
Her voice was unexpectedly soft, no dry. Almost bored.
Dokja offered an apologetic smile, "I'm afraid not."
"No?"
"I don't smoke."
The corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly, she glanced at man's hand, the yellow stain in between his index and middle finger were saying a different story.
"...That's a shame."
Silence settled between them again. Dokja opened his notebook, uncapped his pen, and looked up.
"My name is Eun Dokja."
"I know."
"I write crime fiction."
"I know that too."
"You've read my books?"
She finally looked at him. For the first time, Dokja noticed her eyes. They weren't empty. Nor were they frantic.
If anything, they were frighteningly clear, watching him with the kind of curiosity usually reserved for insects beneath glass.
"I've read all of them," she replied. "You always get the ending wrong."
Dokja blinked.
"I'll take that as criticism."
"You should."
A faint smile tugged at her lips before disappearing just as quickly.
"I've been wondering..." Dokja began carefully, "why did you agree to see me?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Because writers lie better than detectives."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll try not to."
"You already are."
Another silence. This one was heavier.
Dokja glanced down at the first page of his notebook. "I'd like to ask you about the Heart Island case."
The woman didn't react.
"Five years ago," he continued gently, "fourteen contestants entered a month-long reality dating show called Single's Royale."
Blank slate.
"One of them never came home."
Still nothing.
"The country still argues over what happened on that island." He hesitated before asking the question everyone wanted answered.
"Did you kill him?"
The room became impossibly still. Outside the observation window, even Jihyun unconsciously leaned closer.The woman stared at Dokja for several seconds before a quiet laugh escaped her lips.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't manic.
Just... strange.
Like she'd been told the funniest joke in the world. "You know what's funny, Mr. Eun?"
Dokja remained silent.
"Every single person who sits where you're sitting asks me that exact question." She leaned forward, the chain between her cuffs scraping harshly against the table.
"'Did you kill him?'"
Another laugh erupted, "But nobody..." Her smile widened. "...ever asks why she wanted him dead."
Dokja frowned.
"She?"
The smile vanished. "Mhmm..she."
"...Who?"
Her breathing changed. Barely noticeable. A little quicker. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"That bitch..."
She whispered it so quietly Dokja almost missed it.
"That fucking bitch..." Her voice cracked. "She framed me."
The words spilled out like poison.
"I didn't kill him." She looked directly into Dokja's eyes. "I swear I didn't."
For a fleeting second...He believed her.
Then she slammed both hands onto the steel table. The deafening bang echoed through the room.
"I DIDN'T KILL HIM!"
Her chair screeched backward.
"IT WAS HER!"
"I SAW HER!"
"I SAW WHAT SHE DID!"
The interview room door burst open. Jihyun and two officers rushed inside. The woman struggled against the officers only briefly before her body seemed to lose all strength at once. Her breathing became uneven.Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She looked so heartbreakingly fragile that Dokja found himself questioning everything he'd read about her.
Jihyun dismissed the officers with a nod. The woman sat quietly once more, staring at her trembling hands.
He sighed.
"...Who framed you?"
No response a always. He crouched slightly until they were at eye level.
"Tell me."
She blinked. "...Her."
"Who?"
A long pause.
Her brows slowly knitted together. "...Her..."
She scratched lightly at her temple, confusion replacing the fury from moments before.
"...What..."
She glared at him in confusion, "...What was her name?"
Jihyun closed his eyes. "You forgot again. As always."
The room fell silent.
Dokja stared at the detective. "...Again?"
Jihyun didn't answer. Instead, he helped the woman to her feet.
"Interview's over."
Dokja remained seated as they reached the doorway. Just before she stepped outside, the woman stopped walking. She turned her head slightly.
"...Detective."
Jihyun looked back. "What?"
A smile spread slowly across her face.
Calm, gentle.... terrifying.
"I didn't forget."
His expression hardened."...Then why didn't you say it?"
She looked past him, toward the rain-soaked window at the end of the corridor. For a moment, she almost looked... nostalgic.
"I'm just wondering..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...what she's doing right now."
A chill crept down Dokja's spine. The detective said nothing. Neither did she.
She simply allowed herself to be led back toward her cell, humming a melody so soft it disappeared beneath the sound of the rain.
Long after the metal door closed behind her, neither man spoke.
Dokja finally looked down at his notebook. Only a few sentences have been written across the otherwise blank page.
Some stories don't begin with a murder.They begin with someone deciding who deserves one.
