SEOUL – SUMMER 2014
The day begins in golden sun and the scent of steamed buns.
Kids are laughing in a narrow courtyard behind the rebranded agency:
"PACIFIST INVESTIGATIONS & FAMILY SERVICES"
Founded 1989 – Rebuilt 2003 – Still Standing 2014
The agency now offers therapy referrals, missing persons work, conflict resolution, and cold case closure.
Inside, Souta (now 43) juggles phone calls while her teen daughter complains about algebra.
She pauses, breathes in —
There's peace in the chaos now.
RYOUMA & HUÁILÁN'S HOUSE — OUTSKIRTS OF SEOUL
The home is quiet, modern, full of mismatched furniture and wild love.
Huáilán (45) waters her garden barefoot, wearing her old military sweater over a dress.
Ryouma (47) wrangles their four kids (ages 9, 7, 6, and 4) into shoes. He's outnumbered. Always.
One of the kids, Ming, draws stick figures with swords and calls them "The Blood Ghosts." Ryouma sighs.
"Your mom's gonna think I told you about her past again."
Huáilán steps inside and smiles.
"If they're not scared of my ghosts,
they're strong enough to carry their own."
They kiss briefly as a kettle whistles.
DOCUMENTARY TRANSCRIPT — TV IN BACKGROUND
A documentary titled "THE PACIFIST FILES: The Children Who Survived the Devil" plays quietly in the background on a living room screen.
Narrator (voiceover):
"In 1969, a woman named Kairi Saigeru orchestrated a bloody, cryptic spree across Tokyo, Kurokawa, Kamikawa and Seoul.
Her children—survivors, not just of her violence, but of the system that failed to stop her—disappeared from public view until 2003."
Footage shows grainy images: the burning church, photos of Katarina, mugshots of Huáilán, murder cases from the past in 1969 and various reports in
Then—
Interview Clip – Ryouma (present day):
"We didn't win anything.
We just outlived it.
That has to be enough."
Interview Clip – Huáilán:
"People still think I'm dangerous.
Maybe I am.
But I've learned how to be dangerous for the right reasons."
Interview Clip – Souta:
"Forgiveness isn't holy.
It's just honest.
That's why we cleaned her grave."
—
KAIRI'S GRAVE — MOUNTAINSIDE SHRINE – AFTERNOON
The family visits once a year. Always on the same day.
No cameras. No recordings. Just memory.
Kairi's grave is marked only with her name, and a single phrase:
"Born in blood. Died in silence."
Souta, Ryouma, Huáilán, and all the children arrive together. It's not a celebration. It's not guilt.
It's ritual.
Souta lays down a red hair ribbon her daughter no longer wears.
Huáilán places a drawing from their youngest—"Kairi, with angel wings and fangs."
Ryouma lays a cigarette. The kind Katarina used to smoke.
They all stand for a while.
No one speaks.
Then one of the kids tugs Huáilán's hand and asks:
"Is she still a monster?"
Huáilán bends down and looks her daughter in the eye.
"She was hurt.
She hurt others.
And now she rests."
"We're the ones who get to grow."
They walk back together.
FINAL SCENE – NIGHT – PACIFIST AGENCY ROOFTOP
The stars are out. The city hums.
Souta, Huáilán, and Ryouma sit under an old electric lantern. The kids sleep inside. The breeze is warm.
They sip soju and trade silent glances of soft exhaustion.
Souta (laughing):
"Imagine if she saw this.
All of us… domestic."
Huáilán:
"She'd either cry.
Or blow up the office."
Ryouma:
"She'd smile first.
Then set it all on fire."
They all laugh.
Then, quiet.
Souta:
"I miss her sometimes."
No one disagrees.
Then—
Ryouma holds Huáilán's hand.
They sit back. Stare at the stars.
"We never became normal," Huáilán whispers.
"But we became good."
FINAL IMAGE — FRAMED PHOTO ON THE DESK
The original team.
Everyone smiling.
Even Kairi, faintly, in an old photograph behind them—torn and taped back together.
On the bottom is carved:
"Pacifist – Closed Case. Open Lives."