The recording device chimed with a faint beep, signaling the beginning of the confrontation. Detective Kim slowly placed his phone on the table, while his assistant focused on opening his laptop; the tapping of the keyboard echoed like hammer strikes in the heavy silence of the room.
Beside Min-soo, lawyer Jung sat in a defensive posture, placing his leather briefcase like an invisible barrier between his client and the detective. Min-soo, meanwhile, sat upright—an attitude he had mastered on stage—but the fingers fidgeting at his sleeve betrayed what lay behind the mask.
Detective Kim exhaled deeply, cracked his knuckles, and said in an almost casual tone, eyes fixed somewhere beyond Min-soo's head:
"Mr. Park Min-soo… can you tell me how your day went before that interview?"
Min-soo took a steady breath, keeping his voice controlled.
"It was an ordinary day."
Suddenly, Kim leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them, and whispered:
"Mr. Park… define 'ordinary.' A performer of your caliber avoids televised interviews for eight years, then suddenly appears. I don't think such a day can be called ordinary."
Min-soo's eyelashes trembled rapidly.
He inhaled and answered:
"I mean… a normal routine before work. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, except for the interview that night."
"And when did you arrive?" Kim asked, his eyes tracking every movement of Min-soo's eyelids.
"I don't remember the exact time…" Min-soo rubbed his neck. "But I arrived about an hour and a half before the interview began."
"Who was in the backstage area?" Kim continued calmly.
"The entire staff… the director, producer, camera crew…" Min-soo paused, swallowing hard. "And… Woo-jin, of course."
"Did Woo-jin say anything important?" Kim tilted his head slightly.
Min-soo went silent. His fingers interlocked tightly until his knuckles turned pale.
"It was all about preparation… camera angles."
Kim leaned in further, a faint glint in his eyes.
"Did you see any woman who didn't belong to the crew speaking with Woo-jin?"
Min-soo thought for a moment.
"I don't know everyone on the crew to identify who looked out of place… but one person caught my attention."
"A young woman wearing a cap and a mask… with long pink hair."
Kim's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Other than that… did you notice anything unusual?"
At that moment, Min-soo's knee trembled under the table. Lawyer Jung noticed and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, cutting in sharply:
"Detective, be specific. What do you mean by 'unusual'? We are here to give testimony, not interpret assumptions."
Detective Kim exhaled as if releasing pressure from his chest, then looked directly at Min-soo.
"Very well… did the victim, Woo-jin, seem tense?"
Min-soo lifted his gaze.
"Yes… I heard him speaking quietly on the phone in the back corridor. He was pacing back and forth quickly. He seemed extremely tense."
Kim nodded, then delivered the final blow.
"Did you two talk?"
Min-soo stiffened completely. Images exploded in his mind: Woo-jin's necklace with the W, rain, the scream of a saw, a desperate voice begging please don't kill me!
He exchanged a brief glance with his lawyer—an unspoken agreement—then nodded.
"Yes."
"Details?"
"I don't remember everything… but it was about my return. He said he was proud that his program was the one that brought me back to interviews after eight years."
A sly expression appeared on Kim's face as he leaned back, hands clasped behind his head.
"Isn't it suspicious… that a performer who dances before thousands but refuses interviews for eight years chooses Woo-jin specifically… and that same night ends with Woo-jin's death?"
Lawyer Jung slammed the table.
"Detective Kim, my client is a witness, not a suspect. Stop this provocative tone."
Kim raised a hand dismissively, then ended the recording with a cold press of his finger.
"That concludes today's session."
He thanked Min-soo and left.
At the same time, Mrs. Young-ja was closing her restaurant when she sensed footsteps behind her in a narrow alley. She turned quickly—no one. She walked faster, but the footsteps returned, closer.
Panic rising, she tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth.
A soft voice whispered:
"Ma'am… it's me, Hemi."
Young-ja froze, then turned sharply in anger.
"You again?! Haven't you given up? You nearly scared me to death—I'm an old woman!"
Hemi apologized desperately and suddenly fell to her knees, crying:
"Please… tell me what happened that night!"
"I told you," Young-ja snapped. "I don't know anything."
Hemi cried harder.
"You don't know who that child is anymore… he's a man now. A good man. But broken. If you don't tell me, I know he'll collapse completely… please… what are you afraid of?"
Young-ja hesitated, then said quietly:
"Come inside. Let's talk."