Hwang's eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets when he saw who was there, through the peephole in the door. It had been less than an hour since that woman had left his flat. Yet there she was again, standing in the corridor outside the flat with her wavy hair in a ponytail on top of her head, holding a brown paper bag in front of her body.

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture before turning the key in the lock.

Amélie smiled apologetically, but the smile faded when she laid eyes on the detective's bare chest. She swallowed dryly, her cheeks flushing, as she gazed down at the fluffy white towel draped over the man's shapely hips.

“W-We're not in office hours, right?” She stammered, lifting the bag she was carrying. “It's my apology for yesterday… hm…” she looked down at the contents of the bag and pulled out a bottle of wine. “It's the same one you booked at that restaurant… we didn't even get to drink it and, well, it was too expensive…”

Hwang's eyebrows rose in surprise when Amélie pushed the bag into his chest, visibly embarrassed. It was the same one he had seen on the back seat of her car when he drove to the hospital.

Was that the reason she'd broached the subject earlier? 

“Do you want to drink with me like this, just in a towel?” A half-smile lifted Na-moo's lips.

“What? No!” she retorted hastily, even redder, her eyes prominent on her face.

“I didn't expect that from you, Dr. Zhou…” he shook his head, peering at the contents of the bag. In addition to the wine, a navy blue jacket was inside. From the label and the look of the fabric, it was worth a lot more than the jacket she had set on fire.

“You're confusing things, I just thought I needed to apologize… and well, I've ruined your clothes and I don't want an awkward atmosphere between us, since we're going to be working together!”

“I want to drink that wine tomorrow…” Hwang interrupted her, fixing his eyes on hers. “With you. It's Friday, but Saturday is our day off.”

He could have sworn Zhou's eyebrows were joining her scalp, they were so high.

“You and me… are you serious?”

“Of course, it is. Let's start again. Tomorrow we have office hours until 7pm. I hope to see you here at 8pm.”

“O-Okay…”

Amélie held out her hand at the same time as Na-moo leaned over to pat her twice on the shoulder and, as a result, ended up hitting her head on his chin.

“I'm sorry!” She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Don't be shy… we're both clumsy, don't you think?” The detective pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh, as he massaged his sore chin. “It's getting late, let me know when you get home, Miss Zhou. Have a good night.”

“See you tomorrow, Detective Hwang.”

A small smile lifted the corners of the doctor's full lips before she turned away.

As he watched her leave his flat for the second time that day, Na-moo pondered why he felt so nervous around this woman. He had spent the day thinking that it was because his first date with her had been a failure, resenting the fact that she had destroyed his jacket and embarrassed him. 

Then he just tried to be less critical and grumpy—not to say childish—for the sake of their professional relationship. However, he couldn't have been more wrong about the “failure” of their first date.

That night in the restaurant may have been his first meeting with Amélie Zhou, but it wasn't the first time he had been with Mahalina Zhou. 

At that moment, he finally realized the reason for his unease. 

✛✛

The orange light on the desk covered the papers scattered on top of it. The doctor squeezed the handle of the mug between her fingers, taking a long sip of the strong, bitter coffee. 

After talking to her father, in another brief dialogue with questions like: “How are you?”, “Have you eaten?”, she decided to search the internet for past cases. Of course, she could do this by looking through the files at the police station, but she didn't want to see Hannah's corpse printed on one of the folders.

She didn't need to, as she saw it in her dreams every time she closed her eyes.

Amélie was beginning to feel frustrated that she had nothing in mind that could point to a suspect. She shouldn't feel this way, after all, it was her first day on the job. However, she couldn't help the discomfort that had been lodged in her core since she had been at the scene of the last crime.

The blood of the dead rats dripping on those women's heads… 

Zhou pressed her temples together, an ominous shiver running down her spine and raising the hairs on her arm as she remembered the strong stench in the shed. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of coffee. 

Focus, Amélie. Focus.

She had to keep her mind focussed on finding clues. The murderer was a cunning person, but there had to be some kind of record, or something similar, linking him to the crimes. It was almost laughable that the police were going round in circles, like a hamster in a ball, in the past and at the moment.

Amélie sighed and opened another tab in the search tab. Without realizing it, she typed in Soo-hee Kang. Her eyes suddenly widened.  Soo-hee Kang had been the only clue found in the past, apparently the only person connected to the poem used by the murderer. Although everyone connected to her was considered innocent, perhaps the detectives had missed something when investigating her in the past.

Perhaps Amélie needed to dig up that woman's past again, in secret, because it was strange that she and her family were murdered shortly after the media leaked the police's suspicions about them. However, investigating her at this point in time wouldn't be easy—more than three thousand results appeared on the screen with the woman's name. After applying a few filters, the list dwindled to three hundred contacts. 

The doctor tapped her pen on the paper, thinking about how she could make the list even shorter. Then she remembered the police records again. 

If Soo-hee Kang was a suspect, somewhere in the records her personal information should have been filed…

Thump.

A noise roused her from her reverie. It seemed to be coming from the living room.

Spectral shadows danced on the yellowed wall, due to the light bulb, as she stood up, dragging her chair backwards, and reached for her mobile phone. It was after three in the morning and she was alone in the flat. 

Amélie sighed and walked down the corridor, barefoot. 

The floor under her feet was cold. The living room was even darker than the bedroom. She tried to switch on the lights, but nothing happened.

She cursed lowly. If it was a problem with the circuit breaker again, she'd have to complain to the caretaker. 

But if it wasn't…

Her heart hammered in her eardrums. Her blood felt like ice coursing through her veins as fear churned in her stomach. Amélie hated not being able to see anything, even with her eyes open.

The feeling that lashed at her core was agonizing. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid of the dark. Amélie breathed through her mouth and moistened her lips, checking the lock on the front door. It was locked. 

She almost laughed to herself, until a figure jumped from the kitchen worktop to the floor.

A scream reverberated in the silent flat as something passed between her legs.

The neighbor's cat. 

That cat could only have seven lives, it was the only explanation why it hadn't had an accident, jumping between her flat on the fifth floor and its owner's on the third. It being there meant that she had forgotten the balcony doors were open again.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart beating noisily between her ribs like an excavator. Her trembling fingers pulled the balcony doors shut, then slipped the latch. A flash lit up the sky through the glass as Amélie raised her face.

The reflection of a tall, hooded figure could be seen behind her reflection.

It all happened as quickly as the flash of lightning. 

Amélie didn't have time to scream or run away, as a stinging pain hit her skull when the figure grabbed her wavy locks and slammed her head into the glass.

A viscous trickle ran down her temples and, at the same time, her eyes darkened—her consciousness fading.