The trauma of discovering her brother's body had carved a hollow space inside Kim Soo-jin. In the days that followed, she moved through the rooms of her own home like a ghost, the vibrant, sometimes reckless woman replaced by a pale, listless shadow. She spent most of her time in her bedroom, the curtains drawn against the indifferent daylight. The food her husband, Hyun-woo, brought her often went untouched, growing cold on the bedside table.

Hyun-woo watched her with a heart heavy with dual concerns—for his wife and their unborn child. One afternoon, he entered quietly, carrying a fresh bowl of hearty soup. He sat on the edge of the bed, his voice soft but insistent.

"Soo-jin-ah," he murmured, placing a hand on her arm. "You have to eat something. Please, think about the baby. He needs nourishment. For his sake, please try."

Soo-jin turned her head slowly on the pillow. Her eyes, dull with grief, focused on his worried face. The mention of the baby, the last fragile piece of her brother's world, sparked a flicker of life within her. After a long moment, she gave a weak, almost imperceptible nod. "Alright," she whispered, her voice raspy from disuse.

As Hyun-woo helped her sit up to eat, she looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Can you…" she began, her voice barely audible. "Can you please take me to the detectives? I need to talk to them."

Hyun-woo’s first instinct was to refuse, to protect her from the stress. But the determination in her sunken eyes was undeniable. "Yeah," he said gently. "Of course. But here's a better idea. You finish the food I brought you, and I will call Detective Seo. We can have him come here. You can say everything you need to say in your own home, where you're comfortable."

Relief washed over Soo-jin’s features. She nodded again, this time with more conviction, and began to slowly sip the soup.

Hyun-woo made the call. An hour later, Senior Detective Jae-hyun stood in the doorway of Soo-jin’s bedroom. She was struggling to push herself upright, her pregnant body cumbersome and weak.

"Mrs. Choi, please don't," Jae-hyun said, raising a calming hand. His voice was serious, but not unkind. "In your condition, you should not strain yourself. Please, just sit. You can say everything you need to from right there."

Soo-jin sank back against the pillows, her breath shallow. She looked at the detective, her gaze sharpening, the fog of her depression parting to reveal a core of pure, cold certainty.

"Selena," she said, the name a venomous dart. "Selena is the killer. I can guarantee you."

Jae-hyun remained still, his expression giving nothing away. He had expected grief, anger, maybe wild accusations. But the flat, absolute certainty in her tone was striking.

"That would be impossible, Mrs. Choi," he replied, his voice level. "We have already checked her alibi, very thoroughly. The time frame when your brother was killed coincides with a celebrity volleyball match. Selena was in the front row, which was broadcast live on national television. Her presence was documented by multiple cameras and thousands of witnesses."

Soo-jin’s face contorted in frustration. "But—" she started, desperate to dismantle the unshakeable logic.

Jae-hyun cut her off gently but firmly. "Suspicious? Yes. We are looking into her connections. But the killer? No. It is a physical impossibility."

He left the words hanging in the quiet room, a statement of fact that seemed to crush the last of Soo-jin's hope. The evidence was a fortress, and her certainty was nothing but a voice shouting at its impenetrable walls.