I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

"Can you tell me more about these voices? About what happened to Choi?"

The old nun shakes her head slowly, a sad smile on her face. "I'm not a fortune teller or a shaman, my child. I can only tell you what I observed, what I felt. The specifics... those are lost to time and Choi's own silence."

She pauses, her eyes becoming distant for a moment before refocusing on me with startling intensity. "But one thing is clear to me. Choi, by the time he left us, was completely consumed by that unknown energy. It had eaten away at him, changed him in ways we couldn't fully understand."

Her gaze softens as she looks at me. "You, on the other hand... I can see that you're not yet lost to it. There's still a light in you, a balance. But be careful, child. The path you're walking is treacherous."

I open my mouth to ask another question, but suddenly the nun is overcome by a violent coughing fit. Her frail body shakes with each cough, and I rise from my chair, unsure how to help.

The door bursts open, and the young nun rushes in. "Mother Superior!" she exclaims, hurrying to the old woman's side. She looks at me with a mix of concern and urgency. "I'm sorry, but she needs to rest now. She's been unwell lately."

I nod, understanding but frustrated at the abrupt end to our conversation. "Of course. Thank you for your time, Sister," I say to the old nun once her coughing subsides. "Your insights have been... illuminating."

The old nun manages a weak smile. "Remember, child. Be careful. The truth you seek may come at a great cost."

As I turn to leave, the young nun already fussing over her elderly charge, I can't shake the weight of the nun's words. The parallels between Choi and myself, the warning about the voices, the danger of being consumed - it all swirls in my mind, adding new layers to the mystery I'm trying to unravel.

I step out of the church into the bright sunlight, squinting as my eyes adjust.

As I pull away from the church, Bundy's voice erupts in my head, laced with disgust and irritation.

"Finally! That place was insufferable. All that holiness and righteousness... it's nauseating. Good riddance to that sanctimonious hellhole."

I grip the steering wheel tighter, a question forming on my lips about how this 'voice thing' works, about Bundy's nature and purpose. But I stop myself. I've been down this road before, and the answers are always the same – vague, cryptic, often contradictory.

Instead, my mind drifts to what I've learned in the past about these voices. The idea that other people might be able to hear killers' voices, just like I hear Bundy. Could Choi have been one of them?

I remember the theory that these killer voices visit to help solve cases, to purify their sins and find freedom from hell. But if that's true, how does it explain what Choi allegedly did? Fabricating cases, framing innocent people – that's far from purification or redemption.

A disturbing thought crosses my mind: Could these voices encourage people to do bad things? The idea conflicts with everything I thought I understood about my connection with Bundy. He's been helpful, insightful even, if often in his own twisted way. But what if that's not always the case?

"You're awfully quiet," Bundy's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Don't tell me that old bat's ramblings actually got to you?"

I shake my head, not wanting to engage. The questions swirling in my mind are too complex, too unsettling to voice aloud, even to the entity residing in my head.

As I'm lost in thought, my phone suddenly rings. I glance at the screen – it's Han. I take a deep breath and answer.

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you?" Han's voice comes through, a mix of curiosity and concern.

I hesitate for a moment, deciding how much to reveal. "I'm out following up on some leads for Lee's case," I say, careful not to mention my suspicions about Choi or my visit to the church.

"Ah, good," Han replies, sounding pleased. "Listen, I've got an idea that might help. Have you considered visiting the prison where Lee was previously incarcerated for his other crimes?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No, I haven't. That's a great idea, Han. Thanks."

"No problem," Han says. "I've got a friend working there. I'll send you his contact details. He might be able to give you some insights into Lee's behavior during his time there."

Gratitude washes over me. Despite everything that's happened, despite my growing suspicions about the entire system, Han has consistently been in my corner. "Thanks, Han. I really appreciate your help."

"Don't mention it," he responds, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

As I wait for Han to send me the contact information, I can't help but feel grateful for his unwavering support. In a world where I'm starting to question everything and everyone, Han's steadfast presence is a comfort.

***

I pull up to the imposing gates of the local prison, the gray concrete walls stretching high into the sky. The facility sits isolated on the outskirts of Seoul, a stark reminder of society's boundaries.

As I step out of my car, a man in a crisp uniform approaches, his face set in a professional mask but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Detective Park Minjun?" he calls out.

I nod, extending my hand. "That's right. You must be Tak."

He shakes my hand firmly. "Yes, Han told me you'd be coming. Said it's part of an ongoing investigation?"

"That's correct," I confirm, grateful once again for Han's foresight. "I'm looking into Lee Chunsik's case."

Tak's eyebrows raise slightly at the name. "Ah, the serial killer from the news. Nasty business, that."

I nod, not wanting to reveal too much. "I was hoping to learn more about Lee's time here. Anything you can tell me about his behavior, his interactions, could be helpful."

Tak considers for a moment, then nods. "I wasn't directly involved with Lee during his stay here, but I know someone who was. There's a warder who managed his cell block. I can introduce you to him if you'd like."

Relief washes over me. This could be exactly the kind of insight I need. "That would be great, thank you."

Tak leads me through a series of security checkpoints, each one reinforcing the gravity of where we are. Finally, we reach a small, sterile meeting room.

"Wait here," Tak says. "I'll send in Officer Yoon. He was in charge of Lee's cell block during his time here."

As Tak leaves, I settle into one of the hard plastic chairs.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door opens and an older man walks in. His weathered face and sharp eyes speak of years of experience within these walls.

"Detective Park? I'm Officer Yoon," he introduces himself, extending a hand.

I shake it, noting the firmness of his grip. "Thank you for meeting with me, Officer Yoon. I appreciate your time."

Yoon settles into the chair across from me. "So, you're here about Lee Chunsik. What do you want to know?"

I lean forward slightly. "Anything you can tell me about his time here. His behavior, his interactions with others, any patterns you noticed."

Yoon nods, his eyes distant as he recalls. "Lee was... unremarkable in many ways. Quiet, well-behaved. Kept to himself mostly."

"Nothing stood out about him?" I press.

Yoon shrugs. "Well, he was popular, in his way. Good-looking guy, you know? That counts for something in here."

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

"But there was one thing," Yoon says, his brow furrowing. "He had a strange sort of... status. Especially among the older, more powerful inmates."

This catches my attention. "What do you mean by that?"

"Lee seemed... protected, somehow. The big shots, the ones who've been here for years and run things from the inside? They took a liking to him. It was odd, given how antisocial he generally was."

I frown, remembering what Lee's wife had told me about his personality. This doesn't add up. "That seems unusual for someone like Lee. His wife described him as difficult to get along with, constantly harassing her. How did he manage to ingratiate himself with these powerful inmates?"

Yoon shakes his head. "That's the thing - he didn't seem to try. It was like they just... accepted him. Looked out for him. I never understood it myself."

A thought occurs to me. "Are any of these inmates still serving time here?"

Yoon nods slowly. "A few, yeah. Why do you ask?"

I take a deep breath, knowing I'm pushing my luck. "Would it be possible for me to speak with one of them?"

Yoon's eyebrows shoot up. "That's... not standard procedure, Detective. I'd need to get approval from higher up."

"Please," I say, trying to convey the importance without revealing too much. "It could be crucial to my investigation."

Yoon hesitates, then sighs. "Let me check with Tak. No promises, though."

As Yoon steps out to make the call, I lean back in my chair, my mind whirling. Lee's behavior in prison doesn't match what I know about him. Something's not adding up, and I have a feeling these older inmates might hold the key.

A few minutes later, Yoon returns, looking somewhat surprised. "Tak's given the go-ahead. Must be some investigation you're running."

Relief washes over me. "Thank you, Officer Yoon. I really appreciate this."
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Yoon nods. "I'll go fetch one of them. Sit tight."