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

After what feels like an eternity, the door opens again. Officer Yoon enters, followed by a man who seems to fill the entire doorway. This must be Mr. Chun.

My first impression is one of sheer physical presence. Chun is a big man, easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders that speak of a lifetime of hard labor or fighting – or both. Despite his advanced age, evident in his deeply lined face and salt-and-pepper hair, there's an undeniable aura of power about him.

What strikes me most, however, is his demeanor. Chun's face is a mask of indifference, his dark eyes surveying the room with a kind of detached boredom. He doesn't seem bothered by being brought in for questioning, nor does he appear curious about why he's here. It's as if nothing in this world can touch him anymore.

Yoon gestures for Chun to sit across from me, then hands me a file. "This is Mr. Chun's record," he says quietly. "He's serving a life sentence. Been here for... how long now, Chun?"

"Twenty-three years, four months, and sixteen days," Chun responds, his voice a low rumble. There's no emotion in his tone – just a statement of fact.

I open the file, scanning its contents quickly. What I see makes me raise my eyebrows. Chun isn't just any lifer – he's at the top of the inmate hierarchy. His record shows a history of controlling prison operations, mediating disputes between rival groups, and even influencing guard rotations.

Looking up from the file, I meet Chun's impassive gaze. This man has seen it all, done it all within these walls. If anyone knows the truth about Lee Chunsik's time here, it's him.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Chun," I begin, trying to keep my voice steady under his unwavering stare.

Chun shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of his massive shoulders. "Not like I had anything better to do today," he says, a hint of dark humor in his voice.

I glance at Yoon, who nods and moves towards the door. "I'll be right outside if you need anything," he says before stepping out, leaving me alone with this imposing figure.

As the door closes, I take a deep breath. I lean forward slightly, keeping my voice level. "Mr. Chun, I'm here to talk about Lee Chunsik."

At the mention of Lee's name, I see a flicker of emotion cross Chun's face. It's brief - just a tightening around the eyes, a slight twitch of his mouth - but it's there. It's the first crack I've seen in his impassive facade.

But as quickly as it appeared, it's gone. Chun's face settles back into its mask of indifference. "Lee? Don't know what you're talking about. Got nothing to say about him."

I press on, sensing there's more beneath the surface. "I heard Lee was close to you during his time here. That you and your... associates... took him under your protection."

Chun remains silent, his eyes fixed on a point just over my shoulder. The lack of denial is telling.

"Mr. Chun," I continue, my voice taking on a more urgent tone, "I'm not here to cause trouble for you or anyone else. I'm just trying to understand Lee. Officer Tak mentioned that you and your group protected Lee, seemingly for no reason. That doesn't make sense to me."

Still, Chun says nothing. But I can see a subtle tension in his jaw, a slight narrowing of his eyes. He's listening, even if he's not responding.

I decide to take a risk. "Look, Mr. Chun, we both know there had to be a reason. Someone like you, with your status in here, you don't protect someone for nothing. What was it about Lee? What made him valuable to you?"

Chun's eyes finally meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flash of... something. Anger? Fear? It's gone before I can identify it.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Detective," Chun says, his voice low and controlled. "Lee was just another inmate. Nothing special about him."

I take a deep breath, deciding to change my approach. If Chun truly cared about Lee, maybe this will get him to open up.

"Mr. Chun," I begin, my voice soft but urgent, "I think Lee might be in danger. He's confessing to crimes I'm not sure he committed. I have reason to believe he's being forced to take the fall for something much bigger."

Chun's expression shifts subtly. The mask of indifference cracks, revealing a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I lean in closer. "Lee's confessed to multiple murders. It doesn't add up. I think someone's using him, and I'm trying to figure out why."

Chun's brow furrows, a mix of emotions playing across his face. "I've heard rumors," he admits slowly. "Whispers about Lee. But in here, it's hard to know what's true and what's just talk."

I lean forward, sensing Chun's growing interest. "Mr. Chun, I'm willing to tell you everything I know about Lee's current situation. Is there anything specific you want to know?"

Chun's demeanor shifts, a spark of genuine curiosity lighting up his eyes. "What's really going on with him? I've heard bits and pieces, but nothing solid."

I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "Lee Chunsik is currently in custody, accused of being a serial killer. He's confessed to multiple murders spanning several years, including some that occurred while he was incarcerated here."

Chun's eyebrows shoot up, disbelief etched across his face.

I continue, "The police are painting him as a calculating, ruthless killer. But from what I've uncovered, things don't add up. His confessions are too perfect, too rehearsed. And there are inconsistencies in the evidence."

Chun leans in, his voice low and urgent. "That doesn't sound like the Lee I knew."

I nod, encouraged by his reaction. "Exactly. There's immense pressure on him from all sides. The media's having a field day, portraying him as a monster. The police seem determined to close these cases quickly. And Lee...

he seems resigned, almost like he's given up."

As I speak, I watch Chun's face carefully. The shock in his expression is genuine, his weathered features contorting with a mix of disbelief and concern.

"But why?" Chun asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would he confess to things he didn't do?"

I shake my head. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. I have a theory that he's being coerced somehow, possibly by the same people who used to visit him here. But I can't prove anything yet."

Chun sits back, his eyes unfocused as he processes this information. The mask of indifference he wore earlier has completely fallen away, replaced by a look of genuine worry.

"This isn't right," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "Lee was... complicated. But this? No, something's very wrong here."

I lean in, sensing an opportunity. "Mr. Chun, I need your help to understand what's really going on. Anything you can tell me about Lee's time here, about those visitors, could be crucial. People's lives are at stake, including Lee's."

Chun's eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see a glimmer of resolve in them. It's clear that my words have had an impact, shaking him out of his practiced indifference.

"Alright, Detective," he says, his voice low but determined. "I'll tell you what I know. But you need to understand, this information... it should stay between us."

Chun leans forward, his massive hands clasped on the table. His eyes, once indifferent, now burn with an intensity that catches me off guard.

"Before I say anything else," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "I need your word on something, Detective."

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Promise me you'll make sure Lee is okay. Whatever's happening to him now, promise me you'll do everything in your power to protect him."

The gravity in Chun's voice is palpable. I realize that despite his tough exterior, he genuinely cares about Lee's wellbeing.

"I promise," I say solemnly. "I'll do everything I can to ensure Lee's safety and uncover the truth."

Chun studies my face for a moment, as if gauging my sincerity. Finally, he nods, seemingly satisfied.

"Alright," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Lee... he wasn't just another inmate. He was our lifeline to the outside world."

I lean in, hanging on every word.

"Lee was a smuggler, and a damn good one," Chun continues. "He could get anything into this place - drugs, phones, you name it. But here's the thing that made him special: he never asked for anything in return."

My brow furrows in confusion. "Nothing at all?" Experience exclusive tales on m v|l e'm,p| y- r

Chun shakes his head. "Not a damn thing. Most smugglers, they want a cut of the profits, or favors, or protection. But Lee? He just did it."

Chun leans back in his chair, a distant look in his eyes as he recalls the past. "You know, at first, I tried to figure out how Lee was pulling it off. How he was getting all that stuff in here without a hitch. It was driving me crazy."

I lean forward, intrigued. "What did you discover?"

Chun shakes his head, a wry smile on his face. "That's the thing, Detective. I didn't discover anything. Every time I thought I had it figured out, Lee would do something that threw all my theories out the window."

"Like what?" I press.

"Like bringing in stuff that shouldn't have been possible to smuggle. High-end electronics, specific medication that wasn't on any approved list, even fresh food sometimes. Things that would've been caught by any normal security check."

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

Chun sighs, his massive shoulders rising and falling. "After a while, I just... gave up trying to figure it out. You know why?"

I shake my head, waiting for his explanation.

"Because I realized that if I pushed too hard, if I messed up whatever system Lee had going, it might all come crashing down. And let me tell you, Detective, life in here was a whole lot better with Lee around."

His eyes take on a nostalgic glint. "We had access to things that made this place almost bearable. Good food, entertainment, ways to communicate with the outside world. Hell, there were days it almost felt like we weren't in prison."

"That's why we protected him," Chun says. "That's why I... well, I guess you could say I grew fond of the kid. He was different. Quiet, kept to himself, but he had this... I don't know, this sadness about him.

Like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."