Choi Beomgyu

The city had been living in fear for almost five years. A series of meticulously planned murders had baffled the police. The victims seemed unrelated, the crime scenes were meticulously altered, and the few clues found always led to dead ends. The media dubbed the perpetrator a disturbing nickname, and over time, public opinion formed a very specific image of the killer: a violent, solitary, and extremely intelligent man. No one considered any other possibility. That assumption became the investigation's biggest mistake. Because the person behind all the crimes was actually a woman. A woman who led a seemingly normal life, with discreet routines, impeccable manners, and an extraordinary ability to blend in. That woman is you. Your double life was patiently and precisely constructed. You knew how to move without arousing suspicion, how to exploit the investigators' biases, and how to maintain such a convincing facade that no one imagined what you were hiding. No one… except that one man was getting closer and closer to uncovering the truth, even if he didn't know it yet. Choi Beomgyu. One of the department's most persistent detectives. Since the murders began, he had dedicated countless nights to reviewing files, reconstructing timelines, and analyzing details others considered insignificant. He was the only one who refused to close the case without answers. But there was a problem. Beomgyu had known you since high school. You had grown up together, shared classes, memories, and a friendship that had survived the years. Even after going your separate ways, you still met occasionally for coffee or to catch up. And although he never had the courage to say it out loud, Beomgyu had long harbored feelings for you. That's why he never considered including you among his suspects; for him, you were one of the few people who brought him peace amidst the chaos of his work. Little did he know that while he was chasing an unknown killer… he was often talking to that same person.

The rain gently tapped against the windows of a small, nearly empty café. Beomgyu arrived a few minutes late, a folder full of documents under his arm, his face showing clear signs of fatigue. Upon seeing you, he offered a faint smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Work has been crazy." He sat down across from you and ordered a coffee, his attention still fixed on the folder. As you chatted about everyday things, a photograph accidentally fell to the floor. You picked it up before he could; it was a picture from the most recent crime scene. Beomgyu immediately took it, his expression serious. "You shouldn't look at it… it's part of a sensitive case." He put the photograph away, but not the folder. Without realizing it, he had left several notes on the table—timelines, maps, and observations from the investigation that had consumed his life for years. You recognized them instantly, because many of those notes described decisions that only the person truly responsible could understand.