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

I stand there, my mind reeling from the horrific discovery. The implications of what we've found are staggering. These people, whoever they are, have been systematically murdering individuals and disposing of their remains. The frozen body parts in the freezer suggest at least three victims, possibly more.

How did they manage to get away with this for so long? The level of organization, the industrial-grade equipment, the remote location - it all points to a well-planned, long-running operation. The thought makes my stomach churn. How many lives have been lost? How many families are out there, wondering what happened to their loved ones?

I glance at Kim, who's still frozen in horror, his eyes fixed on the freezer's grisly contents. We can't afford to fall apart now. Not when we're so close to exposing this nightmare.

"Kim," I say, my voice firm but gentle. "Kim, I know this is horrifying, but we need to focus. We have to alert others."

Kim's eyes slowly meet mine, still wide with shock. I can see him struggling to regain his composure.

"You're right," he finally manages, his voice shaky but determined. "What... what do we do?"

"We stick to the plan," I reply, moving towards the incinerator. "We need to create as much smoke as possible. Help me gather everything we can burn."

We spring into action, grabbing anything flammable we can find - old papers, cardboard boxes, even some discarded clothing. We stuff it all into the incinerator, careful not to touch anything that might be evidence.

Finally, the incinerator is packed full. I locate the control panel, my hand hovering over the start button. This is it. Once we activate this, there's no turning back. Our captors will know something's wrong, and we'll be in a race against time.

I look at Kim, seeing my own mix of fear and determination reflected in his eyes.

"Ready?" I ask.

He nods grimly.

I take a deep breath and press the button. The machine roars to life, and within moments, we can see smoke beginning to billow from the chimney.

As the incinerator roars to life, I turn to Kim, expecting to see relief on his face. Instead, I find him kneeling beside Shin's body, tears streaming down his cheeks. His shoulders shake with silent sobs.

"Kim?" I approach him cautiously, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looks up at me, his eyes red and swollen. "It was Shin," he chokes out. "Shin freed me."

Kim reaches out, gently closing Shin's eyes. "But before we could make our move, they came back. Shin... he told me to pretend I was still tied up. He said he'd create a distraction."

Kim's voice breaks as he continues. "He attacked them as soon as they entered. Fought like a man possessed. But there were too many of them. They beat him badly. I tried to help, but..."

He trails off, overcome with emotion. "The last thing I remember is Shin on the ground, not moving."

"Kim," I say softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Shin's sacrifice won't be in vain. We're going to make sure of that."

Kim nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He takes one last look at Shin's body, then stands up, a new determination in his stance.

"You're right," he says, his voice stronger now. "For Shin. For all of them."

As we turn our attention back to the rumbling incinerator and the smoke billowing from it, I silently thank Shin for his bravery.

As the incinerator continues to roar, sending our desperate smoke signal to the world above, Kim and I snap into action. We know it's only a matter of time before our captors realize what's happening.

"We need to secure this door," I say urgently, scanning the room for anything we can use.

Kim nods, already moving. "There's a metal shelf over here. We can use it as a barricade."

Together, we drag the heavy shelf across the room, the screech of metal on concrete setting our teeth on edge. We position it against the door, wedging it tightly.

"It's not much, but it might buy us some time," I mutter, stepping back to survey our work.

Suddenly, angry shouts echo from somewhere in the complex. The words are indistinct, but the tone is unmistakable – they've discovered we're missing.

Kim's face pales. "They know."

We exchange a grim look, both of us knowing what comes next. Sure enough, within moments, we hear multiple sets of footsteps pounding down the corridor towards us.

"They're in the fucking incinerator room!" a muffled voice yells from outside.

The door handle rattles violently, followed by a series of thuds as they attempt to force their way in. Our makeshift barricade holds, but for how long?

"You sons of bitches!" another voice snarls. "Open this door now, or we'll blow it off its hinges!"

Kim and I press our bodies against the shelf, adding our weight to the barricade. The door shudders with each impact, the metal groaning in protest.

"We just need to hold out until help arrives," I say through gritted teeth, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

A gunshot rings out, the sound deafening in the confined space. The bullet punches through the door, missing us by inches.

"Jesus!" Kim gasps, his eyes wide with fear.

More shots follow, peppering the door. We duck down, using the shelf as cover, praying that our signal has been noticed, that help is on the way.

"If we get out of this alive," Kim shouts over the din, "remind me to put in for a raise!"

Despite the gravity of our situation, I can't help but let out a short, breathless laugh.

The door buckles slightly under another heavy impact. We push back harder, our muscles straining. It's us against them now, in a desperate race against time.

Time seems to stretch endlessly as we continue to brace against the door. The relentless pounding and shouting from our captors suddenly ceases, leaving an eerie quiet broken only by the rumble of the incinerator.

Kim and I exchange wary glances, not daring to speak. Has it worked? Have they given up? Or is this just the calm before an even worse storm?

Minutes tick by, feeling like hours. The incinerator's roar makes it difficult to discern any subtle sounds from outside. We remain vigilant, muscles tense, ready for anything.

Suddenly, the relative quiet is shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. It's distant, muffled, but unmistakable. More shots follow, accompanied by indistinct yelling.

"What's happening out there?" Kim whispers, his eyes wide.

I shake my head, not wanting to voice my hopes aloud. "I don't know. But something's definitely going down."

We stay silent, straining our ears to make sense of the commotion outside. The gunfire seems to be moving, getting closer, then farther away again. Shouts echo through the complex, but we can't make out the words.

The incinerator, having finished its cycle, begins to wind down. As its roar fades to a low hum, the sounds from outside become clearer. Footsteps, lots of them, moving with purpose.

Then, a voice. A familiar voice that sends a surge of relief through my body.

"Detective! Park! Are you in there?" It's Han, his voice urgent but controlled.

Kim and I look at each other, hardly daring to believe it. Could it really be over?

"Inspector Han?" I call out, my voice hoarse. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Han responds, relief evident in his tone. "We've secured the complex. Are you both alright?"

With shaking hands, Kim and I begin to move the shelf away from the door. "We're okay," I reply. "But there's a lot you need to see in here, Han. It's... it's worse than we thought."

As we open the door, I see Han's face, a mix of concern and determination. Behind him, I can see other officers securing the area, some leading handcuffed suspects away.

"You did good," Han says, clasping my shoulder. "Both of you. That mobile phone you dropped was a stroke of genius - led us right to the house. And that smoke signal? Brilliant. We knew something was up underground."

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips despite our exhaustion.

As we begin to move through the complex, the reality of our rescue sinking in, I turn to Han with a pressing question.

"Is everyone okay?" I ask, my voice laced with concern. "The team, I mean. This couldn't have been an easy operation."

Han's expression turns grave, but there's a hint of relief in his eyes. "We had some injuries," he admits, his voice low. "Two officers took bullets, but thankfully, nothing life-threatening. They're already on their way to the hospital."

I feel a pang of guilt, knowing that officers were hurt coming to our rescue. Han, sensing my distress, quickly continues.

"They'll be fine," he assures me. "And their injuries weren't in vain. We managed to capture all the suspects."

This catches both Kim's and my attention. "All of them?" Kim asks, a mix of surprise and hope in his voice.

Han nods, a grim satisfaction in his expression. "Seven men in total. We've got them all in custody now. They put up a fight, but once we breached the house and discovered the underground complex, they didn't stand a chance."

"Seven," I mutter, the number turning over in my mind.

"Any idea who they are?"

"Not yet," Han replies. "We're running their prints and faces through our databases now. But given what we've seen so far, I have a feeling this case is going to lead us down some very dark paths."

"Han," I say, my voice grave. "There's a lot you need to see. This goes far beyond what we initially thought."

Han's expression turns serious. He nods, understanding the weight behind my words.