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

A guide leads me through corridors lined with state-of-the-art equipment, past laboratories where white-coated technicians bent over microscopes and computer screens. Finally, we arrive at a conference room where other participants are already gathered.

Five people turn to look as I enter. The guide gestures for us to introduce ourselves.

A young woman with bright eyes steps forward first. "I'm Officer Lee Minjoo from Busan Metropolitan Police," she says with a smile. As her eyes land on me, they widen in recognition. "Oh my god, you're the detective from the Zen gang case! I'm such a fan of your work!"

Her enthusiasm catches me off guard, and I feel a flush of embarrassment as the others look at me with renewed interest.

"I'm Detective Choi Seunghoon from Daegu," a tall man introduces himself next. "What Zen gang case?"

Officer Lee launches into an excited explanation, detailing not just the recent case but some of my previous work as well. She even mentions the TV broadcast, much to my chagrin.

As she finishes, I can see impressed looks on most faces. A shorter, friendly-looking man nods appreciatively. "Detective Park Jinyoung, Gwangju Metropolitan Police. It's an honor to meet you."

Next, a woman with a no-nonsense demeanor introduces herself. "Detective Kim Eunji, Incheon Metropolitan Police. Looking forward to working with you all."

Finally, a man with a stern expression steps forward.

"Detective Sung Ilyong, Seoul Metropolitan Police." His voice is cold as he continues, "So what? He probably just got lucky. I bet he used connections to get into the Seoul Metropolitan Investigative Unit. He didn't even attend the Korean National Police University like others had to."

The accusation hangs in the air, and I feel a mix of anger and frustration rising. But before I can respond, the door opens and our instructor walks in.

He's a tall man with graying hair at his temples, his posture speaking of both medical precision and police authority. "Good morning, everyone," he says, his voice commanding immediate attention.

"I'm Dr. Kim Jaesung, and I'll be leading your forensic training this week."

As Dr. Kim begins to outline the program, the tension from Detective Sung's earlier accusation dissipates, replaced by a sense of anticipation for what we're about to learn. I push the unpleasant interaction to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the opportunity before me.

Whatever preconceptions my fellow participants might have, I'm determined to make the most of this experience and prove my worth through my work, not my reputation.

Dr. Kim stands before us in the conference room, his expression serious. "Before we begin, I want to emphasize something," he says, his voice carrying a note of gravity. "This course is short but incredibly intense. We'll be covering a vast amount of material in a very limited time."

He looks each of us in the eye, his gaze lingering a moment longer on me. "I expect everyone to pay close attention to every session. The knowledge you gain here could be the difference between solving a case and letting a criminal walk free. Are we clear?"

We all nod, the atmosphere in the room growing more serious.

"Good," Dr. Kim continues. "Now, let's begin with our first practical session. Follow me to the inspection room."

He leads us through a series of sterile corridors, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the polished floors. The smell of disinfectant grows stronger as we approach our destination. We enter a large, cold room dominated by a stainless steel table at its center. On the table lies a body covered with a white sheet.

"Today," Dr. Kim begins, his voice echoing slightly in the room, "we'll be discussing the basics of autopsy using a hypothetical murder case."

He pulls back the sheet, revealing a realistic dummy designed for forensic training. "Let's say our victim is a 35-year-old male, found in his apartment. Initial observations show no obvious signs of trauma."

Dr. Kim points to various areas on the dummy. "We always start with external examination. We look for any marks, bruises, or wounds that might not be immediately apparent."

Detective Sung Ilyong nods, his eyes sharp. "We should also check for signs of petechiae in the eyes and mouth, right? Could indicate strangulation."

Dr. Kim looks impressed. "Excellent point, Detective Sung. Indeed, petechial hemorrhages can be crucial evidence in asphyxiation cases."

As the discussion continues, I find myself struggling to keep up. The others seem to have a wealth of knowledge at their fingertips.

Detective Kim Eunji chimes in, "What about toxicology? Shouldn't we be looking for signs of poisoning, especially if there's no obvious trauma?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Kim agrees. "A full toxicology panel is standard procedure. We'd be looking for common poisons, drugs, and any substances that might have contributed to death."

Detective Park Jinyoung raises his hand. "In cases of suspected poisoning, wouldn't we also pay special attention to the state of the internal organs during the autopsy?"

Dr. Kim nods approvingly. "Correct. Certain poisons can cause distinctive changes in organ appearance or texture."

As the conversation flows, touching on topics from rigor mortis to post-mortem lividity, I feel increasingly out of my depth. While I'm familiar with crime scenes, this level of medical detail is new to me.

Officer Lee Minjoo, noticing my silence, gives me an encouraging smile. "This is pretty intense, isn't it? But fascinating!"

I nod, grateful for her friendliness, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm falling behind. Detective Sung, in particular, seems to have an answer for everything, his knowledge clearly honed by his education at the Korean National Police University.

Dr. Kim moves to the side of the dummy, his hand hovering over its surface. "Now, let's discuss one of the most crucial aspects of forensic investigation - determining the time of death. One method we use is algor mortis, or the cooling of the body after death."

He looks around the room, his gaze analytical. "Can anyone tell me the basic principle behind using algor mortis to estimate time of death?"

Detective Sung Ilyong speaks up immediately, his voice confident. "The body temperature drops at a predictable rate after death, approximately 1.5 degrees Fahrenheit per hour, until it reaches ambient temperature."

Dr. Kim nods approvingly. "Excellent, Detective Sung. However, it's not quite that simple, is it? What factors might complicate this calculation?"

Detective Kim Eunji raises her hand. "The environment can play a significant role. Factors like air temperature, humidity, and whether the body is clothed or not can all affect the cooling rate."

"Very good," Dr. Kim says. "Any other factors?"

Detective Park Jinyoung chimes in. "The body's condition before death can also impact cooling. Things like fever, physical exertion, or certain medical conditions can alter the starting body temperature."

I listen intently, trying to absorb every detail.

Dr. Kim continues, "Now, let's consider a scenario. Our victim was found at 10 PM, with a core body temperature of 92°F. The room temperature is a constant 21°C. How would you begin to estimate the time of death?"

Detective Sung jumps in again. "We'd use the standard formula, factoring in the known variables. But we'd also need to consider the plateau phase immediately after death when the body temperature remains relatively stable."

As Sung continues to elaborate on the calculation process, I find myself struggling to follow. The others nod along, clearly familiar with the formulas and concepts he's describing.

As Dr. Kim moves on to discuss the limitations of the algor mortis method and the importance of corroborating it with other time of death indicators, I make a mental note to do some serious studying in my free time.

As the first session wraps up, I gather my notes, my mind still reeling from the wealth of information we've covered. As I'm about to leave the room, Detective Sung Ilyong approaches me, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know," he says, his voice low and condescending, "I've heard about your successful cases. Impressive on the surface, I'll admit. But they all seem to be about using your gut, don't they? Not much practical knowledge involved. I wonder how you'll fare here, where actual expertise is required."

I meet his gaze steadily but say nothing, refusing to engage with his provocation. Without a word, I turn and walk away, leaving Sung standing there with his smug expression.

As I make my way down the corridor, Aileen's voice suddenly pipes up in my head. "What the hell was that?" she demands. "Are you just going to let that jerk talk to you like that? Where's your spine?"

She persists. "Why didn't you argue back? Show him what you're made of!"

"Because I finally understand why Han sent me here," I respond mentally. "I've got a lot to learn, and I'm determined to make the most of this opportunity. I'm not going to waste my time arguing with Sung or anyone else."

Aileen scoffs. "Oh, come on! A little confrontation never hurt anyone. It might even put him in his place."

"No," I insist firmly. "I'm here to learn, not to prove myself to someone like Sung. My work will speak for itself."

"You're no fun," Aileen grumbles. "What happened to the detective with the sharp comebacks?"

I ignore her complaints, focusing instead on reviewing the material from the first session in my mind. As I approach the room for the next class, I steel my resolve. I may be starting from behind, but I'm going to make every second count.

***

The next morning, I arrive at the gathering point for our second day of training, my mind still buzzing with information from yesterday's intense sessions. As I join the group, I notice an unusual tension in the air. The other participants are huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.

"Has anyone seen Detective Sung?" Officer Lee Minjoo asks, her voice tinged with concern.

Detective Kim Eunji shakes her head. "Not since yesterday evening. He's not usually late, is he?"

A feeling of unease settles in my stomach as Dr. Kim enters the room. His eyes scan the group, clearly noticing Sung's absence.

"Good morning, everyone," he begins, his tone professional despite the obvious tension. "Let's get started with—"

Suddenly, the door bursts open. Dr. Kim's assistant rushes in, her face pale and her breathing rapid. She hurries to Dr. Kim and whispers urgently in his ear.

The color drains from Dr. Kim's face. He takes a deep breath, visibly trying to compose himself. When he turns back to us, his expression is grave.

"I'm afraid I have some disturbing news," he says, his voice steady but strained.

"Detective Sung Ilyong has been found dead in his room."