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

He nods almost imperceptibly, still not looking up.

I open the file, laying out some photographs. "Can you tell me where you were on the evening of March 15th?"

For a moment, there's no response. Then, as if a switch has been flipped, Jae-hoon's demeanor changes dramatically. He looks up, his eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"Please," he says, his voice trembling. "There's been a terrible mistake. I would never hurt anyone, especially not children. I love working at the daycare. Those kids... they're like family to me."

I keep my expression neutral, despite my surprise at this sudden shift. "Jae-hoon, please answer the question. Where were you on March 15th?"

He leans forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table. "I was at the library, studying for my engineering exam. You can check the security cameras. Please, you have to believe me. I'm innocent!"

His voice rises, taking on a frantic edge. "I volunteer at the daycare. I read to the children. I help them with their art projects. Ask anyone there – they'll tell you I'm kind and gentle. How could you think I'd do something so horrible?"

Tears are now streaming down his face. "My mother... oh god, my poor mother. She must be so worried. Can I call her? Please, I need to tell her this is all a misunderstanding."

I maintain my composure, despite the unsettling contrast between this display and the chilling smile I saw earlier. "We'll get to that, Jae-hoon. Right now, I need you to focus on answering my questions."

"Of course, of course," he nods vigorously, wiping his eyes. "I'll answer anything. I have nothing to hide. I'm a good person, I swear. This is all just a terrible mistake."

I lean forward, spreading out the damning evidence we've collected. Photos of Jae-hoon near abduction sites, the detailed notebook found in his dorm, statements from Mr. Jang about his late-night roof access.

"Jae-hoon, we have you on camera near where each child disappeared. We found trophies from the victims in your possession. Your notebook contains plans that match the rooftop network exactly. How do you explain this?"

Jae-hoon's eyes widen, his lip quivering. "I... I don't understand. Those must be mistakes. I would never... The notebook is for a school project.

The items, I... I found them. I was going to turn them in, I swear!"

His continued denials in the face of overwhelming evidence grate on my nerves. I feel my composure slipping.

"Stop lying!" I snap, slamming my hand on the table. "We know it was you. All the evidence points to you. Just admit it!"

Jae-hoon flinches at my outburst, then his demeanor subtly shifts. He leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I know who you are," he says, his eyes boring into mine.

I freeze, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

A small, knowing smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "I can see it in your eyes. I know what you're hiding inside. We're not so different, you and I."

For a moment, my mind reels. Could he possibly know about the voice? About Manson? But that's impossible. I quickly shake off the thought.

"You don't know anything about me," I say firmly, trying to regain control of the interrogation.

Jae-hoon leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. "I can see it, you know. In your eyes. That glint... it's unmistakable. The trait of a killer."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I feel the blood drain from my face. This can't be happening. First Manson's voice in my head, and now this flesh-and-blood suspect echoing those same haunting thoughts.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

Jae-hoon's gaze doesn't waver. "Oh, but I do. We recognize our own kind, don't we? That darkness inside... it calls to us."

I shake my head vigorously, trying to clear it. "Enough of this. We're here to talk about you, Jae-hoon. About what you've done."

"What I've done?" Jae-hoon repeats, and suddenly that smile I saw earlier returns, spreading slowly across his face. It's chilling, devoid of warmth or remorse.

"Alright, detective. You want to know what I've done? I'll tell you."

And then, as if a dam has broken, the confessions pour out. Jae-hoon describes each abduction in meticulous detail - how he chose the children, how he lured them away, the thrill of the chase across the rooftops. He speaks of the murders with a detached fascination, as if recounting an interesting science experiment.

"The last one," he says, leaning in conspiratorially, "she fought so hard. Such spirit. It was... exhilarating."

I feel nauseous, but I force myself to keep listening, to record every damning word. This is what we needed - a full confession. But the way he's delivering it, with pride rather than remorse, makes my skin crawl.

Jae-hoon's voice softens, taking on an almost wistful tone. "You know, I've been fighting this... this devil inside me for so long. I thought I was alone in the world, the only one cursed with these urges, these thoughts."

His words send a chill down my spine. I want to interrupt, to shut him down, but something holds me back.

"But now," he continues, his eyes boring into mine, "I know I'm not the only one. There's a strange comfort in that, isn't there? Knowing you're not alone?"

I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. Jae-hoon's smile returns, knowing and triumphant.

"I'm done hiding," he declares. "I am what I am. And so are you, detective. So are you."

With that, Jae-hoon falls silent. His confession hangs in the air between us, damning and final. The case is solved. We have our killer. It should feel like a victory, but instead, I'm left with a gnawing unease.

As I stand to leave the interrogation room, my mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. How could Jae-hoon see something in me that I've tried so hard to deny? Is there really a darkness inside me, similar to his? Or is this just another manipulation, a last attempt to unsettle me?

The voices in my head - Manson's taunting praise, Jae-hoon's understanding tone - seem to blend together, raising questions I'm not sure I want answered. Am I really so different from the killer I've just caught? Is the line between detective and criminal as clear as I've always believed?

As I close the door behind me, leaving Jae-hoon to his fate, I can't shake the feeling that this case has changed me. It's forced me to confront aspects of myself I've long ignored. And as I walk down the hallway, I'm left wondering: in catching this monster, have I awakened one within myself?

***

The shrill ring of my phone pierces the silence of my darkened apartment. I've been ignoring calls for weeks, but the name on the screen makes me pause. Han. I can't avoid him forever.

With a deep sigh, I answer. "Hello?"

"Finally," Han's voice comes through, not angry as I expected, but filled with concern. "How are you holding up?"

His compassionate tone catches me off guard. "I... I'm not sure," I admit.

"Listen," Han says softly, "I know what you're going through. I've been there myself."

I sit up, surprised. "You have?"

"Of course. These serial killer cases... they get into your head. Their minds aren't something we're equipped to understand, not really. But we try, don't we? We immerse ourselves in their psyche, trying to catch them.

Sometimes, it leaves a mark."

His words resonate deeply, echoing my own thoughts.

"What Jae-hoon said to you," Han continues, "about not being the only one? He was right, but not in the way he meant. You're not alone in this struggle. Many of us, the ones who dive deep into these cases, we all go through something similar. It's not because we're like them. It's because we care so damn much about stopping them."

I feel a weight lifting from my chest as Han speaks.

"So come on," he urges gently. "Stop hiding. Come back to work. We need you, and I think you need this too. Don't let Jae-hoon's words define you."

As I hang up, I realize Han is right. I've been letting my fears control me, letting Jae-hoon's manipulation linger even after the case was closed.

With newfound determination, I get up and head to the shower. The warm water washes away weeks of doubt and self-recrimination. As I dress for work, I feel a sense of purpose returning.

Jae-hoon was wrong. The voice in my head isn't the mark of a killer – it's the burden of someone who cares deeply about justice, who's willing to confront the darkness to protect others.

With this new resolve, I step out into the morning light, ready to face whatever challenges await at the office. The voices might still be there, but now I understand them for what they are – echoes of the darkness I've faced, not harbingers of what I might become.