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

I sit at the conference table, surrounded by stacks of documents, some edges still charred from the fire. Han and our team are similarly engrossed, each of us poring over different sections of the recovered papers.

"I think I've found something about Choi's early years," Detective Kim announces, holding up a weathered journal. Her voice draws everyone's attention.

As she reads, a picture begins to form of Choi's beginnings. He was left at the church doorstep as an infant, with nothing but a blanket and a small silver cross. The nuns took him in, raising him as their own. From an early age, Choi showed an intense devotion to religion that went beyond normal childhood faith.

"Listen to this," Kim continues, reading from the journal. "'Young Choi possesses a remarkable understanding of scripture far beyond his years. His dedication to prayer and study is unmatched. Many of us believe he is destined for greatness within the church.'"

The entries detail Choi's growing reputation as a prodigy in theological studies. By his teenage years, he was already being groomed for a leadership role in the church.

"Here's something interesting," Detective Park chimes in from another stack of documents. "Apparently, Choi spent countless hours in the church's ancient archives. He became obsessed with obscure religious texts, particularly those dealing with divine communication."

I lean forward, my interest piqued. "What kind of texts?"

Park shuffles through some papers. "According to these records, he focused on manuscripts about prophets and those who claimed to hear the voice of God. There are notes here in his own handwriting - he believed he'd found a way to establish direct communication with the divine."

Han, who's been quietly reading another set of documents, suddenly straightens. "This is where things take a dark turn," he says grimly. "These papers suggest that what Choi thought was divine communication was actually something far more sinister."

The room falls silent as Han begins to read from his stack of documents. The story that emerges is chilling - Choi's first contact with what he believed was God's voice, his growing influence within the church, and the gradual revelation that the voices he heard were anything but divine.

"Look at this," I say, pulling out a series of letters dated around the time Choi first began claiming to hear voices. "The church leadership, especially Sister Agnes, fully embraced Choi's supposed divine connection. They saw him as their miracle, their direct line to God."

Detective Lee shuffles through another stack. "But it was all a lie. According to these internal memos, the voices Choi heard had a specific agenda. They wanted him to identify and recruit others who could potentially hear them too."

"Here's the most disturbing part," Han says, his voice grave as he reads from a leather-bound journal. "The ultimate goal wasn't divine communion at all. These entities - whatever they were - needed to corrupt enough human souls to open some kind of gateway between their world and ours."

I spread out several documents on the table. "The church became their recruiting ground. Under Choi's direction, and with Sister Agnes's help, they specifically sought out vulnerable people - those who were lonely, desperate, or mentally fragile."

"They used the counseling program as a cover," Kim adds, holding up the flyers we'd found earlier. "But instead of helping these people, they were subjecting them to rituals designed to break down their mental barriers and make them susceptible to the voices."

A heavy silence falls over the room as we piece together the full horror of what the church had become. Sister Agnes's personal journals, some of the last entries she wrote, reveal her growing awareness of the terrible truth.

"She tried to stop it," I say softly, reading from her final entries. "When she realized they weren't serving God but something far darker, she tried to expose the truth. But by then, she was too deeply entangled in it all."

Han stands up, pacing the room. "So let me make sure I understand this: Choi, manipulated by these entities since childhood, turned the church into a recruitment center for collecting corrupted souls. And now..."

"And now they're close to their goal," I finish grimly. "Whatever gateway they're trying to open, they must be getting near the number of corrupted souls they need. That's why they were so desperate to stop us, why they..."

I trail off, remembering Sister Agnes's terrible end. The implications of what we've uncovered are staggering. This isn't just about police corruption or a crooked church anymore - it's about something far more sinister.

I sit at my desk, staring blankly at the documents before me but not really seeing them. My mind is in turmoil, grappling with the implications of what we've discovered.

The voices in my head - Bundy and the others - were they the same sinister entities that corrupted Choi? Have I been unwittingly serving their dark purpose all this time? Every case I solved with their help, every insight they provided... was it all part of some malevolent plan?

A wave of nausea hits me as I remember all the times I relied on their guidance. The pride I felt at solving cases, was it all tainted? Have I been nothing but a pawn in their game, just like Choi?

And their recent silence... is it because we're getting too close to the truth?

I'm so lost in these dark thoughts that I barely notice Han approaching until he's right beside my desk. He takes one look at my face and his expression shifts to concern. Stay tuned to m-v l|e'm,p y r

"Rooftop," he says simply. "Now."

I follow him wordlessly up the stairs. The cool air hits my face as we step out onto the roof, the city sprawling beneath us in the late afternoon light.

"You okay?" Han asks, though we both know I'm not.

"I'm fine," I lie, my voice hoarse.

Han sighs, leaning against the railing. "No, you're not. You're thinking about the voices you hear, aren't you? Wondering if they're the same ones that corrupted Choi."

I nod slowly, grateful that Han understands without me having to explain.

"Listen," he says firmly, "what happened to Choi, what he became... that's not your story. You've used these voices to help people, to solve crimes, to bring justice. That's different."

"Is it?" I ask bitterly. "How can I be sure? What if I've been playing right into their hands all along? And now they've gone silent, ever since we started this investigation. That can't be a coincidence."

Han is quiet for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Maybe their silence is telling. Think about it - if they were the same entities that corrupted Choi, wouldn't they be trying to stop you from investigating? Wouldn't they be trying to mislead you?"

I absorb this, feeling a small glimmer of hope. "Maybe. But still..."

"Look," Han interrupts, "I can't pretend to understand everything that's happening here. But I know you. I've worked with you long enough to know that whatever these voices are, however they came to be in your head, you've used them for good. That has to count for something."

I nod, but the doubt still gnaws at me. The weight of uncertainty, of not knowing whether I've been an unwitting agent of something dark and malevolent, feels almost unbearable.

"And hey," Han adds, a hint of humor in his voice, "at least your voices helped you solve actual crimes instead of trying to open some demonic portal."

Despite everything, I find myself chuckling weakly. Leave it to Han to find a way to lighten even this dark moment.

But as we stand there on the rooftop, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, I can't completely shake the nagging doubt. The voices' silence speaks volumes, and I can't help but wonder what it means for what's to come.

"We need to talk about Choi," Han says, leaning against the railing. "The church documents, the testimonials we're gathering - it's all incredible stuff, but..."

"But it sounds insane," I finish his thought. "No court is going to accept evidence about demonic voices and corrupted souls."

Han nods grimly. "Exactly. We need something concrete, something that ties Choi to actual crimes. The ritual items, the church records - they're important pieces of the puzzle, but they won't stand up in court on their own."

"We still need to secure everything," I say. "Get statements from all the church staff, collect any items used in these rituals. Even if we can't use them as primary evidence, they might help corroborate other charges."

"Agreed. And we need to move fast. After what happened to Sister Agnes..." Han trails off, both of us remembering the horrific scene.

I'm about to respond when the door to the rooftop opens. Officer Park steps out, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, "but you both need to come downstairs. Kang is here."

Han and I exchange surprised looks. Kang had disappeared after giving us the documents about Choi's case manipulation.

"Kang?" Han asks. "Here? Now?"

Park nods. "He says it's urgent."

My heart rate picks up. Kang's previous documents had been crucial in exposing Choi's corruption. If he has more...

"Maybe this is what we need," I say to Han. "Something concrete we can actually use in court."

Han nods, already moving towards the door. "Let's hope so. Because right now, we're sitting on the biggest case of our careers, and we can't prove half of it."