In Your Bones: Chapter 3

[julyfix]

[ Previously...]

Sweat is dripping into Jongdae’s eyes, his shirt and sweatpants soaked with it. He’s been pummeling a punching bag for an hour straight, punches and kicks and muffled yells. He’s angry at so much. Angry at Jongin, for suggesting that he kill Kai instead of arrest him. Angry at Joonmyun for being careless and getting killed. Angry at Kyungsoon for being such an easy target. Angry at Kai for being the epicenter of all these problems.

Most of all, Jongdae is angry at himself.

No amount of training in the academy could have prepared him to deal with a serial killer of this caliber. Things like this happen in movies, not in everyday life. Things like this come out of the suspense and mystery novels that Sehun used to read in college. Jongdae is not a main character. He’s not a protagonist, he’s not the savior.

A badly aimed punch at the bag has Jongdae’s wrist throbbing in pain and he hisses, cradling his hand to his chest and breathing heavily. His knuckles are bloody, the tape securing his wrists fraying a bit around the edges. Taking a few steps back, he does his best to catch his breath. He’s the only one in the training facility, a single, flickering light on overhead. Sitting down heavily on a bench, he puts his elbows on his knees and his fingers in his hair, tugging a few times. Kai hasn’t been seen for two weeks. No bodies have turned up, and Jongdae hasn’t had any ‘friendly’ visits. Everything has gone cold.

Six people have died in the past four months. Six people have had their flesh carved with weird, hieroglyphic-like symbols - six people have died for some weird cause that Jongdae can’t even begin to fathom. It’s all part of something bigger, that he knows. Kai, for all his lunacy, has a method to his madness. Jongdae wants to think that his attacks are at random, that he’s just targeting people who are convenient, but it’s got to be more than that. The evidence is in the fact that Kai didn’t kill that woman, the first night he and Jongdae met face to face. After their encounter he had gone off to find someone else, specifically, to kill.

Jongdae hasn’t found any connections between the victims. None of them knew each other. All of them lived in different parts of the city. Almost all of them had individual careers that didn’t overlap with one another.

There’s one detail that has been on Jongdae’s mind - one that has gotten him to this point, angry and punching at an inanimate object until his knuckles bleed.

All of them knew Jongdae.

Somehow, in some way or another, each one of the victims have come into contact with Jongdae. Joonmyun, a fellow detective. Kyungsoon, his barista. Chanyeol, a bartender that served Jongdae and Sehun once. Baekhyun worked at a record store that Jongdae had bought an album from his freshman year of college. Yixing and Luhan were exchange students that Jongdae tutored in high school.

Varying levels of involvement with Jongdae, varying levels of importance all the way from ‘I haven’t seen them in a decade’ to ‘I see them every day’. This connection, this… red string of fate has tied everything together, and Jongdae doesn’t know what to make of it. Does this mean that he’s going to be a target? Does Kai have something against Jongdae? Why is he going after the people that Jongdae has come into contact with?

Why hadn’t Jongdae seen it sooner?

He really needs a stronger stomach. Thinking about this connection fills him with dread. Who else is at risk? Obviously the men in the precinct. All of them have bullseyes on their backs and they don’t even know it. And what’s worse is that Jongdae doesn’t know who’s going to be targeted next. It could be anyone.

It could be someone outside of the precinct that gets killed. Jongdae can’t even begin to fathom who could be next on Kai’s agenda. Some of the victims he had exchanged polite small talk with and never saw them again.

Groaning, he’s filled with unease as he straightens his back and tilts his chin up so he can look at the flickering light above him. He smiled at a kid today on the street. Would that innocent life be taken? He goes to the same corner store all the time, are the employees there in danger? There are too many possibilities. Too many people who could now technically be considered high risk and Jongdae can’t make heads or tails of it. People close to him, people he doesn’t even know the name of, neighbors, strangers...

He just doesn’t understand. Why is he in the middle of all of it?

Standing up, he grabs a towel from the clean rack against the wall and starts mopping the sweat off of his face and neck. He buries his face in the scratchy linen and presses it between his face and his palms, inhaling the clean detergent, before letting out a slow exhale.

The light flickers off.

“Looks like you’re starting to understand~” comes Kai’s eerie voice, floating in the echoes of the room.

Jongdae goes rigid and lowers the towel. It wouldn’t take much for his adrenaline to jump again. If Kai gets close, could he disable him? The guy seems so scrawny - Jongdae is easily much stronger than him. But is that actually true? Given how many people Jongin has slain? How many capable men Jongin has taken down?

“Why are you killing them?” Jongdae asks the question he’s been trying to find an answer to for almost five months now. He can’t see anything, the room pitch black, and he can’t sense if Kai is anywhere near him.

“I’ll tell you,” Kai sing-songs in that lunatic tone. “Only if you promise to do something about it.”

Jongdae’s jaw clenches. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Ah, that’s for you to decide~” Kai says gleefully. “I will answer three questions to my liking.”

That’s not in Jongdae’s favor. Kai, with his manic state, is likely to be as wishy-washy as ever. Even if Jongdae asks him what two-plus-two is, he might not feel obligated to give him an answer. It’s a gamble. Jongdae has faced a lot of those lately.

“Why are they all people I’ve had contact with?” Jongdae asks into the darkness, staying stock still.

Kai makes a negative noise. “Next question.”

Jongdae’s fingers flex, his bruised knuckles splitting open a bit. “Why the symbols?”

“I’m going to revive it,” Kai replies eagerly. “Once all the elements combine, it will be whole again.”

The first thing that pops into Jongdae’s mind is a cult of some sort. People doing ritualistic killings to meet a higher end. Usually cult killings end in a mass suicide, but Kai is only one person, and as manic as he is Jongdae doesn’t think he’d kill himself so easily.

“What will be whole again?” Jongdae asks.

“The tree!” Kai shouts gleefully. “The tree will be alive again and we will all take what is rightfully ours.”

“What tree?” Jongdae asks, heavily confused.

“Sorry, three questions have been asked~”

“But you only answered two,” Jongdae argues hotly.

“I said I would answer the questions that I liked.”

He’s not wrong. Jongdae wrings the towel in his hands in annoyance. “You said you would answer three questions to your liking.”

Kai hums, seemingly in thought. “That’s true… ok, then. One more question. But I have to like this one or else I won’t answer it.”

Jongdae resists the urge to sigh in irritation. Kai is either incredibly devious, or a child.

“Are you going to kill me?”

There’s a long pause in which Jongdae is pretty sure Kai has disappeared like he did in the corner store. But then a slow chuckle fills the room, one dark and ghostly that makes the hair raise on Jongdae’s body.

“No, Detective. I am not going to kill you.”

The light flickers back on and startles Jongdae enough that he yelps, clutching at his chest and breathing hard. He looks around the room to find himself alone in it, and he feels his stomach starting to heave - he breathes heavily, determined not to throw up. He needs to get a grip on himself. Stumbling towards the lockers, it takes him a few times to unlock his own, and once he does his bag slips from his grip and falls onto the ground. Cursing, he crouches to pick it up, and when he stands he almost has another heart attack.

Jongin is standing at the doorway, looking at Jongdae with a confused twist in his brow. “Jongdae? What are you doing here?” He’s still in his suit, his tie loosened and his briefcase in his hand. He takes in Jongdae’s state, and then blinks. “You look like shit. Are you ok?”

Jongdae lets out a hollow laugh, finally gathering all of his things. He shuts his locker and starts unwrapping his fists, shaking his head. “No, I’m not ok.”

Jongin seems to hesitate. “I know that this case is- I- you’re my best detective, Jongdae.” Now that Joonmyun is dead. “There’s no one else that can handle this case. I know you’ll crack it.”

Jongdae laughs, this time with a bit more bass to it. “Will I? Will I ever fucking figure it out?” He finishes unwrapping his hands and stuffs the tape into his bag, before his shaky fingers try to zip up his duffel. “I’ve seen the motherfucker three times, Jongin. Three times I have seen him face to face and I’m just as lost as I was on the first day.”

“You’ve seen him again?” Jongin can’t hide his surprise. “As in, after the first time you told me?”

Nodding, Jongdae gives up on zipping his duffel bag and picks it up, hauling it over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Jongin takes a few steps closer. “Jongdae, that’s- why haven’t you reported it to me?”

“People are dying,” Jongdae says, irrational anger bubbling in his voice. He has no right to be mad at Jongin. “People are dying and if I’m not careful, more people I know will die.”

Jongin looks perplexed. “Are you saying you’re connected to the victims?”

Jongdae runs his grimy hands over his face, dragging his features down before nodding. “Every single one of them, whether they were a friend or an acquaintance from ten years ago.”

The Chief looks pale under the gross fluorescent lights. “So you’re saying…”

“He said he’s not going to kill me,” Jongdae says quickly. “But for all of this, I don’t know if him keeping me alive at the end will be worth it.” Of course, knowing that people have died, and more people are bound to… Knowing that he, in the midst of it, will come out unharmed is unsettling, to say the least.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jongin says, closing the distance and grabbing Jongdae by the shoulders to give him a light shake. “It’ll be worth it because you’ll catch him, Jongdae. You’re going to catch him and put him away.”

Jongdae doesn’t have the energy to argue. Doesn’t have the energy to bring up the fact that he’s basically buddy-buddy with Seoul’s most vicious serial killer, doesn’t have the energy to mention that he has had more than one opportunity to put cuffs on the man.

Every time Kai has gotten away, a part of Jongdae wonders if he had let it happen.

“Jongdae,” Jongin says softly.

Jongdae looks up. Jongin’s hands are still on his shoulders, grounding him to the real world, his eyes bright and worried.

“You can do it,” Jongin assures him.

It feels a bit like slow motion. One second Jongin’s fingers are squeezing Jongdae’s shoulders, and then Jongdae is watching him lean in, head tilted, lips parted. He could probably count the stubble on the man’s upper lip. And then finally, Jongin’s lips are on Jongdae’s and he’s kissing him, Jongin is kissing Jongdae firmly and comfortingly. How long has it been since Jongdae has been kissed? How long since someone had cared for him?

How long has his Chief harbored romantic feelings for him?

Jongdae reaches up, hands on Jongin’s chest to push him away - not unkindly. Jongdae has never kissed a man before. Never even considered looking at a man in a way that was more than platonic. But he’s not an asshole, and he’s not a homophobe either, certainly. When their lips part Jongin looks a little dazed, starstruck, and Jongdae has to take a step back to create distance between them.

“Jongin,” Jongdae says, voice measured. “That was unacceptable.”

He can see the panic flash through Jongin’s eyes, as if realization of what he had done hits him belatedly. “I- oh my God.”

Jongdae tries to offer a small smile, but it comes out forced. “Relations between a Chief and his officer should stay professional.”

“Right,” Jongin immediately agrees, even if Jongdae is sure he’s just scared shitless that he just kissed one of his male officers. “I- I’m sorry. It was inappropriate of me to assume…”

“I can’t accept your feelings,” Jongdae says. It hurts him, a little bit, that he has to reject Jongin. He respects the man so much, and cares for him deeply as a comrade and a friend. He knows he’s breaking Jongin’s heart. But Jongin is not only his Chief… he’s in danger of being targeted by Kai.

“Of course,” Jongin lets out a frayed laugh, running a hand through his neat hair and staring at the ground. “I um. I’ll lock up. You go ahead and go home, get some rest.”

Jongdae doesn’t hesitate in leaving. He makes sure he has all of his belongings and then walks past Jongin, careful that they’re not within two feet of one another. When he leaves the training center and emerges into the chilly night, he stares up at the black sky.

No stars in the city.

Things have never seemed so complicated.

-

“What the fuck do these even mean?” Sehun’s voice is bordering on a whine as he slumps down in Jongdae’s worn, comfortable couch. The Kai case files are spread over Jongdae’s coffee table, some even in Sehun’s lap, and from the kitchen where he’s cutting a pizza, Jongdae lets out a suffering sigh.

When he comes out with two plates of pizza and two beers, he sits down next to Sehun and shakes his head. Photos of the crime scenes are laid out - specifically, photos of the symbols that Kai has carved into his victims. In silver, bright sharpie Jongdae has outlined each symbol, making it clearly visible as to what it is to the untrained eye. Plus, the sharpie on the paper makes it easier to focus on the symbol and not the rotting flesh it’s cut into.

“I don’t know. I did a bunch of research on ancient symbols from all over the world and nothing is similar. I even went to the university and picked the professors’ brains and no one can find anything remotely similar.” Jongdae cracks open his beer and chugs half of it, setting the can down atop a picture of a cigarette butt, which had been ruled as irrelevant to the crime scene it was next to.

“They look like crop circles,” Sehun grouses, as he takes a bite of pizza, eyes scanning over the photos. Sehun had been pulled off of Joonmyun’s case, and he’d been doing mundane desk work again in the meantime… but he refused to let Jongdae work on the Kai case alone. And they’re breaking a few rules by discussing things like this - Jongdae could get in an enormous amount of trouble for it - but while they’re breaking rules, Jongdae feels like they’re close to a breakthrough.

“Crop circles,” Jongdae snorts, taking a bite of pizza and looking over the symbols again. And again, and again, and… “Crop circles.” Jongdae straightens a bit, something clicking in his head. Setting his pizza aside he wipes his hands quickly on a paper towel, gears turning in his head as he pulls his laptop closer, fingers typing in a few keywords into the search bar. Thousands of results for ‘crop circles’ show up, and Sehun leans closer.

“I was… kidding,” Sehun says slowly, trying to see what Jongdae is seeing.

And Jongdae is seeing a possibility he never thought of before. “I did some cross-referencing of Satanic cults to see if I could find the symbols. Y’know, because the professors at the university mostly deal with things like… Aztecs, or Egyptians. I didn’t think to look at something more modern. The only recognizable symbols that we have are a phoenix and a unicorn. The other symbols don’t really mean much. This one,” Jongdae points at the crime scene photo from Joonmyun’s death, “looks like it might be a water droplet. And this one,” he points to the bartender’s arm, “might be a star?” Jongdae leans back a bit. “Traditionally, in modern symbolism those don’t mean much. A phoenix means rebirth and a unicorn might mean to heal - but no one is using those symbols, religiously or otherwise. And the symbols that I don’t recognize…” he frowns, tapping his fingers over Kyungsoon’s and Luhan’s photos. “They have to have some meaning, like the other ones. There’s no way that they don’t.”

“Wait,” Sehun leans back, tapping on Luhan’s photo. “This one really does look like a crop circle, though. Or maybe- it kind of looks like the ‘on’ button to something high tech, right? If we’re going onto the alien theme.” He exhales, then laughs and shakes his head. “Which is ridiculous by the way. Are you seriously considering that Kai is an alien?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jongdae snorts, waving a hand. “But what if he’s part of some alien cult? His killings are ritualistic. He has an end game, somewhere.” Jongdae feels the vibration of excitement at this epiphany. Is this the break he’s been waiting for?

“If these were cult killings how come they’re only happening in South Korea? Specifically in Seoul?” Sehun frowns.

Jongdae runs a hand through his hair. “Think, think…” he mutters to himself, looking at all of the photos. The mask Kai was wearing the first time they met flashes through his mind, and Jongdae sits up straight. “He’s the leader.”

“What?” Sehun asks.

Jongdae lines up all of the photos of the symbols, from the first to the latest, and then sits back with his knuckles under his chin, staring down at them. “He’s starting something.”

Revive the tree!

Kai’s giggling, manic voice echoes in Jongdae’s head and he shakes it a little, trying to get the voice out. He slaps his cheek a few times, and Sehun stares on, confused.

“What is he starting? This isn’t some sort of anarchy,” Sehun glances down at the photos as well.

Jongdae can’t tell Sehun that he’s met Kai. He can’t tell Sehun that he has been in the midst of a murderer and didn’t do anything about it. One reason is for Sehun’s safety: Jongdae knows that Kai would know the instant he told Sehun about it. The other reason is for Sehun’s sanity. Jongdae knows he’s fragile, even if things for him have returned to relative normalcy.

“I don’t know what he’s starting,” Jongdae says, and he picks up the photo of Luhan’s symbol, eyeing it carefully, thoughtfully. “A power button, huh…?”

“It reminds me of something you see in like, a futuristic movie. Where everything is fingerprint activated and they scan your eyes for your I.D.,” Sehun says, stuffing more pizza in his face. “That looks like it’s supposed to be like some sort of thumb print.

“Yeah,” Jongdae agrees, and then sets the photo down again. He feels a little less lost, now, even if the whole ‘alien’ thing just… boggles his mind. He pulls his laptop closer, “How the hell am I supposed to look up ‘alien cults’...?”

Sehun grins, “You should bring Minseok onto the case. He’d be able to hack into the servers and find you whatever you’re looking for.”

Jongdae hesitates, “I don’t know… When Jongin gave me this case, he gave it to me only. He didn’t give me a team, like he did Joonmyun.”

“You’ve got me,” Sehun shrugs. “Unofficially. And you could have Minseok too. Chief won’t know what he’s doing, Minseok is good at covering up breadcrumbs and no one in our precinct can work the internet like he can.”

Sehun has a very, very good point, and Jongdae can’t ignore the fact that his own computer skills are limited to Naver and Google searches. His conscience, however, is resisting. He can’t get anyone else involved. Then again… Everyone he knows is already at risk, anyway. Minseok is good. And he’s a good man. Biting his knuckle, Jongdae picks up his phone, pulling up Minseok’s contact info.

“Don’t tell a single soul,” Jongdae warns Sehun.

Sehun replies by zipping his lips, grinning huge.

Jongdae hopes he doesn’t come to regret this.

-

Camping out at Jongdae’s apartment on the weekends becomes the norm for Sehun and Minseok. So far they haven’t aroused any suspicion from anyone else in the department or, thankfully, Jongin, about their activities, but they’re never too careful. Things are business as usual at work, and then once they’re in the privacy of Jongdae’s apartment, they scour through everything they’ve gathered throughout the week.

“This is so crazy,” Minseok says from his spot at the kitchen table. He needed a big area for two laptops and a PC, so Jongdae sacrificed half his kitchen to him. Not that they do much in there anyway, since they’ve been living off of take out and frozen dinners.

Sehun and Jongdae rise from the couch to join Minseok in the kitchen, looking over his shoulder.

“What is?” Sehun asks, adjusting the sucker in his mouth.

“I’m not really finding any hits on the symbols,” Minseok says, “but I’ve been doing some digging.”

Sehun groans. “You do know that when they say that in the movies, it turns out that the ‘digging’ was highly illegal and compromised basically everything in the investigation?”

Minseok sends a sunny smile over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Jongdae groans. “What did you get into?”

“Chief’s computer,” Minseok says, rubbing his hands together. “He assigned the case to you, Jongdae, but he’s been doing a lot of digging of his own. Lots of searches for religious symbols, cults, and it even looks like he managed to find his way to the ‘alien’ theory as well.”

“Why are you looking into this?” Jongdae straightens, a hand on his hip while the other runs through his hair in exasperation.

“Why is the Chief busying himself with the investigation that he handed off to someone else? He has hundreds of cases in a week that he needs to tend to, on top of supervising his team. He shouldn’t have time to look at all of this stuff.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “You do know that as part of his team and as the person he assigned the case to, I have to forward my findings and thoughts to him? What you’re looking at is probably him clicking on what I’ve linked him.”

“Probably,” Minseok says with a shrug. “But that doesn’t justify the time stamps. He’s on his office computer almost twenty-four-seven. Unless he’s set up a proxy so he can access his work files while at home - which I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how to do - this means that Jongin has been at the office non-stop since the Kai case started.”

Jongdae frowns. “I see him come and go all the time. He’s always showered and doesn’t repeat outfits too close together. Those aren’t signs of someone camping out in their office.”

“Maybe he goes home for a little bit every night to freshen up?” Sehun suggests.

Minseok shakes his head. “Check out the times, though.” he points at the screen. “Log on at clock-in at six in the morning. He stays logged in throughout his breaks and lunches. Activities, like when the monitor is woken up by the mouse or whenever something is typed on the keyboard, are virtually non-stop. I don’t see a break for longer than forty-five minutes on any of the activity.”

“His commute on the subway takes an hour,” Sehun says, confusion in his voice.

“What about nightly? After everyone goes home,” Jongdae asks, leaning forward with a hand on the table, the other hand on the back of Minseok’s chair as he looks at the screen.

“Ummm,” Minseok types a few things, clicks around. “If we average that six p.m. is normal clock-off time, he’s there. His employee ID clocks out on the time card, but his computer stays active.”

“That’s wrong,” Sehun suddenly says. “I’ve seen him get on the subway to go home. We even rode together last week to the barbecue place by his house. I was with him the whole time, like two hours.”

“What date?” Minseok asks. Sehun relays the information and Minseok types it in. He sits back in his chair, whistling. “His stuff was active. Like he never even left the office.”

“What about screen savers?” Jongdae asks. “Is his computer just in sleep mode? The apps would all be minimized but they’d still be running in the background.”

Minseok shakes his head. “No, it’s full-blown activity, like I said. Mouse shakes and keyboard strokes.”

Sehun straightens and folds his arms across his chest. “Ok, so- what does that have to do with the Kai case? Our boss is an over-achiever, we’ve all known that since day one. That’s why he’s younger than us and can kick all our asses.”

“It doesn’t strike you as odd?” Minseok asks. He doesn’t sound puzzled, but excited. “Literally since the first report of Kai’s murders, Jongin’s activity has been wild. Before then, it was virtually static. He rarely did too much on his computer; that’s why there are desk cops and secretaries.”

“The case is personal for all of us,” Jongdae says. He doesn’t know why he sounds defensive. “There’s no way any of us would just sit by and not look into it.”

“Ok but how do you explain all of the activity? And why so much of it, every hour of every day without breaks?” Minseok sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and drumming his fingers over his biceps. “You heard Sehun. It’s not possible. Jongin can’t be in two places at once. And he definitely has to sleep some time.”

The room falls silent while they all stare at the computer. The evidence is right there. And they’re detectives, so of course they’ve talked it out and ruled out all possibilities. That’s what they do. Debunk every mystery until they find the result. The only thing… is that there is no result. Just a giant question mark as to what on Earth is going on in Jongin’s office at all hours of the day.

“Woah,” Minseok jolts them all out of their thoughts. “Woah woah woah-” he leans forward. On the screen of the laptop he’d been monitoring Jongin on, his cursor goes wild. “Who’s this?” he asks curiously.

“Is someone hacking you?” Sehun asks, frowning. “Minseok, you gotta shut it down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minseok says. He starts typing on his keyboard, an entire foreign language of tech jargon that Sehun and Jongdae will never understand flashing in tiny boxes on the screen. Just as Minseok is about to press enter to seal the deal and block out the hacker, a new window pops up.

It’s a black screen, and for a moment, they all just stare at it. Nothing happens. His computers go silent, their fans turning off. In the middle of the pop up a white mask appears, and Jongdae recognizes it as the one Kai had been wearing the night they first met. He chokes on his spit, his heart thudding, and Minseok and Sehun blink in confusion. The mask starts rotating, red eyes flashing, and Minseok starts hurriedly typing on his computer.

“No, no, no no no no no-” he says, voice turning desperate. “Don’t you dare, you motherfucker-”

One of his laptops shuts down. Sehun covers his mouth to quiet his heavy breathing, and Jongdae stares at the mask - pictures of the symbols from the crime scenes flash across the screen and Minseok is still typing away, the mask at the center of them all, and then-

“Fuck.” Minseok exhales, the pop-up gone. His other laptop starts to boot back up, the PC making some noise to signal that it’s still alive. Everyone is on edge, as Minseok leans back and rubs his face, letting out a whooshing breath.

“Hey,” Sehun leans forward again, pointing at the screen. “Jongin’s activity just went dead.”

They all stare at the screen, leaning in curiously.

When Jongdae’s phone rings in his pocket, he yelps and jumps back. Minseok and Sehun jump as well, and then they all mutter out various expletives while Jongdae pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s… Chief,” Jongin says. His heart is beating a million miles an hour.

“Why is he calling you on a Saturday night?” Sehun asks.

Minseok turns back to his computer as Jongdae answers the phone.

“Chief?” he answers, trying not to sound as freaked out as he feels.

“Jongdae,” Jongin greets, his voice sounding grave.

“Guys,” Minseok suddenly says, waving for their attention. The pop-up is back on his screen, and all of the symbols are there, digital masterpieces of their fleshy counterparts.

A seventh symbol flickers into existence.

Jongin’s voice sounds distant as Jongdae drops the phone.

“There’s been another murder.”

-

“Wu Yifan,” Jongin says, dropping a case file down onto the meeting room table. “Of Guangzhou, China. He was found dead in his apartment two days ago.”

Jongdae frowns. Of course, Jongin had called him, supposedly the only officer working on the Kai case, and Jongdae had shown up alone to meet Jongin in the conference room. Ingesting the information, Jongdae pulls the case file to him, eyes landing on the driver’s license photo of a very handsome foreigner.

“China is out of our jurisdiction by a long shot,” Jongdae says, “and two days ago might as well have been two years ago. Why are we just now getting the information?” He flips through the crime scene photos. “I don’t see a symbol carved onto his body.”

“Because it’s not on his body,” Jongin says, frowning as well. He’s standing on the other side of the table, hands in his pockets, fingers jingling his keys idly. “Forensics missed it the first time, but when Yifan’s girlfriend went to go collect her belongings from the apartment, she found it. Flip to the last page.”

Jongdae does as instructed, and he blinks. In Yifan’s kitchen, on the backsplash behind the oven, is what looks like a dragon burned onto the tile. Squinting, Jongdae brings the photo closer to his face. “It looks like it was put there with a cattle prod.” It’s singed into the tile, the edges rough and blown out. Almost like an explosion. But that doesn’t make any sort of sense.

“Preliminary cause of death is asphyxiation,” Jongin says, finally taking a seat. He folds his hands on the table while Jongdae looks at the photos, and before Jongdae can say anything, Jongin interrupts. “I don’t believe it either. The coroner is working on a toxicology report but… Look at him, Jongdae. Not a hair is out of place.”

Jongdae lets out a sigh as he looks at Yifan’s photos. There are no bruises, no signs of a struggle, no marks around his neck to signify any sort of strangling. Aside from his eyes being open and lifeless, his mouth open to let his soul depart, Yifan’s death looks… remarkably peaceful, compared to what they’ve seen here.

“So you’re telling me Kai is jumping borders?” Jongdae shakes his head. “No. This has got to be a copycat. Some fanatic that got his rocks off and wants to blame it on someone else.”

“But how did he die,” Jongin asks, and Jongdae knows he’s not asking him specifically.

“Who cares?” Jongdae closes the file and leans forward a bit in his seat so he can look at Jongin earnestly. He examines the Chief’s face, and then sighs softly. “Look. We’re all on edge, Jongin. Every last one of us. I know Guangzhou sent this file to us so we can give them some answers, but we can’t.” he looks down at the closed file, and then sits back in his seat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s Kai,” Jongin snaps.

Jongdae blinks in surprise. Jongin has never, ever gotten snappy with him before. Jongin looks agitated, his knee bouncing, fingers fidgeting atop the table. Hesitating for only a moment, Jongdae stands up and makes his way to the other side of the table, resting his hand on Jongin’s shoulder. He squeezes, and then chooses his next words carefully.

“Maybe… you should take some time off,” he suggests. “You don’t look well.”

Jongin moves his hands to bury his face in them, his elbows digging into the table. His frame is trembling and Jongdae feels for him, he really does. Both hands move to Jongin’s shoulders and Jongdae massages gently, hoping he’s not crossing any boundaries.

“Take a few days off, Jongin. Get some sleep. Eat real food. Cut the caffeine.” he says softly, and with each rub of his fingers, he feels Jongin relaxing. “Take your laptop home so you can keep supervising but just- take a break. You need it.”

Jongin leans back in his chair, tipping his head back so he can look up at Jongdae. He looks older than ever before, eyes tired, the smile lines on either side of his mouth deepening into frown lines. Jongdae hates it. What happened to the youthful, handsome lady-killer chief?

Kai.

“Thank you, Jongdae,” Jongin finally says, reaching up to gently pat Jongdae’s hands. Jongdae pulls them away, the contact almost burning. Jongin doesn’t seem to notice. “I think… I think I will take a break.” he stands up, rolling his shoulders and rotating his neck. When he turns to look at Jongdae, Jongdae sees a trace of the vibrant, dedicated man Jongin had been just six months ago. Jongin smiles, and Jongdae feels a bit of relief. “You really think things will be ok? The case…”

Jongdae shakes his head and smiles, taking a step back. All of a sudden, he feels like Jongin’s presence is closing in on him. “It’s fine. Aside from this, there hasn’t been much activity from Kai.” No murders, no stalking Jongdae in the streets. “The second we need you, I’ll call.”

The relief in Jongin’s smile is contagious. He claps Jongdae on the shoulder, and then turns to head out of the office. “I promise I’ll at least cut back on the caffeine,” he says, before he exits the room.

Left alone, Jongdae looks down at the closed case file.

“Wu Yifan,” Jongdae murmurs to himself, reaching across the table to grab the manila folder. He opens it up, pulling out the last photo. “The dragon.” His finger traces over the scorched symbol on the wall, and then he flicks the photo idly against his palm.

He’s going to look into this.

Something doesn’t seem right.

-

Jongdae has to wait until Monday before he can talk to the Guangzhou coroner to get any details. He’s sitting at his desk and when he hangs up the phone he’s left very, very confused.

“So what’s the scoop?” Sehun asks, coming around the corner to sit on the edge of Jongdae’s desk. He’s crunching on an apple and Jongdae rubs his temples idly to ignore the noise.

“Asphyxiation.”

Sehun frowns, reaching over to grab the case file. He’d looked it over earlier, but now he’s studying Yifan’s photos again. “But there’s… no marks. What did he suffocate from?”

“Smoke inhalation,” Jongdae says, leaning back in his chair. It creaks with his movement, as he stares blankly at the file in Sehun’s hand. “His lungs and throat were charred.”

Sehun’s brows scrunch up. “But- there was no fire damage anywhere else in the apartment. And no offense to the dead but this guy looks like too much of a tight wad to be a smoker.”

“Right,” Jongdae agrees, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling. “So how does a person die from smoke inhalation, when there was no fire to speak of?”

Sehun stares at the photo of the symbol. “I mean- this looks charred. Like it was burned into the tile. But that’s it.”

Jongdae reaches out to take the photo from Sehun, holding it down in his lap, chin tucked to his chest as he examines the burnt lines, the perfect symmetry. “It just doesn’t make sense. If this really was Kai, why isn’t the body mutilated? Why isn’t the symbol cut into the skin? He doesn’t seem the type to change his M.O. in the middle of a spree, that just wouldn’t make sense.”

“Does Kai make sense?” Sehun asks, a little huffy. “He’s a serial killer, dude.”

“But he’s ritualistic.” Jongdae insists, shaking the photo a bit. “Something had to have changed that made him change his pattern. Something was different about Yifan.”

“There are no connections between Yifan and the other victims,” Sehun reminds Jongdae. “Maybe that’s what’s different?”

Jongdae racks his brain. All of the previous victims had been connected to him in some way or another. But Yifan? Jongdae has never been in China, let alone met a man as striking as this. He’d remember. His profile says he’s 6’3” and that’s a height Jongdae doesn’t forget easily.

Think, think, think.

Exhaling shortly, Jongdae stands up, his chair squeakily rolling away. “I’m going to go get some air up on the roof. I’ll be back.”

Sehun just shrugs and takes the photo back, and Jongdae leaves the office area, heading to the staircase that will take him up to the roof. The sound of his shoes clacking on the metal stairs brings a little bit of clarity to his jumbled thoughts, and once he’s out in the open with the high breeze sliding over his face he feels a bit more… peaceful. Not any more at rest, he supposes, but he’ll take what he can get.

There’s a few lawn chairs scattered about for the officers that like to come up and smoke and hang out, and Jongdae takes up residence in one that hasn’t been beaten too badly by the weather. He crosses his legs and leans back, looking up at the sky. For once, he would like to forget about all of this. Well- maybe not forget about it, but just… clear a space in his mind so that he doesn’t have to think about it constantly.

He closes his eyes, sinking down into the worn chair, the sun passing through the crisp Spring air to warm his bones.

“Jongdae, Jongdae, Jongdae…”

The cajoling voice jolts Jongdae out of the impromptu nap, and he sits bolt upright immediately, glancing around to find the man he knows that voice belongs to. Sure enough, Kai is sitting in the chair next to him, looking all sorts of casual with his ankle over his knee and his fingers laced behind his head. He’s wearing the white mask and a smile and Jongdae immediately stands up, taking a few steps away.

“I’m dreaming,” Jongdae says firmly.

Kai pouts, uncrossing his legs and putting his hands on his knees, leaning forward a bit. “Now, that’s just mean. Aren’t you happy to see me?” his head tilts, and then a smirk filters over his features. “Or… do you dream of me often, Detective?”

Jongdae feels a shudder of repulsion filter through his body. “You wish.”

“Ah, I do,” Kai sighs wistfully, leaning back in the chair again. He reaches over to pat the chair Jongdae had just vacated, “Why don’t you sit down? Relax a little. You’ve been working so hard.”

“I’m dreaming,” Jongdae says again, staying still.

Kai purses his lips, and then clucks his tongue. “You’re very awake, Jongdae. I can do many things, but getting into your brain is something I’m not talented in.” his lips curl into another smirk. “That talent is reserved for my darling little deer.”

Jongdae clenches his teeth.

“Now,” Kai drums his fingers over his knees, “I’m very hurt you think that a copycat killed the dragon.” Another pout. His lips are so full, youthful. “I must say, getting to him was very difficult, but it was all worth it in the end.” A dreamy sigh. “Quite a clever way for him to die, hm?”

“How did you do it?” Jongdae finds himself asking. No, idiot, you should be turning him in! Cuffing him, tackling him, calling for backup!

“Dragons breathe fire,” Kai says casually, inspecting his nails. “Don’t you think that, at some point, they’d get burned?”

“Yifan was a person,” Jongdae bites out. “Quit playing games with me.”

“But it’s the truth-” Kai’s head tilts, and Jongdae assumes that behind the eyeless mask, he’s looking right at him. “Why would I lie to you, Detective?”

“Because you’re a sociopath,” Jongdae says lowly, taking a step forward. “I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

Sighing heavily, Kai shrugs. “If that’s how you want to see things, then I can’t change it. I’ve never lied to you, and I never will.”

Of the few times Jongdae has met Kai, he’s built a pretty decent profile of him. Right now Kai seems to be swinging between the maniacal killer and the naive boy that followed Jongdae to the corner store, and Jongdae is taking his time playing the field just to be safe - just to maybe, if he’s lucky, coerce some useful information out of Kai.

“Why wouldn’t you lie to me?” Jongdae asks. It’s been about ten minutes, and if he knows Sehun, he’ll be coming up those steps any minute to drag Jongdae back to work.

“Why did you tell your dear Chief to take a break?” Kai’s response makes Jongdae falter. Kai laughs lightly, “Could it be that you return his feelings?”

How does Kai know about that? Jongdae takes a few more steps forward, all the way until he’s standing directly in front of Kai, looming over him, eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

“It’s awfully considerate of you to tell him to pull himself together,” Kai hums. “He was rather close to the edge.”

Kai has been watching them this whole time. Kai knows about Jongdae’s private conversations with Jongin and, undoubtedly, with Minseok and Sehun as well. A lightbulb goes off in Jongdae’s head.

“You’re the one keeping Jongin’s computer active.”

Kai’s head tilts so far to the side it’s almost grotesque, the smile he gives glinting dangerously. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Kai lets out a high-pitched laugh and then suddenly stands, chest bumping against Jongdae’s. Jongdae’s hands fly to go on the defense but Kai’s strong fingers catch his wrists, and Kai holds the shorter man’s hands to his chest, leaning in so he can whisper. “Time’s almost up, Jongdae. Who am I?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae growls, fighting every instinct to pull away from the killer.

“Who do you want me to be?” Kai’s breath flows over Jongdae’s lips and something about it seems… familiar. Kai’s grip is strong despite his scrawny frame, and Jongdae is acutely aware of the gun in his shoulder holster. If he can get even just one hand free- Kai leans in, words ghosting over the shell of Jongdae’s ear. “I know who I want you to be…”

“Jongdae?”

Jongdae’s eyes open and he gasps, almost falling off of the chair. He glances wildly around him and… doesn’t see Kai. Instead, Sehun is standing at the doorway, looking very confused and concerned as he walks over to where Jongdae is trying to catch his breath.

“Hey man, you ok?” he asks.

Jongdae runs a hand over his face. He had been dreaming. Right? Ruffling his hair a bit, he nods a few times, and then stands.

“Yeah- yeah. I just… I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Sehun looks incredibly wary, but he shrugs and smiles. “That’s ok. Cat naps are normal. Healthy. But what’s also normal and healthy is lunch time, and I’m starving, so… let’s get something to eat.”

Laughing a little about how frank Sehun can be, Jongdae nods and starts walking towards the door with him. “Yeah.”

A glance over his shoulder before he shuts the door shows him that the roof top is empty. The knowledge does nothing to settle his nerves.

[ Next]