Chapter 25
Junyoung waited until Dahye had turned the corner before hurrying toward her door.
The previous near miss had shaken him, and his heart pounded loudly in his chest. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a flash of movement from the window next to Dahye’s and stopped, looking up.
The curtains moved, and an eye appeared.
It was the neighbor. Junyoung gave him a halfhearted wave before turning his attention to his pocket, pretending to fumble for his keys.
He waited a beat, and then the curtain flicked back into place. Junyoung let out a sigh of relief.
He had watched hundreds of videos on YouTube on how to pick a lock, but to his surprise, it was even easier than he anticipated. After a few attempts, the door opened with a small click. Junyoung looked over his shoulder. Seeing no sign of Dahye, he stepped inside.
Even though it was daytime, it was dark inside, the blinds drawn.
Junyoung blinked as his eyes adjusted, scanning the living room.
It was small. Empty. There was no couch or TV, or any furniture, really, except for a microwave and a fridge.
The kitchen—if you could call it that—was just a single pockmarked counter with a sink and drawers.
A cleaver was balanced on the sink’s edge, droplets of water still clinging to the blade.
The place was a dump. Apprehension gnawed at him as he remembered Dahye’s pink cubicle. He took a step forward, then stopped, looking down at his sneakers. What did one do in this kind of situation? Was he supposed to take them off or leave them on?
After some contemplation, he decided to keep his shoes on.
He made his way farther into the living room and heard a sound—like loud droplets hitting the floor from a leaky pipe.
When he opened the bathroom door, he saw that water was dripping from the grille of an air conditioning vent in the wall.
As he reached up to touch it, a gust of wind swept past him, sending chills down his back.
He glanced at the window. It was closed. Junyoung shivered.
There was nothing on the counter or in the cabinets.
The shower contained only a single bar of soap, which sat in a pool of stagnant water.
The imprint on it was no longer decipherable.
Junyoung touched it gently. His finger went right through it like it was a stick of softened butter.
He grimaced as the vent continued to drip.
Like the living room, Dahye’s bedroom was empty.
A limp air mattress sat on the floor. Blankets were piled haphazardly over it.
Her closet door was ajar, and as Junyoung approached it, his pulse began to race.
What would he find? Jang Hyukjoon’s lifeless body, sprawled on the floor?
A collection of human heads? Something worse?
His breath hitched as he opened the door. Something lay at his feet, and Junyoung, instantly thinking the worst, began to tremble. With the point of his shoe, he poked at the pile. It was soft. He blinked and peered closely, his shoulders sagging with relief. It was just her clothes.
He crouched and looked through them. Five T-shirts, three of which were varying shades of pink.
Two pairs of faded denim jeans. A red sweater, which stunk of mildew and was covered in a fine, white powder, and a pink gingham dress.
Some damp socks, the soles dark and stained.
One pale pink bra with loose elastic. He squeezed each of the cups experimentally, then held it up to his own chest. The tag had been snipped off, but if he had to guess, it was an A-cup. Maybe a double A.
He dropped the bra when he saw what was at the bottom of the pile.
It was her underwear. Her glorious panties.
He grabbed the first pair and brought it to his nose, taking a deep whiff.
It smelled like heaven. He picked up another and then another, growing dizzy from inhaling the sweet scent of her pussy.
Delicious. De-fucking-licious. He shoved one into his pocket and took one last look around her bedroom before walking out. In the living room, his eyes rested again on the knife, and he was reminded of the memories of the finger, the bloodstained clothes, and the missing chaebol son.
Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Maybe Jang Hyukjoon’s disappearance was merely a coincidence. Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Junyoung could see nothing out of the ordinary. The unit was empty, but that in itself wasn’t a crime.
Standing in the middle of her living room, Junyoung wanted very badly to feel close to Dahye. To know every part of her. He opened one of the drawers in the kitchen. It was filled with disposable chopsticks, crumpled napkins, a few dusty candles. He closed it and went to the fridge.
It was mostly bare. On the top shelf were strawberry yogurt, two beers, a carton of soymilk. On the second shelf, a small package wrapped in paper towel and clingfilm.
The sight of the empty shelves made his heart ache.
Dahye had grown noticeably thinner since moving out, and suddenly he was worried that she wasn’t taking care of herself properly.
He thought about stopping by a convenience store and leaving her with some ramyun and rice.
Bending over, he reached for the package on the second shelf.
As he unwrapped the clingfilm, a fetid smell hit him square in the face.
Junyoung’s eyes watered. He peeled away the paper towel to reveal a grayish slab of wrinkled meat.
It was cold and damp. He examined it, wondering what animal it had come from.
Then realization dawned on him. Junyoung’s grip slackened, and the meat tumbled out of its wrapping and onto the floor.
It was a severed penis.
At first, all Junyoung felt was revulsion.
Waves of nausea crashed over him as he stood rooted to the spot, staring unblinking at the floor.
But gradually, the room stopped spinning, and as he returned to his body, Junyoung threw his head back and laughed.
He laughed until his stomach hurt. This was better than the proof his mother had thrown away.
In fact, it was better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.
Because not only had Dahye killed Jang Hyukjoon, a member of one of the most wealthy and powerful families in Korea, she had also taken his manhood.
He practically owned her now. Grinning, he ran his tongue over his teeth and began to take pictures of the severed member.
When he was done, he wrapped it back up, placed it gently back in the fridge, and turned to go.
His hand had just tightened around the doorknob when he heard keys rattling on the other side.
She was back. Junyoung looked around frantically, but the room was so empty that there was no place to hide.
He dove into the bedroom, yanking the door shut just as she entered.
The floorboards creaked under his feet. Breathing hard, he threw himself into the closet and burrowed under her clothing.
He listened. It sounded like she was still at the door, slipping off her shoes.