"A BODY WAS FOUND EARLY THIS MORNING AT HANEUL SKY PARK. DIFFERENT SIZE CROP CIRCLES WERE CUT AROUND THE VICTIM, AND THE MISSING BODY PART IS THE PINKY FINGER. THE POLICE HAVE NO SUSPECTS FOR THE MOMENT.”

Choi Seung Woo turned off the TV, annoyed by the fairy dust information given to camouflage the truth. Seung Woo did not need to hear or see more to know the culprit. Stein was back to burn all on his passage.

A part of Seung Woo prayed the killer would never return, hoping the last tribute of life he took quenched his thirst for blood. The other side of the inspector wanted Stein to attack again so he could hunt and kill him.

The serial killer granted Seung Woo’s wish with his comeback, “I will kill you,” Seung Woo murmured as he combed his hair in front of his bathroom mirror while ignoring his ringing phone. Seung Woo went to choose his clothes; gray suit and blue shirt dressed the man could easily be mistaken for a lawyer.

The phone’s persistent ringing finally got on Seung Woo’s nerves; he picked up.

“Ya, eodiniya?” [where are you? Informal]

Seung Woo switched the phone’s position as he tried to reply while doing his tie, “I’m on my way.”

“Bet you took a shower.”

Seung Woo smiled, “you know I can’t concentrate if I don’t wash a minimum every 48 hours.”

A neat freak, Seung Woo didn’t see himself spend a week without a proper bath. Where most of his colleagues came to work in a more relaxed attire ready for a showdown with criminals, he always came in a suit.

“Ya imma, why did you become a cop? You know it’s rough on the hygiene.”

Why?

Because of her, Seung Woo wanted to reply but couldn’t.

Inspector Choi did not want his superiors to strike him out of this investigation; he had to be part of it to catch the man who granted him his vocation. Yes, Seung Woo owed the murderer who pushed him to join the police.

“Why do you want to become an inspector?” The academy instructor had asked.

“I have someone to catch,” Seung Woo replied.

Obsessed with Stein, Seung Woo’s blood boiled every time he heard or saw the killer’s name on a paper.

“Palri wa.” [Hurry here!]

“Okay, got you, I’m hurrying.”

Seung Woo hung up, threw one last look in every room of his apartment, checking everything was in place, and left.

The police siren found a new function, convenient when one didn’t want to work late—Seung Woo past other cars, which made way for what they thought was an emergency. With the murders, police sirens were as trendy as Kpop songs.

7 AM, the sun stood high in the sky, yet Seoul was dark and sinister. Fatigue, stress, and now fear weighed on every face.

It wasn’t rare to see parts of Seoul deserted by those unable to cope with the murders. For not only did Stein contribute to the capital’s fame in the most macabre of ways, but it also seemed to allure every psychopath of Korea. Thirty years of terror where Stein’s son reigned and inspired.

The cycle of death had to stop.

Ten minutes and an identity check later, Seung Woo stepped inside Yongsan Police Station.

“Annyeonghaseyo, inspector Choi.”

Seung Woo nodded at the young lieutenant who always looked at him with admiration for an unknown reason. He glanced at his wristwatch and hurried climbing the steps two by two; he hated being late.

The creak of the door didn’t make heads turn; all eyes focused on the bodies’ clichés. Stein’s method hadn’t changed, no traces or fingerprints. What amazed the police was the lack of blood on the crime scenes, if not to say zero.

“As you can see, Stein has become fond of brain surgeries.”

The ritual was the most prominent mystery behind Stein’s murders; the killer proceeded in brain surgery on victims who didn’t suffer from a cerebral pathology.

It was new; in the ’80s, his thing was to amputate, now he rummaged in people’s head. The killer’s signature forehead cut forecasted the method, which finally applied.

This method had all the surgeons of the country under high surveillance. Seoul’s police knew the man they looked for a well-educated man, a compliment for the serial killer.

Women were set aside, not that the police underestimated women, but as far as serial killers went, women were known to be motivated by money. They awaited financial gain. Women killed to touch insurance money or for other embezzlement and thefts.

Here no gain could be noted.

All societies have sociopaths and psychopaths living healthy civilian lives. Not all embrace the dark force and commit murders or become serial killers.

Stein was amongst the population somewhere in Seoul, living like an ordinary mortal.

Stein was one of the 11 million people who inhabited Seoul. The statistics brought the number down, but there was also the copycats, and they were legions, incarnating a nightmare for the city’s police.

The police only possessed 31 police stations and 24 736 men and women to secure the city.

Stein Son changed the capital’s crime statistics. Gangnam, Songpa, and Yeongdeungpo were no longer sort out areas for crime.

Yongsan, Seoul station, Hongik were his new hangouts in this third take of murders. With this, Stein swept the whole of Seoul with coffins. No tourist would believe the city once held one of the lowest crime rates in the world.

The superintendent placed his hands on the standing tablet in front of him, “Listen, at this point, all suggestions are good, but it mustn’t be costly.”

How shameful thought Seung Woo, the police wanted to catch a serial killer without putting in the means. Seung Woo fought off the urge to record and send it to Seoul’s newspapers.

At the same time, it wasn’t the superintendent’s fault, deserted by tourists; the capital lost a lot of its fonds. Most cops worked unpaid overtime, and a lot didn’t even come to work, leaving areas without protection and neighborhoods fending for themselves.

This defection was where Stein took the country, making them not only victims of his bloody murders but economic hostages.

The superintendent’s eye swept the room, “any questions? Okay, you may dismiss.”