KTC | Chapter 61

Not long after the bodies of two men were discovered in a rural village’s farm shack, a third victim was found in a nearby wooded hill. That was when the police shifted their previously classified investigation to a public one. A metropolitan investigation unit and criminal psychologists were brought in, and news bulletins constantly called for witnesses.

But unlike most serial killings, which stir up collective fear and anger, public opinion toward these murders was very different. That’s because the victims—all “selected”—seemed, on the surface, to be the kind of people one might easily define as social scum.

Online communities were filled with heated debates, and video platforms were swamped with clickbait thumbnails chasing views. Truth and lies became a tangled mess in the tidal wave of information drowning the public.

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— Honestly, what’s the big fuss over some assholes getting offed? Stop wasting investigators on this and use them to go after real estate scammers.
└ Fr. Agreed. Real criminals are ruining our lives.
└ Preach.

— The first one was a sex offender, and the next had six priors? That’s justice served, if you ask me.
└ 100% agree
└ I mean seriously, SIX sexual assault convictions and they let him walk free? The judicial system should apologize to the nation.

— I sorta knew the third guy. He lived near me. Last time he got arrested, it wasn’t even for assault—it was for digital sex crimes.
└ Wow, what a piece of work
└ So disgusting. Glad he’s dead.

— You let a guy who should’ve rotted in prison back into society, and this is what you get: a righteous killer.

— But wait, that other guy who died with the 6-time offender—Moon-something—was he a criminal too? No info on him.
└ I don’t think he had priors.
└ One article said he was arrested before but later acquitted.
└└ So he might not be innocent either.
└└└ Yeah, I got that vibe too.

— Honestly, I hope they never catch the killer. Let sex offenders spend every night shaking in fear.

— Wow, this thread’s full of psychos. You think serial killing is a joke? And now we’re cheering on a murderer?
└ You scared of walking alone at night? 😭
└ Are you a guy, by chance? ^^
└└ LOL, totally.

＊＊＊

The woman stared at her monitor with dark, sunken eyes. Sure, there were always a few people moralizing that murder could never be justified, but plenty of others were cheering her on. That alone made her feel like what she’d done wasn’t wrong.

“I’m the judge. Unnie is my proxy.”

Just like the evil spirit had whispered to her once, giving death to scum who didn’t even deserve the air they breathed wasn’t a crime. Thanks to her righteous decision, the pain of those dehumanized by these bastards had been relieved, and future victims had been saved.

She clung to her computer all day like it was a lifeline. Even though she believed what she did was justice, she needed the constant reinforcement to stave off the guilt and fear that came from having killed someone with her own hands.

Her eyes were bloodshot from obsessive searching, and before she knew it, the day had passed. Having eaten nothing all day, she opened a food delivery app and ordered dinner. Takeout containers were piling up on her desk, starting to stink and draw bugs, but she had no energy or desire to clean.

It had been about a year since she quit her job and shut herself in. It all started the night of a company dinner when she got drunk and, on her way home, ran into a stranger. That man had destroyed her. He raped her, recorded it, and then threatened to release the video if she ever reported him.

She didn’t need anyone to tell her—she knew that the moment even a single second of that footage made it online, her life would shatter. So she never reported him.

“You did the right thing.”

She muttered obsessively to herself. That was when the doorbell rang.

It had only been five minutes since she placed the order, and she had a note on her door that said: “For deliveries and packages, please ring the bell and leave it.”

A chill ran down her spine so sharply it was like an ice spear had stabbed her whole body. A dreadful premonition pierced through her mind. The evil spirit, always lurking, flicked its tongue by her ear as if it had been waiting.

“Are you scared?”

The bell rang again, a few seconds apart. She’d known something like this might happen. Even if the evil spirit was helping her, in today’s world there were eyes everywhere—CCTVs, black boxes. It wasn’t possible to erase her traces forever.

Eventually, the truth would be exposed. She wasn’t afraid. Her revenge was complete. Even if she rotted in prison, she had no regrets.

“Disappointed. I thought unnie was braver than this.”

That biting voice didn’t care about her safety. No feelings were hurt. They were bound purely by mutual need.

Steeling herself, the woman stood up and made her way through the garbage-strewn room to the door. She took a deep breath, locked the deadbolt, and opened the door slightly. A short-haired female police officer quickly revealed her face through the narrow gap.

“Good evening, ma’am.”

The officer held up her badge. Her partner, a male officer, showed his as well. Both badges clearly displayed: Metropolitan Investigation Unit.

“What’s this about?”

Instead of answering directly, they asked her name. When she replied, “Yes, that’s me,” they asked if they could come inside to talk. She refused flatly.

“No.”

The female officer glanced awkwardly at her partner and lowered her voice.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but… a man named Moon Junyoung was recently found dead.”

She placed deliberate emphasis on the words “found dead,” knowing just hearing that name might trigger overwhelming memories. She wanted to get it out first, to say there’s no one left who can hurt you anymore.

“We were examining Mr. Moon’s laptop and found, uh… a video of you. And a copy of your ID.”

The woman bit her lip.

Fuck. He really kept it. Disgusting. That bastard. That fucking bastard. He deserved to die.

A tsunami of fury surged up, sweeping away the leftover guilt and fear that had been festering deep in her chest.

“We’ve confirmed the footage was never uploaded anywhere. There’s no chance it leaked—”

“I have nothing to say.”

The officer tried to reassure her, but the woman cut her off and shut the door with a hard expression. The female officer called out, “Ah, ma’am!” in surprise, but she didn’t hesitate.

It could pass as a typical reaction of a traumatized victim. The woman pressed her ear against the door to listen closely.

“No luck again.”

“What can you do. We just have to be patient. If it were me, I wouldn’t say a word unless you came with a warrant.”

At least they weren’t inconsiderate idiots. They didn’t knock loudly or call out her name to draw the neighbors’ attention.

After confirming the sound of the officers going down the stairs, she returned to her room. A notification buzzed on her phone. The female officer had sent a photo of her business card.

This is my card, ma’am. If you ever want to talk about the case—or even something unrelated—please don’t hesitate to contact me.

Their tone said it all—they hadn’t found any evidence. Not surprising. Even if they had, it wouldn’t matter much. The timing was all that mattered. Her end had already been decided.

The righteous executioner who took out the filth that dragged countless women into hell would finish her mission by becoming a martyr behind bars. She could already see the future: media and public endlessly debating whether her crimes were justified.

“There is no God. And if there is, He takes no sides. Which means, in the end… He sides with men.”

Lying amid trash, the woman stared blankly, whispering to no one. A faint beam of light sneaking through the blackout curtains dimly illuminated the crucifix hanging on the wall. Half of it had broken off, and it was hanging backward—the image of a savior forced to shoulder her fury when she was at her weakest.

“I’ll hang on that useless cross instead of Him.”

When innocent women were tormented and slowly killed under invisible stones of judgment, had the world ever been this loud?

Only three garbage men had died—and the uproar was this massive. It was undeniable proof that a woman’s life was worth far less than a man’s.

“If it means this shitty world changes even just a little… then I’ll gladly be the sacrifice.”