The next day, a cold midday light barely pierced through the layered clouds, casting long, indistinct shadows on the ground. The school day had ended, and streams of students slowly spilled onto the streets of Seoul, merging with the city's noise. Among them was Ming You, but his path was not from school; he was already coming from home.
He moved with purpose and emotionlessness, like a programmed machine. His school uniform had already been replaced by practical, unremarkable camouflage: a black hoodie and khaki pants. On his shoulders were two backpacks and one sports bag. One backpack, light and worn, still held the smell of the classroom and school supplies. The bag contained neatly folded uniforms.
The second backpack, however, was more voluminous and heavy, emitting a dull, metallic clinking with each movement. Inside, arranged with pedantic precision, were tools: a roll of heavy-duty black trash bags, a wide-bladed kitchen knife and a cleaver, plastic sheeting, several rolls of duct tape and rope, scissors, a UV flashlight, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, and other chemicals whose purpose was to erase traces, not leave them.
He walked onto the parking lot, where among a row of ordinary sedans stood an inconspicuous white van with a small dent on the right fender. His gaze, empty yet focused simultaneously, slid over the clock on his phone.
"Exactly one hour has passed since the end of classes," he said to himself mentally, without intonation. "Most likely, the coach is at home."
The key clicked, the van door opened with a dull thud. Ming You tossed his bags onto the passenger seat, settled behind the wheel, and turned the ignition key. The engine rumbled with an obedient, quiet roar. He pulled onto the road, merging with the stream of cars.
"In any case, killing him now is impractical," he continued his internal monologue, maneuvering between lanes. "Today and tomorrow are for surveillance. But tomorrow night or the day after… heh-heh, you won't run from me, Chang Wo."
Twenty minutes later, he turned into a quiet district built with standard high-rise buildings. His gaze darted to the windows on the sixth floor of one building. A light was on in one of them.
"Sixth floor. There's a light on. So either he's home, or only his family is home," Ming You noted.
He found an empty spot in the shade of an old elm, parked the van, and turned off the engine. Ming You leaned back in the seat, becoming part of the car's interior, an invisible observer. The clock struck four, then six, eight… Life in the building flowed as usual: lights turned on and off in the windows, shadows flickered. The light in the target apartment went out exactly at ten.
"Chang Wo is one hundred percent home. His sleep schedule is most likely the same as most teachers," Ming You mentally noted.
He felt a slight hunger. Without haste, he took an energy bar from his pocket, carefully unwrapped it, and began eating small, measured bites. Simultaneously, with his other hand, he turned on his phone, opening a mapping application. The screen illuminated his immobile face with a cold blue glow.
"It will be much easier to search for suitable places with the van," he pondered, moving the map with his finger. "However, the most pragmatic thing is to find a location where I can park and deliver the body discreetly. No witnesses. No cameras."
He studied the outlying districts of Seoul, zooming in and out. His attention was drawn to industrial zones, abandoned construction sites, rarely visited forest parks along the banks of the Han River. After about thirty minutes of searching, his finger stopped.
"Perfect. Quiet area, no public places nearby, minimal CCTV coverage. Access roads… acceptable."
He saved the coordinates and turned his attention back to the dark entrance.
Midnight. The city grew quiet.
Ming You connected a power bank to the van for charging, and from it, his phone. Placing the device on a holder near the windshield, he activated the camera in video recording mode. The angle was adjusted so that both the entrance door of the building and the windows of the sixth floor were in the frame. He checked the recording, made sure all the van doors were locked, then pushed back the backs of two passenger seats, creating a makeshift bed. Covering himself with his own black hoodie, he closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him almost instantly — deep, dreamless, like being switched off.
Jing! Jing! Jing!
The sharp but quiet sound of the alarm tore him from the void exactly six hours later. He opened his eyes. His gaze was hazy, detached — the classic mask of a sleep-deprived person. But inside, it was different: his body and mind awoke immediately, switched on to one hundred percent, cold and collected. With a sharp movement, he silenced the alarm and stopped the recording.
On the phone screen, in the predawn twilight, he saw movement. A man of sturdy build — Chang Wo — emerged from the entrance. Next to him, a girl of about twelve with long, neatly braided light-blonde hair was scurrying along. Ming You froze, his eyes, like camera lenses, focusing on the child. In his usually impassive gaze, a barely perceptible spark flickered — not of pity, but of cold analysis.
"Is that… her?" he whispered, his brows slightly furrowing. "No. She's twelve. But very… very similar."
Chang Wo opened an orange sedan, the girl settled in the back seat. Ming You waited until the coach's car had driven a sufficient distance, turned the corner, and only then started the van. The engine responded with a quiet growl.
"So, first you take your daughter to school… Therefore, after classes, you most likely pick her up too. Quite valuable information."
He followed at a respectful distance, blending in with the morning stream of parents dropping off children. The orange car stopped at the gates of an unremarkable middle school. The girl jumped out, waved her hand to her father, and disappeared behind the gates. Chang Wo moved off, and now his route led towards Yoshido High School.
"This is the road to my school. So, your morning route ends here," Ming You concluded.
Seeing the orange sedan turn towards the familiar teacher's parking lot near the school, Ming You pressed the gas and drove past. He turned into a neighboring alley, found a secluded spot around the corner from a store, and parked.
After quickly looking around, he grabbed the bag with his school uniform. His movements were practiced and swift: the black hoodie and khaki pants were replaced by a white shirt, dark blue trousers, and a blazer. He put on a tie, tightened it with one precise motion, and now, in the rearview mirror, there was not a shadow in camouflage, but an ordinary, slightly tired high school student, Ming You. He transferred the van keys to his small school backpack, slammed the door, and strode towards the school, dissolving into the crowd of classmates.
"Now it's time to look at the recordings," he thought, climbing the stairs. "Who knows, maybe you snuck out to your mistress in the middle of the night?"
In class, he took his seat, laid out textbooks, pretending to prepare for the lesson. Then, under the pretext of looking for a pen, he leaned under the desk. His phone was already in his hands. On the screen were two windows: one large, with bright, dynamic sports anime, and the second, small, in the corner — a sped-up recording from the camera. He started playback at 2x speed, his eyes darting across the screen, catching the slightest movement in the little window.
Not even a couple of minutes had passed when he caught the sound of approaching footsteps and light commotion. Instantly, with one smooth motion, he raised his head, using his thumb to switch the screen so that it was now entirely occupied by anime. His team from the back rows — Jung Ho, Haru Lin, Lu Shen, and Hong Ren — were looking at him with smiles.
"Oh, hey, Ming!" Lu Shen broke the silence first, grinning. "What are you glued to?"
Ming You raised the phone slightly, showing the screen:
"Hi-hi. Nothing special."
"Let me guess what you're watching there…" Lu Shen squinted, pretending to try and peek. "Porn? Though… I doubt it."
Haru Lin snorted, crossing his arms.
"Porn is all that's on your mind, Lu. And I'm sure it's porn without women. Purely male."
Jung Ho leaned closer to Ming You's screen.
"Leave him alone. Oh, sports anime!" His face lit up with a smile. "I like that too!"
Lu Shen, ignoring Jung Ho, pointed a finger at Haru Lin's dyed white hair.
"Look at yourself, homo! You even dye your hair like a gay guy!"
"And you're a natural blond, so you're a born gay!"
"You…!" Lu Shen began, heated, but at that moment the sharp, piercing sound of the school bell cut through the air.
"Fuck!" burst out of Lu Shen, and as he retreated, gesturing, he bumped his back at full speed into the teacher entering the classroom.
Everyone froze. Lu Shen slowly turned around, his face pale. The teacher adjusted his glasses and looked at him coldly over the rims.
"S-sorry!" Lu Shen blurted out, standing at attention.
"Sit down," the teacher cut him off without raising his tone. "We'll start with checking homework. And judging by your energy, you're ready to answer first."
While the unfortunate Lu Shen frantically flipped through his textbook, Ming You leaned over his phone again. The lesson flowed on. His hand automatically wrote formulas in his notebook; he even correctly answered two clarifying questions from the teacher, but the corner of his vision was fixed on the small window in the corner of the screen.
Jung Ho from the back row occasionally glanced under Ming You's desk — he only saw flashing frames of basketball battles; the tiny black-and-white window was hidden from his angle. His deskmate also showed no interest.
…
The final bell rang like a release. Ming You had just finished watching the night recording. Nothing. Not a single suspicious movement. Chang Wo led the life of a model family man and teacher. He calmly closed the app, began gathering textbooks into his backpack, already mentally behind the wheel of the van.
"Wow!" Jung Ho approached him, slapping his shoulder. "Managing to watch anime without getting caught, and still solving Mr. Hyun's problems like that — you're a real genius, Ming."
Lu Shen, still dejected after the blackboard debacle, gloomily joined in.
"What? So you weren't just watching your sports anime during breaks?"
"Why are you so surprised?" Haru Lin smirked. "I'm sure when you watch porn, you're just as multitasking: keeping track of the action and listening for the door."
"Screw you!" Lu Shen muttered, but without malice.
Jung Ho looked questioningly at the receding figure of Ming You.
"Hey, Ming, training outside as usual? Maybe we can join you? Go for a run?"
Ming You was already standing in the aisle between desks. He gently but unambiguously shook his head, a light, tired smile appearing on his face — the perfect mask.
"Don't bother, I want to train alone a bit. I hope that's not a problem?"
There was nothing in his tone but polite firmness. Jung Ho immediately backed off.
"No, of course not! Sure, it's fine. Good luck!"
Ming You nodded silently and left the classroom with a fast but not running pace. He crossed the schoolyard, went out the gates, and, without looking back, headed towards his alley.
The van stood untouched. The keys clicked, the door opened. He shed his school backpack, took the bag from under the seat, and within seconds transformed back into the shadow in the black hoodie and khaki pants. The school uniform was neatly packed and sent to the far corner.
He started the van and slowly, without attracting attention, drove onto the road, heading towards the teacher's parking lot near the building next to the school. Taking up a position about fifty meters away, he turned off the engine again and began to wait.
An hour passed. An hour and a half. Teachers gradually dispersed. And finally, Chang Wo emerged from the building. He was humming something cheerfully, jingling his keys.
A cold, predatory smirk touched Ming You's lips. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"Even though the camera recording gave me nothing, it doesn't mean you, Chang Wo, will get away from me so easily," he whispered, and for the first time all day, genuine, unfeigned emotions sounded in his voice — icy, concentrated anticipation.
He watched as the coach got into his orange car, started it, and pulled away. Ming You waited three seconds, then smoothly pulled out after him, dissolving into the evening stream of cars. His eyes, narrowed, were fixed on the orange spot ahead.
"Heh-heh," a quiet, soundless chuckle escaped his lips. "Today is the perfect moment."