SPECTER: Night of mist

In the dead of night, the alley—its red mist now cleared—was wrapped in an eerie stillness. Under the faint glow of a streetlamp, the narrow lane lay hushed and empty. The only light came from the sluggish spin of a police cruiser's blue siren, casting swirling shadows on the crumbling walls. Even that glow flickered precariously, as if on the verge of being swallowed by the darkness.

Detective Jung Hae-jun exhaled slowly, gathering himself as he finished combing over the now-concluded crime scene. Now I'm the only one left. He murmured the thought under his breath as he cast a final look around.

At that moment, something caught his eye—a faint glint among the scattered shards of broken glass in a corner of the alley. Hae-jun frowned and stepped closer, shining his flashlight on the spot. There, half-hidden in debris, lay a small pendant attached to a black cord. He crouched and, with his gloved hand, carefully picked it up.

In his palm, the pendant gleamed with a dull metallic luster, carrying a surprising weight. Under the weak moonlight, he could see a star-shaped emblem engraved on its surface. "What… is this?" he whispered, turning the object over in his hand.

Just then, a faint bzzz sounded—and the pendant suddenly grew searing hot. "Ugh!" Hae-jun yelped, flinching in pain. He instinctively tried to fling it away, but before he could let go, a sharp, burning pain lanced through his gloved palm, as if the metal were biting into his flesh. The heat was unmistakable even through the leather, and with a curse he finally jerked his hand back.

Clink— The pendant hit the ground with a tiny metallic clang that echoed through the quiet alley.

Hae-jun held his breath, cradling his hand. He tore off the glove and found a faint red mark singed into his palm. A chill of dread crept up his arm, as if some curse had wormed its way under his skin. I just got burned by a pendant…? he thought, scowling in disbelief. Without hesitating, he used the edge of his jacket to scoop up the still-warm pendant and slipped it into an evidence bag.

 * * *

In the pre-dawn hours, a dim light glowed in the Major Crimes Unit office at Gangbuk Police Station. Among the rows of dark, empty desks, Detective Jung Hae-jun sat alone at his post. On the desk before him lay the pendant, which he was studying intently under the pale pool of his desk lamp. The star-marked pendant cast an eerie shadow across the clutter of case files strewn about.

Hae-jun absently rubbed the red burn on his right palm, recalling the strange heat that had flared to life in the alley. The faint mark still prickled with pain. "A star shape…" he murmured to himself. Leaning in, he brought a magnifying glass over the pendant to inspect it more closely. Each of the star's five points was etched with tiny, intricate symbols he didn't recognize, and at the center was a small slit — almost like a keyhole.

It looks almost like a keyhole, he mused.

Carefully, Hae-jun tilted the pendant, trying to peer into the narrow opening. In that instant, the world lurched. His vision swam dizzily as a wave of vertigo crashed over him and the overhead lights flickered. "Wh-what…?" he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and then snapping them open. He struggled to steady himself, but when he looked up again, the office around him had already transformed.

The room was plunged into deep shadow, and from the floor a red fog began to slither forth, thick and alive, coiling around his legs. The familiar desks and chairs of the office were gone, swallowed by swirling crimson mist. The air reeked of blood and decay, heavy with clammy dampness.

"Another hallucination?!" Hae-jun growled, teeth clenched. He shot up from his chair, heart hammering in his chest. His hand trembled before he even realized it, but he still managed to yank his service pistol from its holster at his waist. There was no telling what might leap out at him—or from where.

Just then, a voice drawled from behind him, casual and familiar: "Well now, is that how ya greet me after all this time? Goin' straight for your gun? You plannin' to shoot me or what?"

Hae-jun froze. He knew that voice—sly and easygoing, colored by a thick regional accent. Keeping his gun leveled, he turned slowly toward the source.

Through the murk of red fog, a figure emerged: a scruffy middle-aged man in a threadbare jumper, his shaggy ash-gray beard covering half his face. His bleary eyes and sly grin made him look for all the world like a vagrant haunting the streets.

"Fog…," Hae-jun breathed, the name escaping in a hushed whisper. At the sight of the man, the tension in Hae-jun's body drained away in an instant; his arms went slack and the muzzle of his gun dipped toward the floor.

Fog gave a crooked grin. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his ragged jacket, he sauntered closer to Hae-jun's desk, red mist curling at his feet with each step. His eyes were half-lidded and amused as usual. "Well now, Detective," he chuckled, "ya make a fella feel real unwelcome. I ain't fixin' to harm ya, not one bit, so quit bein' so on edge."

Hae-jun's breath came quick and shallow as he warily eyed the phantom mist swirling around them. Fog, however, seemed unbothered by the detective's alarm. His gaze drifted over the desk until it landed on the star-marked pendant. Fog gave a little sniff of a laugh and nodded toward the trinket. "Well, would ya look at that—seems you picked up one heck of a strange little thing, eh?"

Hae-jun instantly snatched the pendant off the desk and shoved it into his jacket's inner pocket. His eyes flashed. "So," he asked coldly, "this was your doing, was it?" He fixed Fog with a hard glare.

Fog raised both hands innocently, shaking his head. "Now, now, don't go gettin' the wrong idea," he replied. "I ain't involved in whatever nasty business you're imaginin'." He gave a light shrug and a wry chuckle, then slowly turned away. By now, tendrils of the crimson fog were pooling more thickly at Fog's feet, twisting around his ankles.

"But," Fog added, and his tone suddenly dropped low. The drawl of his dialect took on a grave, almost menacing weight, and the playful gleam vanished from his bleary eyes, replaced by something deadly serious. "That star symbol you found… turns out it's a key."

"What?" Hae-jun blurted, taken aback. "Are you saying it's a key…?" He struggled to grasp the implication. Fog's only response was a faint curl at the corner of his mouth.

"That's right," Fog continued softly. "The star mark is a key—the key to everything you're tryin' to figure out."

There was a ghost of a smile on Fog's lips, but the words sent an icy prickle down Hae-jun's spine. Fog's eyes held not a hint of their usual mischief; instead, they burned with an uncanny sincerity.

Hae-jun stepped forward, heart pounding. "Explain what you mean," he demanded urgently. "Fog, who exactly—"

Fog cut him off, his voice a cold rasp. Each word fell with heavy finality in his thick accent: "The one closest to you will be sacrificed."

"Wh-what…?" Hae-jun's blood ran cold. His heart plummeted as Fog's pronouncement hung in the air. 'The one closest to me'—who could that possibly mean? Before he could utter another word, Fog bared his teeth in a grin. There was no hint of jest in that smile now.

"Fog, wait!" Hae-jun shouted, jolted by the chilling words. He lunged forward, arm outstretched, but his hand grasped only empty air. The tattered edge of Fog's old jacket slipped into the red mist as his figure quietly disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, the office was silent and still once more, as if Fog had never been there at all. The crimson haze was gone. Only the solitary glow of the desk lamp remained, illuminating Hae-jun and the quiet, empty room.

Hae-jun slowly lowered his outstretched hand, staring blankly at the space where Fog had stood. His fist was clenched so tightly that it shook, and his heart was pounding like a drum in his chest. "The one closest to you will be sacrificed…." Fog's ominous warning echoed in his mind. Hae-jun shook his head briskly, trying to dispel the dread that clung to him. The red mist, the hallucination—everything had disappeared. The office around him was back to normal, lit only by the lonely pool of light from his lamp.

 * * *

Morning came, and the Major Crimes Unit office sprang back to life with its usual bustle. Detective Jung Hae-jun sat at his desk, eyes dark-circled and weary. He hadn't slept a wink. Despite the clatter of phones and voices around him, his mind was elsewhere—turning again and again over the ominous words Fog had left him with the night before. "The one closest to you will be sacrificed." The phrase would not let him go.

He stared vacantly down at the chaos of case files and crime scene photos scattered across his desk. They were reports of every victim who had vanished or collapsed amid the red fog incidents. Fog's warning kept replaying in his head. The one closest… He chewed over the possible meaning. Could it mean one of his colleagues? Family? Or…?

Just then, a panicked shout came from the hallway outside the office. "Detective Jung! Come here, quick!"

It was Detective Yun Tae-sik's voice—urgent and trembling.

Startled, Hae-jun sprang up and bolted out to the corridor. The early morning sun was slanting in through the hallway windows, washing the corridor in pale light. And there, in the middle of the hall, Detective Park Jae-min had collapsed to the floor on his knees. He was clutching his head with both hands, his face twisted in agony.

Beside him, Yun Tae-sik hovered frantically, holding Park by the shoulder and utterly at a loss. "Detective Park! Stay with us—what's wrong?!" Yun pleaded, his voice high and cracking.

Hae-jun skidded to Park's side, heart in his throat. "Jae-min! What's the matter?!" he asked urgently, dropping to one knee. He grabbed Park Jae-min by the shoulders.

Park's eyes were open, but unfocused and wild. His pupils jittered, unable to fix on anything. Sweat beaded on his brow and streamed down his temples. "D-Detective…" he gasped in a faint, strangled voice, blinking as if trying to see Hae-jun through some invisible haze. He swayed where he sat.

"Hang on, Jae-min, stay with me," Hae-jun urged, gripping his junior's shoulder tighter. Park's lips were quivering; he was trying to speak.

"S-sound… it's… wrong…" Park mumbled hoarsely. "Someone's… laughing… and the fog…" His voice trailed off into an unintelligible whisper. As Hae-jun watched in horror, Park's eyes rolled back in his head, the whites showing, even though his eyelids remained half-open. In the same moment, Park's body went completely limp in Hae-jun's arms.

 *

Everything is blurry.

Everything is warping.

The solid hallway walls ripple as if they're melting. I stagger, reaching out to brace myself, but my hand swipes through empty air. Something's wrong—terribly wrong.

My heart hammers against my ribs. A strange laugh echoes in my ears, a horrible lilting cackle that seems to come from everywhere at once. Who… who is laughing? Where is it coming from?

"Heh… heh… heh… Ha ha ha…!" The eerie laughter swells, reverberating inside my skull. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it's no use—red light is seething behind my lids. Or am I not even closing them? Are my eyes open? I can't see. I can't see.

The stench of blood and rot floods my nose, so thick I could choke.

No… no, not again… am I… hallucinating again?

A wave of pure terror rises up, clamping around my throat. I try to scream—Help me!—but only a raw, rasping wheeze escapes my lips.

Something is here with me.

In the fog… I see red eyes, glaring at me from within that crimson haze.

Suddenly, an icy hand brushes the back of my neck.

"Uaagh!" I shriek, lurching forward, but my legs buckle and I collapse to the ground. Through my hazy vision, I see a shadow looming, coming closer, closer.

No… please… don't come any closer!

My eyes burn. Searing liquid spills down my cheeks—I rub my eyes and my palms come away smeared with warm, wet red. Blood. Am I… bleeding from my eyes?

"Hel—…!" I try to cry out one last time, but before the word can leave my tongue, every sensation suddenly cuts out.

My consciousness sinks into deep, endless darkness.

 *

"Park Jae-min! Park Jae-min!!" Jung Hae-jun's desperate shout rang down the hallway.

Park's eyes were rolled back in his head, and he lay unresponsive and deathly still. Thick streams of blood were trickling from his nose and from the corners of his eyes, painting red streaks down his cheeks.

Swallowing his own rising panic, Hae-jun yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against Park's bleeding eyes. "Call 119! Get an ambulance, now!" he barked over his shoulder.

Yun Tae-sik, hands shaking, fumbled out his phone and dialed emergency services. All around, the other detectives had frozen in shock, unsure how to help as the scene unfolded.

Hae-jun cradled Park's upper body against him, trying to keep his colleague's airway clear and his head upright. "Jae-min, hang in there! It's me—Hae-jun. Stay with me, you hear?" he pleaded, his voice cracking. He never imagined the day he'd see his sturdy, cheerful junior like this, collapsing helplessly in his arms.

Park's face was drained of color, lips tinged blue. Though his chest still rose and fell in faint breaths, he showed no sign of regaining consciousness.

As Hae-jun held him, Fog's terrible warning roared through his mind on an endless loop: "The one closest to you will be sacrificed." The words were a knife twisting in his gut. Could Fog have meant Park Jae-min all along?

Gritting his teeth, Hae-jun fought down a surge of guilt and fear. I won't let this happen, he vowed to himself, heart thundering with determination. No matter what it takes—I'm going to stop it.