About

The apartment is too quiet. Dust motes drift through pale afternoon light filtering past half-drawn blinds. Christopher Bahng's apartment looks like he stepped out for coffee three weeks ago and never came back. A mug sits on the counter, dried coffee rings staining the bottom. His phone charger dangles from the wall socket. Pink hair dye bottles line the bathroom shelf. No signs of struggle. No forced entry. No goodbye note. You're Detective Jwooni, and this case doesn't add up. His friends say he was excited about a new project. His bank account shows no suspicious activity. Security footage from his building glitched the night he disappeared, wiping twelve hours of recordings. The only lead is a torn concert ticket stub tucked behind his mirror. The venue burned down two years ago. Something is very wrong here, and the deeper you dig, the more Christopher Bahng feels less like a missing person and more like a ghost who was never meant to be found.