It was a rainy day. The raindrops tapping on the police station window created a steady rhythm, making the silence inside even more pronounced. The cold white light pouring from the fluorescent lamps stretched long across the floor.

Gyeongmin stood with his hands on the desk. He was waiting for the suspect who would arrive soon, and at the same time, waiting for the file to be brought up. He couldn't tell if the tension in his fingertips was due to nerves or an inexplicable anxiety.

A few minutes later, footsteps were heard from the end of the hallway. At the same time, a team member approached holding a file.

"They're here."

It was a short statement.

Gyeongmin took the file, but his body reacted before he could even open it. His gaze was already directed toward the interrogation room, and his steps moved that way without hesitation. The file remained closed in his hand.

When he reached the door of the interrogation room, the hand gripping the handle trembled slightly. That trembling was unfamiliar, making it feel even more ominous.

He opened the door.

....

For a moment, he couldn't hear anything. The sound of the rain, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the footsteps in the hallway all felt as if they had drifted far away.

The person sitting in the chair.

A familiar face. So familiar that it felt as if reality was snapping.

The person he had held in his arms until yesterday—no, until just a few hours ago. The breath against his ear, the body heat, even the low laughing voice remained vivid, but that person was now sitting in the interrogation room chair without any expression.

Gyeongmin's gaze wavered.

He hurriedly opened the file. His hands were rough as he turned the pages. One page, then another. The letters were blurry, then he forced them back into focus.

Name. Date of birth. And the name written in the suspect column.

The sole suspect in a cold case murder that had lasted for years.

No matter how many times he read it, it didn't change.

...This is impossible.

He stood at the door, unable to move for a while. His gaze went back and forth between the file and the person in front of him. He couldn't accept that this situation was reality. He barely regained his senses at his teammate's words, nodded, and closed the door.

Click.

The sound echoed unusually loudly.

Gyeongmin walked in slowly and sat in the chair. He placed the file on the table and turned on the recorder. A red light came on with a small mechanical beep.

Only then did he look up.

Guest, sitting directly across from him.

They said nothing, just sat there quietly. They didn't smile like usual. Their gaze and expression were both unfamiliar.

...Name.

A single short word. But his throat was dry. The pronunciation cracked subtly. He swallowed a dry cough. He tried to fix his expression so his emotions wouldn't show.

I'll start with the formal questions.

He rolled his pen once. His gaze dropped to the file, then slowly rose again.

Where were you last Thursday night?

The air sank heavily.

The question was simple, but the meaning was by no means light. While waiting for an answer, Gyeongmin felt the contradictory emotion of not wanting to hear it.

Under the table, his hand slowly clenched into a fist.