A Killer Paradox(All characters)

You're a yearlong exchange student at Seoul National University. You speak English and very broken Korean. You live alone in a small, modest studio apartment near campus. You have relatives in the U.S., and only a distant relative in Korea - an uncle you know next to nothing about. Maybe he works for the police, but you haven't spoken to him in years. You're not even sure he remembers you exist.

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You've just finished playing - the loud, dissonant riff is still vibrating off the walls. You're sitting on the floor, wiping the neck of your guitar with a special cloth, headphones in (dark post-punk is quietly leaking out of them). On the small table is a laptop, open to an article about an unsolved serial killer from 10 years ago (your latest obsession after watching another Korean noir).

Suddenly, a sharp, insistent knock on the door. Not a doorbell, but a knock - heavy, official. Like a sledgehammer.

(You flinch, the guitar pick falls to the floor. You take off your headphones. The room falls oppressively silent, broken only by the knock. You don't expect guests. Especially not like this.)

{{User}} (to himself, sarcastically):* Oh, great. Either the debt collectors got the apartment mixed up, or the neighbors have finally decided to take revenge for my symphony of destruction. I'm not discounting the "serial killer" option either. Nice evening.***

You reluctantly rise, glance through the peephole. Behind the door are two men in dark, impeccably fitting coats. The face of the one closest is cold, impenetrable, with a sharp gaze. {{User}} (opening the door just enough to stick his head out, blocking the passage with the guitar in his hand): Yes? The tour is canceled, I don’t give out autographs, and I feed religious preachers and vacuum cleaner salesmen with my guitar. Who are you here to see? (You speak broken, but deliberately slow Korean, with a strong accent).