Chapter 1
The polished oak floorboards of Apartment 4B carried a faint scent of lemon wax and old dust. Detective Jin-woo pressed his chest tightly against the cold wood, his white-gloved fingers gripping the edge of the low teak sideboard. Beside him, Detective Lin adjusted her posture, her dark coat rustling softly against the grain. They were hunting ghosts in broad daylight, though the ghost in question currently wore a pristine white skirt suit and clicked her heels rhythmically across the pristine living room tiles.
Across the bright, minimalist space, Madame Chen stood before a towering, floor-to-ceiling white wardrobe. Her hair was pulled back into an immaculate bun, defying gravity and disorder alike. She slid the mirrored door open with mechanical precision, revealing rows of garments hung at exact intervals, every hanger facing the exact same direction. Jin-woo squinted into the gloomy two-inch gap beneath the sideboard, his breath pluming slightly in the air-conditioned chill. A single white cotton thread, no longer than a fingernail, lay wedged against the back wall, tied in a microscopic knot.
“She’s afraid property management touched her other stuff,” Jin-woo muttered, his voice barely rising above the hum of the refrigerator. His jaw muscles tightened beneath his stubble.
Lin didn’t blink. Her eyes remained locked on the shadow beneath the furniture, tracking the tiny fibers that shouldn't have been there. She shifted slightly, careful not to let her pristine white gloves brush the floor and pick up stray contaminants. She leaned in closer to Jin-woo, her breath warm against his ear.
“She doesn't trust anyone,” Lin whispered, her guarded expression hardening into something sharper. “Not even an ant.”
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They were not here for a routine burglary or a missing heirloom. Apartment 4B sat on the fourteenth floor of a luxury high-rise overlooking a grey, indifferent harbor. Madame Chen had called the precinct three times that morning, reporting that the universe had shifted by a fraction of a millimeter. Nothing was stolen. Everything was accounted for. Yet, her meticulous universe was fracturing from the inside.
Lin pushed herself up, her joints popping quietly. She dusted her knees, though they were clean, and walked toward the bedroom where Madame Chen was now examining the hem of a silk blouse with agonizing scrutiny. Jin-woo followed, rolling his shoulders to ease the cramp in his spine. The case was absurd on the surface, but beneath the polished surface of the building, something rotten was leaking through the pipes.
