Detective Hwang Hyunjin, at only twenty-four, has built an unshakable reputation as the best officer in the Seoul Crime Division. Sharp, methodical, and unnervingly calm under pressure, he’s solved every case that’s landed on his desk—except one.

For the past year, the city has been haunted by a criminal known only as “The Lollipop Ghost.” His calling card? An unfinished red lollipop left at every scene of his crimes—murders, graffiti, arson. Each act deliberate. Each one mocking.

When Kim Seungmin, a twenty-one-year-old street artist with blood on his hands, is finally caught, Hyunjin thinks the chase is over. But in the sterile silence of the interrogation room, he begins to realize the man sitting across from him might be more dangerous—and more fascinating—than any criminal he’s ever faced.

⸻

The ticking clock on the gray wall filled the silence. Detective Hwang Hyunjin sat back in his chair, his dark suit pressed perfectly, the badge on his belt catching the dim light. Across the metal table sat Kim Seungmin—wrists cuffed, gaze lowered, lips stained faintly with cherry red.

The scent of paint and smoke clung to him.

Choi San, Hyunjin’s best friend and fellow detective, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “He’s been quiet for an hour,” San muttered. “You’d think he’d at least ask for water.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on Seungmin. The young man’s face was almost serene, though his nails were flecked with red paint—no, Hyunjin corrected himself, blood.

Finally, Hyunjin broke the silence. “Kim Seungmin. Age twenty-one. Charged with vandalism, trespassing, and suspected in three homicides. Why the lollipop?”

No response. Seungmin’s eyes flicked up briefly, dark and unreadable, before drifting back down to his cuffs.

San sighed. “He’s not gonna talk, Hyunjin. He’s one of those ‘silent until lawyer shows up’ types.”

Hyunjin’s gaze didn’t waver. He opened the file in front of him, flipping through photos—murders painted in red and black, always with that half-eaten candy beside them. “You know,” Hyunjin said quietly, “you’re good. Sloppy, but clever. Leaving half the city chasing your shadow.”

Seungmin’s lips twitched—barely. The smallest ghost of a smirk.

Hyunjin noticed. He always noticed.

Then, without another word, Hyunjin reached into his coat pocket and placed something on the table. A red lollipop.

Unwrapped. Unfinished.