As I speed down the highway towards Busan, the city lights blurring past in a dizzying kaleidoscope, Bundy's voice echoes in my mind.
"So, Park," he drawls, his tone dripping with false curiosity, "care to share what brilliant deduction has sent us racing off to Busan in the middle of the night?"
I grit my teeth, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I try to focus on the road ahead. "It's Yuri," I say, my voice tight with barely contained excitement. "She's been sending photos of her paintings to her brother, despite claiming she never showed them to anyone."
"Oh, really?" Bundy chuckles, a note of cruel amusement in his voice. "And what makes you so sure of that?"
"The evidence in her apartment," I reply, my mind flashing back to the cut-up photographs and scattered envelopes. "She's been carefully documenting her work, capturing each twisted creation and sending the images to Hosu. It's the only explanation that makes sense."