"If there's a weak link on the team, it's Lucanis," she told Viago in a crisp, neutral tone. Rook had made the judgement call early on, and nothing that she'd seen as she filled out the roster for the team led her to change her mind.
"Can you keep his demon under control?" Viago asked. His tone was cool and professional. This was a conversation between Crow and Talon alone; Teia wouldn't have liked it. "I'd rather have Lucanis as First Talon. If we do need to back Illario, the Crows would be in a stronger position to recover if Lucanis were to suffer an accident early on."
Rook snorted. "Do you believe Illario's crocodile tears? With how close he is to the First Talon position?"
"Rook," Viago said, a note of dark warning in his voice, "if I get the impression you're underestimating either of the Dellamortes, I'm pulling you off the job and handing it to Noa. Her house would consider it a favour."
"Not when I'm so close," Rook snapped, before she went carefully blank as Viago clutched his cane. With or without his old leg injury, her head of house was lethal. He'd been the one to teach her how to kill a man with a thousand cuts—and how to keep him alive that long. "Viago. Please. I know how to make the smart play."
🐦⬛ 🐦⬛ 🐦⬛
I was tagged by @hyperions-light and @biowaredisasterbisexual to post a WIP! This is some Rookanis I'm noodling on to potentially complete for @dafuckedupshipsweek.
If you're seeing this, consider it an invite to post a snippet of your own WIP and tag me. :)
Were you planning on doing a crime with your fingerprints exposed!?
Tsk tsk
———-Amateur———-
Okay, okay
here are some tips
(I’ve used some, I assure you it works. Did full research, no need to worry)
-Apply superglue on your fingertips. The more superglue applied the better. Don’t try pulling them after, you will just end up hurting yourself. Good for a couple of weeks
-Simply layout some silicone - say from clear selastic - like a gutter guard or similar. place fingertips onto silicone while wet, allow to dry and no more fingerprints until the selastic eventually rubs off - approx. 2 weeks. this gives a clear smooth fingertip leaving no prints without the need for gloves.
-Pineapple is the only known source in nature of the enzyme Bromelain. ... But don't worry, once you swallow the pineapple the acids in your stomach destroy the enzymes. It is also often suggested that workers in pineapple fields have no fingerprints because the bromelain in the pineapple wears them away.
-Sand fingerprints off using sandpaper or a pumice stone. This can be a little painful for some, but you will mostly be scraping off dead skin cells
Non-latex, nitrile exam gloves are the clear choice for fingerprint concealment as latex-free, Nitrile exam gloves are thicker and three times more puncture resistant than their latex laden. Or... wear cotton gloves. The thicker the better. Fingerprints can be extracted from Latex Gloves
Mike Malloy was an Irish man who lived in New York. Once employed as an engineer, the Great Depression meant that there were few jobs. Mike was struggling to make ends meet and ended up drinking most nights.
Times were desperate for a lot of people in the 1930’s, but few would go as far as a gang eventually known as The Murder Trust. The men decided to take out some life insurance policies on someone, kill them and claim the money. They just had to find an easy target.
In December 1932, a bartender named Joseph Murphy created 3 policies for his “brother” Nicholas Mellory. Nicholas didn’t exist, but they planned to pass their victim off as the deceased when they went to claim the money. The other members of the gang were Tony Marino – the owner of the bar, Frank Pasqua – an undertaker and Daniel Kreisberg – a fruit seller.
The life insurance money was worth over $30,000 in todays economy. Mike Malloy was the perfect person to play Nicholas Mellory, he just had no idea of his role.
At first they tried to kill him with alcohol poisoning, Mike was broke so when all the drinks were suddenly “on the house” he was ecstatic, but no matter how much he consumed, he was still standing.
The gang tried methanol and some highly poisonous ethanol that wasn’t suitable for human consumption, but it seemed as though Mike Mallory was indestructible.
They came up with a new plan, a sandwich that would surely kill him, carefully prepared with gone off sardines, carpet tacks, glass and shredded tin. Mike asked for a second helping.
They then tried some oysters mixed with denatured alcohol, something that would kill most people, not Mike Malloy.
Next they left Mike out in the freezing cold, soaked him in water and left him to succumb to the elements, Mike was back at the bar the next day.
The next to join the gang was Hershey Green, a cab driver who agreed to run Mike over.
On January 30th 1993 Mike was brought to Fordham hospital after being found on the side of the road. He suffered from a concussion, broken shoulder and a possible fractured skull.
The gang kept their eyes on the headlines for news of the Irishmans death but just a week later Mike was back at the bar, ready for a drink.
There was a botched machine gun attack, the time they just hit him over the head and finally they took a tube from the gas light in a hotel room and placed it in his mouth while he slept off yet another night of free drink.
Mike was finally killed on the 10th attempt. A doctor signed off on his death as pneumonia and listed him as Nicholas Mellory, for a fee.
The gang had spent about half of the money they would receive from the policy just trying to kill Mike and give him free food and drink. He wasn’t offered much in death, his funeral was little more than $20 and the Murder Trust didn’t even have his remains embalmed. A mistake that would come back to haunt them.
When the authorities got wind of what happened Mike Malloy was exhumed and given a full autopsy, revealing he had died from carbon monoxide poisoning.
Mike Malloy
The 5 members of the Murder trust were put on trial and convicted, Green was sent to prison and the 4 others were executed in the electric chair the following year. It took ten attempts to kill Iron Mike, but just one to kill the cowards who pretended to be his friends.
“Who’s down for some murder?” marcoace with maybe luffy or sabo?
“Don’t say it,” Ace mutters, sprawled across Marco’s chest on the couch. “If you say it, they’ll both appear and then they’ll invite their friends and we’ll have too many people.”
Marco laughs, eyes closed as he plays with Ace’s hair, “You say that like it won’t make it more confusing for the police. It’s not like all of them have to be fun.”
“Luffy’ll bring Robin. Which means Franky and Brook will come. Robin will call Nami and where Nami goes, Sanji follows. Sanji will be followed by Zoro, because Zoro doesn’t trust Sanji around women and Chopper doesn’t trust Zoro to take care of himself, so he’ll come too.”
“Doesn’t Luffy have another friend?”
“Usopp will appear just as things are going from bad to worse and say something about can’t-do-this-itis.”
“And Sabo?”
“Sabo mean Hack and Koala are here before he can say anything. Koala will probably call Jinbe if Brook hasn’t at that point and Hack has friends. Sabo also means that Luffy’s dad, Dragon, will get involved and thus means that Garp is pulled in to cover up what we can’t hide.”
“Garp knows?”
“That we routinely kill supernatural creatures that try to eat us? Of course he does, he taught us at least half of what we know.”
Marco hums, sighing as he turns onto his side, ignoring the disgruntled noise Ace makes at the shift, “Aren’t you also supernatural creatures?”
“We’re cool ones,” Ace mumbles, muffled against Marco’s shoulder. “We don’t kill people indiscriminately,” he pauses for a long moment. “I forgot Law.”
“Trafalgar?”
“Mhm, Luffy will call him because Luffy thinks they’re friends, and they probably are knowing Luffy, and that means his crew will show up too. Not to mention if I say something in the wrong group chat.”
“It’s more like a stage production than a murder at that point.”
Ace nods, yawning as he cuddles closer, “Exactly. It’ll be too many people and not worth the murder.”
“We still have to kill them.”
“Can do it ourselves then, without the help.”
“You don’t want to ask your brothers who’s down for murder?” Marco teases, burying his nose in Ace’s hair as the front door slams open. “Oh no.”
“Are you killing someone, Ace?” Luffy demands, Marco can feel him slamming into the back of the couch, partially draped over it. “Can I help?”
“No, we’re not killing anyone,” Ace groans. “We’re napping.”
Luffy whines and Marco knows that it’s going to esculate from a simple in and out murder by him and Ace to the production that Ace had predicted, “Pretty please?”
“Fine, fine,” Ace says after ten minutes of whining. “You can help. But only after I take a nap.”
“Yes!” Luffy shouts, already pulling out his phone as he hurries from the room, “Robin!”
Marco pinches Ace’s side when he feels teeth too close to his shoulder, “No biting.”
“Deserve it,” Ace mutters darkly. “This is your fault.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to have your teeth buried in my shoulder and if you say one thing about me not complaining about it last night, I will use you to break a wall.”
Ace laughs, sobering quickly as he hides his face against Marco’s chest, “Should we deal with that or nap first?”
Marco hears something crash in the distance and Luffy promising that it’s fine, “Nap first. Murder later.”
Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham
Warnings: Angst, Revenge Plotting, Discussion of Cannibalism
Chapter: 8. This Riddle Of Revenge
Description: Jack receives a call from Alana. Will and Hannibal discuss what they intend to do with Bedelia and Jack when they get their hands on them.
Authors Notes: So this took me way longer than I’d like to finish. The muses buggered off on me for a bit. But I’m back in time to get this posted before my birthday =D Yay!
Read on AO3
“Yes, Jack, I got the video,” Alana confirms with a sigh over the phone. She watched it three times before calling.
“And?” Jack asks expectantly.
“You want my professional opinion?” she asks, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She only reached out to Jack via email earlier in the day to see if he had any information not shared in the news regarding Will and Hannibal being declared dead. She figured he would email her back with something other than a video of Will and Hannibal killing Francis Dolarhyde then falling off a cliff.
“That’s exactly what I want. I want to know what you think happened. You know Will better than I do. Do you think it’s possible he pushed them over the edge, or do you think that they fell? And do you think it’s possible they’re still alive.” It’s all he’s been able to think about for the last week. Did Will push them, or did he fall with Hannibal in some sort of staged plan to escape? Whatever the answer he won’t be satisfied until he has some kind of solid evidence. Which he, unfortunately, found none of while searching the area around the bluffs.
Half of the homeowners in the area refused to allow their vacation homes to be searched. Some stated that they had already been down to check the homes themselves and found nothing out of place. Others just ignored them or said they could search them if Jack got a warrant. With no evidence leading anyone to believe Will and Hannibal made it out of the ocean, no judge would issue one.
“I think that given the frame of mind Will had been in while helping you track down Francis Dolarhyde, he probably came to some kind of truce with Hannibal despite his feelings towards him to take the psychopath down. As for how things went with Hannibal in the end, Will knows how ruthless Hannibal can be, he probably saw no other way of dealing with him and pushed him over the edge the only way he could. The way they turned before falling would seem to support that.” Alana manages to sound professional as she gives Jack her assessment of things. Honestly, she has some very small doubts. But she isn’t going to voice them. Jack is wound tight enough as it is, she doesn’t want to agitate him when it’s likely pointless.
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Jack confesses with a sigh. He remembers the three of them deciding they needed to kill Hannibal after Hannibal helps him kill Dolarhyde, but he never meant for it to go down like this. “Molly Graham is speaking at my suspension hearing next week. She wouldn’t return any of my calls after we initially spoke the day Will disappeared. I don’t think I’ll have my job for much longer…”
“Well, you did want to retire soon,” Alana notes, trying to lighten the mood of the call even just a little. She hasn’t met Molly, but knowing the kind of people Will is attracted to, she can imagine what she must be like.
“I had been hoping it would be at least a few more years away. When I was completely grey and too tired to hold a gun,” Jack says woefully. “Is everything alright with you? How are Margot and Morgan holding up?”
“We’re all just fine, Jack. Margot is busy teaching Morgan how to swim right now. I tried to tell her he’s a little young for that, but they’re having a good time so I won’t spoil their fun,” Alana tells him with a small smile to herself. She can see her wife and son out swimming through the window of her office. The estate they’re staying on is big. Not as big as the one in Virginia. But it’s substantial. And it has a pool. Which works in their favor since it’s summer in the southern hemisphere.
“Must be nice. It’s still cold here,” Jack tells her with a chuckle. It’s warmed up a little since the storm that made the search for Will and Hannibal difficult, but it’s still only in the forties out most days.
“It is… Listen, Jack, I don’t honestly know if Will and Hannibal could have survived that fall or not. But I think if they had we would have had some sort of sign by now. Will would reach out to Molly or you if he could. Hannibal can bide his time when he wants something, but if he’s got Will with him I’m not so sure he would hold back for long.”
“It’s a waiting game. One that might never end…” Jack says as he turns in his chair to look out his office window. It’s a nice enough day out. Warming up enough to allow more snow to melt.
“I need to go. I promised Margot I wouldn’t be too long. Email if you need to get in contact with me again. You’ll forgive me for not giving you another way to contact me, but we can’t be too careful,” Alana says, feeling just a little bad. She knows she can trust Jack. But wants to protect her family, and that means not trusting anyone despite what her gut tells her.
“I will. Thank you, Alana. Take care.”
“Take care, Jack.”
~~~~~
Twelve Days Post Fall
“You’re certain you’re ready to move forward with things?” Will asks as he removes the last stitch from the healed gunshot wound in Hannibal’s back. Hannibal removed the ones in the front on his own, but he needed Will’s help with the ones in his back just as he had in getting the wound stitches properly closed a day after receiving it.
“Absolutely,” Hannibal answers with a glance over his shoulder at Will. He’s seated in one of the wooden chairs at the table, Will kneeling behind him. He would have liked to take the stitches out a little sooner, but Will had taken one look at them after nine days and said he needed more time to heal. He finds that hard to believe, but he went with Will’s judgment in this case. He suspects it was something more along the lines of Will not feeling ready to remove them for him as he still felt off-kilter from dealing with his own.
“Then we should go for Bedelia first. She more than likely went off on her own again rather than going into FBI protective custody. And even if she had that would have ended shortly after we were declared dead,” Will notes as he moves to help Hannibal put his shirt back on. Not that he needs the help, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He feels cooped up. And he misses his dogs.
“Tracking her down won’t be difficult. She let slip one night that she used to summer in Connecticut. I believe her family still owns a home there that we can locate easily enough.” She had made the comment at a party they attended when first arriving in Italy. She didn’t think he was within earshot at the time, or she never would have said it. Everything she told the people they met was either a half-truth or some other variation thereof. He could always tell when she was lying. And she knew it. So, she didn’t bother lying beyond the deception of their true identities. “Tell me, do you intend to help me deal with her, or do you simply wish to watch?”
Will steps around the chair Hannibal sits in to stand in front of him, watching as he carefully buttons his shirt while he thinks on his answer. A small part of him almost likes Bedelia. But knowing she got away with the lengths she went to lie and cover her own skin after willingly leaving the country with Hannibal bothers him on some level. She was honest with Will in private. He can appreciate that. But she’s used her experience with Hannibal to make a name for herself and gain a level of professional esteem that she never would have achieved otherwise. It’s almost as irritating as what Chilton did with his damn book.
“What exactly is it that you plan on doing with her?” Will asks leu of answering right away. He knows Hannibal intends to eat her. The question is, does he plan to kill her and then eat her, or keep her alive like he did with Miriam Lass so he can toy with her first?
“I was thinking I might like to give her a similar treatment to that of the one I gave Dr. Gideon,” Hannibal explains as he finishes buttoning his shirt and moves to stand so that he and Will are eye to eye.
“The forensic report said his limbs had been amputated,” Will recalls with a tilt of his head. He didn’t ever get a look at the body in person, just read the paperwork and look at photos later on. “Taken one by one over the course of roughly two weeks. His stomach had his own partially digested remains inside.”
The smile on Hannibal’s face is one of his rare genuine ones. “He made for a most fascinating dinner guest. It was almost a shame to kill him. He ate everything I prepared and served him. Even when he was down to a single arm and had very little appetite left,” Hannibal recalls. The man was absolutely insufferable on some levels, but he took his fate in stride and could keep up a conversation. He can respect that at least.
“I don’t know if I’m more impressed or disturbed by that,” Will says with a shake of his head. He’s joking, just a little.
“I seriously doubt that you find anything I’m capable of to be truly disturbing at this point,” Hannibal speculates. “If the idea of my keeping Bedelia alive bothers you, you don’t have to participate. I’m more than capable of taking care of her on my own.”
Will considers the offer. Thinks about what it would be like to sit at the table with her and Hannibal as he serves up some piece of her like a fine holiday meal. See the look of defeat in her eyes as she accepts her plate. A small, fading part of him still screams somewhere deep down that it’s wrong. But he doesn’t honestly feel bothered by the idea. Especially given the fact that he knows he’s eaten people before… Unwittingly as it was at the time. “It doesn’t bother me,” he finally admits as he turns away to look out the window.
“You’re certain?” Hannibal questions carefully. They’ve not really talked about this yet. Killing Jack together was a given. But Bedelia is Hannibal’s own personal vendetta. He knows Will accepts that Hannibal intends to eat them both. But he hasn’t said if he intends to join him or not. Which Hannibal won’t push. He won’t force him to do something he isn’t interested to in this case.
“I don’t feel any desire to eat her, but I would like to see the look on Bedelia’s face when you serve up a piece of her up for dinner,” Will admits as he glances back to Hannibal. He doesn’t miss the way his words affect the other man. Something in his eyes becoming almost primal. It sends a shiver down his spine as it reminds him of the look in Hannibal’s eyes when he ripped out Francis Dolarhyde’s throat with his teeth. “Do you intend to do the same to Jack when we go after him?”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but I leave that decision up to you. After all, you are the one who was most wronged by him. He treated you like an animal, Will. And an ill cared for one, at that. I think it’s only fair you should be the one to decide what’s to be done with him in the end,” Hannibal says as he turns to grab his notebook from where he left it beside the bed. He doesn’t doubt that whatever Will decides upon will be in some way satisfying for him also. He remembers quite well how vivid the other incredibly man’s imagination is. “You should take your time deciding. Nothing has to be settled upon until after we’ve finished with Bedelia.”
“I already know what I want to do with Jack,” Will says plainly as he watches Hannibal walk over to take his usual seat on the far end of the couch. He always lets Will take the side closest to the window so that he can sit and look outside if he likes. It also means he’s facing Hannibal if he does so. And he’s not blind to the fact that he’s been the subject of more than one of Hannibal’s sketches in that situations.
“Oh?” Hannibal doesn’t look up, just turns the pages of the notebook until he finds the latest sketch he’d been working on.
“I was thinking about how he and I first met,” Will begins as he takes his seat opposite Hannibal on the couch, body turned towards him with one leg pulled up onto the space between them at an angle. His posture is wide open. One arm resting on the back of the couch while the other rests so his hand is in his lap.
That gets a curious look from Hannibal, who pauses in the shading he’d begun to work on. “The museum opening?”
Nodding, Will scratches at his jaw and looks out the window once again. There are still patches of snow on the ground. Early March weather changing the landscape to a muddy semi-frozen mess. “I have some ideas on how we might contribute our own exhibit to it.”
The smile that creeps on to Will’s face is enough to give Hannibal an idea of what the other man is thinking, and it sends a thrill through him at the thought of Will having thought this through already in detail. “He did seem quite invested the one time we spoke of the museum.”
Will huffs a laugh, because that is a serious understatement. “Jack was intimately involved in creating and establishing that museum. He helped track down half of the items on display personally. He was like a proud parent come to watch their child graduate when it finally opened.” He remembers their argument over the name that night well. And he remembers thinking Jack was a fool that would probably end up part of a display in his own creation someday. It only seems fitting that he and Hannibal be the ones to put him there. “He was almost as invested in the forming of that museum as he was in finding the Chesapeake Ripper,” he notes. “How do you feel about making him into an exhibit in his own museum? I was thinking something along the lines of the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits?”
“A mosaic forged from the elements of my previous kills?” Hannibal finds himself imagining Jack strung up like a mannequin, body cut open, various pieces missing or artistically arranged along with him. Posed in a way that lets everyone who lays their eyes upon him see the scope of their work at a glimpse. It gives him an idea of what to do with the rest of Bedelia when he’s finished with her as well. “Beautiful.”
“I thought you might like that idea,” Will says almost fondly with a shake of his head before looking outside once again. The sunlight makes his eyes sparkle with an almost ethereal glow.
It makes Hannibal want to flip the page and draw him yet again… “What about your own contribution? This would be your work of art as well as my own,” Hannibal reminds him. He honestly loves Will’s idea, but he wants him to contribute his own elements to this creation.
“I have my own twist to put on things,” Will says vaguely as he turns his head and glances towards the tacklebox where it rests by the table. “Don’t worry, Hannibal, I intend to leave my mark alongside yours when the time comes.”
“I look forward to it,” Hannibal confesses with a small smile. He’s watched Will for almost two weeks now. Making his fishing lures and daydreaming. He wishes he could see the things that come to that fascinating mind when it drifts. He knows Will likes to go to his stream when he has nothing else to do, but he also lets himself wander to darker places from time to time now that he only dared go when Hannibal asked. Because of that, it’s easy to spot when he does. His eyes take on a more feral sharpness that isn’t there other than when he’s ready to kill. It never fails to bring a similar desire out in Hannibal when he sees it.
“When do you want to leave?” Will asks with a tilt of his head after a moment silence passes between them. His gaze has drifted to the sketch in Hannibal’s hands. It’s of his old office. The furniture and fireplace are what give it away at a glance. Will still sees the room in his mind regularly enough to recognize the half-drawn shapes.
“I’ll give Chiyoh a call tomorrow and ask her to bring us to my house in New York. She can get us a temporary vehicle and more supplies while we get the house ready for guests.” He hasn’t been there in over four years. Having last gone some time before ever meeting Will. He’ll need to get new medical supplies and restock the pantry before they make their move to retrieve Bedelia.
“How far away is this place, anyway?”
Humming, Hannibal thinks a moment. “About four hours or so. It’s in the lower mountains, close to a town called Rhinebeck.”
“Great,” Will mutters with a slight look of discomfort flashing across his face. He doesn’t know how to feel about being in a car with Chiyoh for that long. He’s still a little bitter about their last interaction on the train. Her visit to bring them supplies was awkward enough for him as it was. He can only imagine what a road trip with her would be like. Especially with Hannibal and his ability to read people most of the time.
“You worry too much, Will. Chiyoh holds no feelings of ill will towards you. She is aware of how important you are to me. That makes you important to her as well. You’re family, and she would never do anything to hurt family,” Hannibal does his best to assure. He had spoken with her in private outside before she left the other day. She could tell from one look at the two of them together that something had shifted in their dynamic. He didn’t need to explain and she didn’t ask. Only promised to help the two of them finish what they needed here so they could find a quiet life together when all is said and done.
Will shifts almost uncomfortably in his seat, hand going to that torn bit of leather on the couch back to fidget with. “Did she tell you that or are you just making assumptions based on interactions?”
“She gave me her word,” Hannibal says in way of clarification. “She promised me to assist us in getting our affairs in order so that we may leave together after things have been taken care of.”
Will raises his eyes from Hannibal’s drawing and once again meets Hannibal’s gaze, uncertain blue meeting confident whiskey-brown. He relaxes after a beat and nods. “Alright,” is all he says before averting his gaze again and letting his thoughts drift. It’s good to know she’s willing to help them in some way. That she made that promise to Hannibal.
His thoughts find their way to images of them confronting Jack. Going through various scenarios of how they might surprise him to get the upper hand in a fight against the well-trained agent. What things they might do with his body after to leave their farewell masterpiece.
The only thing that draws his mind away is the realization that Hannibal is watching him from mere feet away with a smile on his face. It makes him look younger. And draws Will’s gaze to his lips more than once. He tries to hold back the thoughts that come with looking at them. He’s not quite ready for them. At least not yet.
Plot: A timid office worker (Yoon Shi-yoon) who witnesses a murder a murder by a serial killer (Park Sung-hoon), gains the killer's diary but soon loses his memory after he gets in an accident. When he wakes up, he doesn't remember who he is and thinks the diary in his possession is his, which leads him to believe he is the killer. The police officer (Jung In-sun) who caused his accident is also working to track down the serial killer.
Review:
First of all, I love any crime related drama/movies. They are my absolute favorite. Which is why, I am pretty critical whenever I watch a new crime theme drama. So, when I first read the synopsis of this drama, I knew one thing for sure. It was going to hilarious. And I was right.
The plot is very interesting and YSY did a fantastic job portraying the main character. The comedy comes in with this timid man, who is afraid of everything, trying to cope with the idea that he is a killer. At first he is unsure but his fragmented memory leads him to really believe that he is a killer. He embraces his psychopath identity and gains confidence which affects his interaction with everyone around him. There is a whole shenanigan with him trying to plot murders and yet unintentionally ending up as a hero instead! #hilarious 🤣🤣
And then there is our actual serial killer (PSH), who begins to interact with YSY and ends up believing that he (PSH) might be dealing with a person of his kind aka a psychopath! His reactions to YSY are so fun and priceless.😂 He did a brilliant work of being a mix of creepy and very entertaining. 👍🏻👍🏻
Plus, we have our lovely police officer (JIS), who is on the killer's trail and becomes confused when the clues begin to lead her to YSY, who does not really seem like the culprit. She does a really great job at being quick-witted and was a lovely friend to YSY, even though she was starting to doubt him.
Conclusion: All in all, the whole cast and crew did a fantastic job in bringing the story come alive. A huge shout out to Yoon Shi-yoon for his brilliant portrayal the character and was a real treat to watch. The interaction between the real and fake psycho were the highlight for me. The identity crisis within himself was simultaneously hilarious and compelling. The drama evaded the typical prototype of the crime genre and presented a fantastic blend of conflict and humour to the audience.
Rating: 9/10
Tldr: A comedy-crime thriller with a lot of misconceptions & miscommunication
A detective story writer falls for a murderer. At a country house in 20's, where they both have been invited to celebrate a birthday of a mutual friend. The writer doesn't know, let alone want to believe the murderer is a murderer when the celebrated friend dies suddenly mid-party. It has all the potential to be a perfect crime, but the writer has teached himself to think like a killer.
