Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The torrential rain turned to hail at midnight as Li Eun-hee huddled in the Office of Academic Affairs, checking the files.
When the ultraviolet light swept over the freshman roster from 1985, the name "Cui Meishan" suddenly appeared on the third page, the ink glowing with a unique indigo fluorescence characteristic of Church Ink.
Even more chilling was the placement of her student photo, prominently featuring a still from the ballet "Giselle," where the lead actress had tears of blood streaming down her cheeks.
"Have you seen this?" Young detective Zheng Zaiyuan entered, holding a evidence bag containing a severed piece of nylon rope, with a barbed piece of shark cartilage caught in the knot. "It was retrieved from the ceiling beam of the Confessional Room. Your fingerprints were found on it."
Li Eun-hee's pupils dilated sharply. She had indeed broken into Sacred Heart Hall three days prior, but only to retrieve a videotape of a selection competition that had been secretly recorded.
As her fingers brushed against the evidence bag, dark green liquid suddenly seeped from the shark cartilage, corroding the surface of the table into an outline of scripture from Chapter Seven of Revelation.
The forensic autopsy report arrived at dawn: the fingernail belonged to Park Se Na, a mute girl with congenital vocal cord defects, yet her fingertips showed signs of muscle memory typical of a professional ballet dancer.
Even more bizarre were the remnants found in her stomach—large amounts of undigested alloy from the Seoul Cathedral Organ pipes, perfectly matching the titanium powder on her training outfit.
"I need to see the body." When Li Eun-hee burst into the morgue, the refrigeration unit emitted a hum reminiscent of the Seoul Cathedral Organ.
Park Se Na's left ankle was unnaturally turned out at a 55-degree angle, and the incision on her Achilles tendon was as smooth as if done by laser surgery.
As she used tweezers to probe the wound, she uncovered half of a platinum hairpin embedded in the gray-white ligaments, with dark red bone fragments lodged between its teeth.
The call from the forensic lab came at dawn: "The cut surface of the Achilles tendon shows traces of high-frequency vibrations, similar to what a dental drill would produce at 40,000 Hz." The technician's voice trembled slightly. "But medical equipment from 1986 could only reach up to 30,000 Hz..."
On the day of the selection competition, rain poured down once again.
While Li Eun-hee was adjusting video equipment backstage, an auxiliary device labeled Crimson suddenly rewound itself automatically. The screen flickered with distorted images: on what should have been an empty third barre, two legs could be seen performing 32 fouettés en tournant in "Swan Lake," but military boots' metal buckles peeked out from beneath the skirt.
When Kim So Yeon's scream pierced through the rain curtain, Li Eun-hee was the first to rush into the dressing room.
On the mirrored wall, an equilateral triangle was drawn in blood, with each vertex pinned with a platinum hairpin.
Kim So Yeon's left foot was caught in a drainage grate; her fibula had fractured at an angle so precise it could have been calibrated with a protractor—55 degrees—exactly matching the number she had written on her score sheet three days earlier during the selection competition.
As police sealed off the scene, Li Eun-hee discovered a miniature recorder behind the dressing mirror. The Crimson label read "1988 Seoul Olympics Preparatory Meeting Record," but what played back was a performance of Requiem by Seoul Cathedral Organ. Voiceprint analysis revealed that background sound contained 17.5 Hz infrasound—this frequency could induce resonance-induced cardiac arrest in humans.
"Do you recognize this?" Zheng Zaiyuan held up a copper knob from a sealed bag; it was a weapon that had flown off from one end of the barre. "The lathe markings on its inner side indicate this is a bolt specifically manufactured for Olympic venues starting in 1988."
As rain washed away bloodstains on the playground, Li Eun-hee suddenly recalled that deep night three days ago when she had stumbled upon Cui Meishan practicing alone in the dance studio. At that time, moonlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting shadows of four dancers in different poses across the floor.
Looking back now, the joints of those shadowy arms all formed a 55-degree angle, as if they were puppets controlled by invisible strings.
Comment 0 Comment Count