chapter 11

Chapter 11

My mother was easygoing and never questioned what men did outside the home; she always trusted her husband.

The terrifying word “murder” was far too distant from us. We never imagined it could be so close, nor did we ever notice any signs.

In our eyes, my father was a truly good man-he valued family, loved his wife and child, and cared for us wholeheartedly.

But the psychological burden on my father grew heavier with time.

I was smart from a young age and excelled in my studies; my father was always proud of me. As I grew older, he became increasingly worried that he would become a burden to me.

Because I had lofty ambitions to become a police officer, while he harbored the secret of having killed someone.

Time passed quickly, and in 1997, a series of murders occurred in a neighboring city, causing a huge social impact. The local police launched a large-scale investigation, collecting and screening fingerprints from hundreds of thousands of men in the area.

If the neighboring city finished its investigation without finding the culprit, it was likely they would expand the search to our city, and might incidentally uncover the suspect in another unresolved case from twelve years before.

You can escape for a while, but not forever. My father knew he would be exposed sooner or later. If he didn’t end things himself before the truth came out, I would be branded as the son of a murderer.

So, in the same year I took my college entrance exam and stepped onto a broad new path, my father’s journey came to an end.