The next few days blurred together. Hana carried her teddy everywhere, never letting it out of her sight. Mr. Choi had promised to send the stained fur for testing, but results would take time. Too much time.
Hana didn't want to wait.
At school, she sat quietly in the back of the class, sketching in the corner of her notebook. She drew the man's jacket again and again—always with that missing button near the collar. She drew the storm, the alley, the wild eyes. Her classmates whispered, laughed, even tore one of her sketches once, but she kept drawing. She couldn't let the image fade.
That afternoon, Mrs. Lee lingered as the students left. She stopped by Hana's desk, gently lifting one of the sketches.
"This man," she murmured. "You keep drawing him."
Hana looked up, eyes sharp. She nodded.
Mrs. Lee studied the drawing carefully, then lowered her voice. "Hana… I've seen someone in town with a jacket like this. Missing a button right here." She tapped the paper.
Hana's breath caught. Her fingers gripped the desk until her knuckles turned white.
"Don't get too excited," Mrs. Lee cautioned. "It might not mean anything. But… maybe it does." She slid the paper back and straightened, forcing a calm smile. "I'll tell Mr. Choi. He should know."
Hana nodded quickly, her heart racing
That evening, Mr. Choi knocked on their door. Mrs. Park let him in, fussing nervously about the neighbors whispering and reporters snooping around. Hana barely heard. She dragged him into the living room and thrust her drawings into his hands.
He frowned. "Mrs. Lee told me you might have seen someone with this jacket."
Hana nodded fiercely. She snatched up her bear, pointing at the stain, then at the sketch. Her eyes begged him to understand.
Mr. Choi's jaw tightened. "If that's true… then we have a lead. A real suspect."
He dug into his briefcase and pulled out a list of names—the victim's acquaintances, coworkers, people questioned by the police. "The police barely interviewed half of these people. If someone around town matches this jacket, we'll find him."
Hana leaned forward, eyes wide with determination.
But Mr. Choi shook his head. "No. You're a child. It's too dangerous for you to get involved."
Her chest clenched. She hugged her teddy close, shaking her head violently.
Mr. Choi sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're brave, Hana. Braver than most adults I know. But promise me—you'll let me handle this. If that man is dangerous, I can't risk him knowing you saw him."
Hana looked down, lips pressed tight. She didn't nod. She didn't promise.
Because deep inside, she knew: if the world refused to believe her father's innocence, then it might be up to her.
The next morning, Hana took a different path to school. Her heart pounded as she walked through the market streets. Vendors shouted, customers argued, children ran between stalls. She scanned every face, every jacket, her sketch burned into her mind.
And then she saw him.
At the far end of the street, near the fish stall. A man with a heavy build, his collar turned up against the chill. His jacket—dark, frayed, with a button missing right where Hana had drawn it.
Her breath hitched. Her knees trembled.
He turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Sharp jaw, restless eyes, a scar along his cheek. He looked nothing like her father. Nothing.
Hana ducked behind a stall, clutching her teddy bear to her chest. Her heart thundered so loudly she was sure he would hear it.
The man bought his fish and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Hana stayed frozen, her mind spinning. She wanted to run after him, to shout, There! That's him! But no sound would leave her lips.
Instead, she pulled a piece of paper from her bag and sketched his face as fast as her shaking hands would allow.
When she was done, she stared at it, her chest heaving.
The missing button wasn't just a memory anymore. It was real.
She had seen him.
The real killer
To be continued…