The rain had stopped.
But the city hadn't recovered.
By morning, the streets looked normal again—cars moving, people rushing, life continuing as if nothing had happened.
But inside the police station, everything felt different.
Heavier.
Kang Ara stood in front of the investigation board, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the small photograph pinned at the center.
A nine-year-old girl.
Mina.
"Three hours," she said quietly.
The detective beside her nodded. "That's how long it took before the report came in."
Ara's jaw tightened. "And now it's been over twelve."
No one needed to say it.
Time was already working against them.
⸻
The room buzzed with low conversations, papers shifting, keyboards tapping—but none of it felt productive enough.
Ara turned sharply. "Run it again."
"We already checked the CCTV footage twice," one officer replied.
"Then check it a third time," Ara snapped. "People don't just disappear."
The officer nodded quickly and got back to work.
⸻
Across the room, Kang Min leaned against a desk, flipping through the case file.
The mother's statement.
Repeated, consistent, but frustratingly empty.
"No suspicious individuals. No unusual activity. The child was playing outside."
He exhaled sharply, closing the file.
"Too clean," he muttered.
Ara glanced at him. "You said that yesterday."
"And I mean it more today," Kang Min replied. "There's no struggle, no noise, no witnesses. That's not luck—that's planning."
Ara walked over, lowering her voice. "You think it was targeted?"
Kang Min didn't answer immediately.
His gaze drifted back to the photograph.
"…Yes."
⸻
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then Ara spoke again. "The mother was already questioned for hours. There's nothing there."
"No inconsistencies?" Kang Min asked.
"None," Ara said. "If she's lying, she's perfect. And I don't believe she is."
Kang Min nodded slowly.
"Then the focus shifts," he said.
"To the child," Ara finished.
⸻
They both turned back to the board.
Photos. Maps. Timelines.
A small life, reduced to fragments of information.
"Nine years old," Ara said. "Routine: school, home, nearby park. Nothing unusual."
Kang Min's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Nothing obvious," he corrected.
Ara looked at him. "What are you thinking?"
He tapped lightly on the edge of the board.
"A clean abduction means control," he said. "The kidnapper knew when to act, where to stand, how to avoid attention."
"So?" Ara pressed.
"So this wasn't random," Kang Min replied. "It can't be."
⸻
An officer rushed over.
"Detective Kang—Detective Ara," he said, slightly out of breath. "We found something."
Ara turned instantly. "What is it?"
"Traffic cam footage from two streets away," the officer said. "Time stamp matches shortly after the estimated disappearance."
Kang Min straightened. "Show us."
⸻
The footage flickered onto the screen.
Grainy. Slightly distorted.
But clear enough.
A small figure appeared briefly at the corner of the frame.
Mina.
Walking.
Alone.
Ara frowned. "Why isn't she running?"
"Or crying," Kang Min added quietly.
They watched as the girl slowed near the roadside.
Then—
A vehicle pulled up beside her.
Dark-colored. No visible plates from that angle.
The door opened.
There was a pause.
Just a second.
Two at most.
And then—
Mina stepped in.
On her own.
⸻
The room fell silent.
"That's not an abduction," one officer whispered.
Ara's expression hardened. "No," she said. "It's something worse."
Kang Min didn't take his eyes off the screen.
"She wasn't forced," he said.
Ara crossed her arms tightly. "Which means she trusted whoever was inside."
⸻
The video ended.
But the impact lingered.
"Enhance the footage," Ara ordered. "I want the car, the driver—anything."
"We're already working on it," the officer replied.
⸻
Kang Min stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
"A child doesn't just get into a stranger's car," he said.
"No," Ara agreed. "They don't."
Another pause.
Then she looked at him.
"Unless they don't think it's a stranger."
⸻
That thought settled heavily in the room.
Kang Min glanced again at Mina's photo.
Her small, innocent smile.
Unaware of the storm now surrounding her.
"We're missing something," he said.
Ara nodded slowly. "Then we find it."
⸻
Outside, the sky had cleared completely.
Sunlight stretched across the city, warm and indifferent.
But somewhere within it—
A child was gone.
And the clock was still ticking.