The Fourth Case (10)

The drive back to Seoul seems to stretch on forever, the miles blurring together into a haze of asphalt and neon as I try to make sense of the new information swirling in my mind. The empty envelopes, the ghost address, the twisted dance of letters and murder that seems to have no end...

As I navigate the winding streets of the city, the first rays of dawn breaking through the haze of smog and shadows, I can feel Bundy's presence in the back of my mind, his voice a constant whisper that seems to grow louder with each passing mile.

"So," he purrs, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "It seems our little mystery has taken quite the turn, hasn't it? Empty envelopes, sent over and over again to a wrong address... it's almost poetic, in a twisted sort of way."