Inside The Devil | M.yg × P.jm✓

IV

It's twilight night. The dead leaves swirled through the eddies of wind, leisurely laying about the pavement. The sky was plain and dark, gloomed as blind with almost no spark. Uttering through the motionless night were the only sounds of the occasional cries of night birds and the whoosh of strong gusts passing through the branches of trees.

Dr. Park sat at his table in front of the small lamp. In front of him, lay a file he held firmly in his hands, a dozen papers clustered on top of his desk. Early after he got home, Dr. Park immediately researched the background story of Min Yoongi, his mother, and the documentary of the crime, and printed them.

Now, there he sat, studying the events vigilantly. It was almost midnight but Dr. Park refused to rest, as the questions keeps him away from the devils in his nightmare waiting to leap at him as soon as he closed his eyes.

"Min Yoongi's mother passed away when he was five, under unknown circumstances… she was twenty-nine when she died… the autopsy says, her face was battered and her body was full with beaten marks and scratches. On her wrist, craved was what they claimed a demonic symbol."

A soft knock was heard on the door and Dr. Park turns to it and sees his mother, standing with a mug of what he smelt... a coffee. "I know you're still awake, so while doing your work — I thought of bringing you a coffee so you won't feel woolly reading those documents," says Mrs. Park as she puts the mug of coffee carefully on her son's table. Dr. Park smiled a little at his thoughtful mother and muttered a small 'thank you.'

Mrs. Park sinks crescendo on the bouncy bed, watching her hard-working son flip and rummage with the papers littered on top. "You and your father are just the same, hard-working. I remember your father hates to leave his work. He wants that he finish everything first before he left his seat. And there you are, doing almost the same as him in calls of work," Mrs. Park said. She flashed a wry smile as she reminisces the memory of her deceased lover.

The former stopped and dropped the paper in his hand, turns around to his mother, and smiled brittlely. "Dad, he's the inspiration why I'm doing good at work. I wanted to be just like him. Successful, smart, adamant, good at everything, conscientious, and on top of all, hardworking. I want him to be proud of me… even just in this, I can make him proud." Mrs. Park smiled, reached for her son's hand, and gripped them tightly, thumbs caressing it softly.

"Your father is very proud of who you becoming are today," she says and cradled her son's face with her soft and warm hand. "He's very proud of you, and I am so proud of you too." A bead of tear brimmed in his eye in a heartfelt word and credence he heard from his mother. Nothing in this world sounds better than those words a mother could say to her child. And nothing could make a child happier than a little assurance and appreciation from their parents. Something that ever once Dr. Park never heard from his father.

"By the way, what is that? You look stressed about it," Mrs. Park asked as soon as they pulled away. He turned to the papers on his table and back to his mother. He shrugged. "Just some background information about my patient… yeah, that's all," he lied.

"Is that really just background information, Jimin?" A curious tone in his mother's voice sends Dr. Park to a rigid. He nodded almost rapidly. "Of course!"

Mrs. Park gave off a disappointed look and sigh of dissatisfaction. "In every liar, I get to face every day, you're the worst one.… I know it's not just background information, Jimin. What are you planning to do?"

He sighed. "I am studying Min Yoongi's back story, the documentary of the crime, and about the death of his mother," Dr. Park admitted. He continued, "Mom, I know it's not my job anymore to tamper with my patient's past life — but I feel like something is not just right and—"

"And you're trying to figure out what it is like to be a man of the agent," Mrs. Park cuts him off. The coldness emanating from her tone, and anger speak volumes in her voice. She knew her son well, and also knew that once something caught Dr. Park's attention, he never let go of it unless he gets what he wanted and was satisfied with the result he received.

"Jimin, do you know what are you doing?" Mrs. Park yelled whispered, keeping her voice down to themselves. "Jimin, whatever you're trying to do, stop it. His past is not your responsibility and whatever that keeps you aligned about it, cut it out. I'm telling you, Jimin… as your mother, I am only telling you this because I don't want your life to be put in danger," Mrs. Park warned, gnashing her teeth through chewed words.

"Be careful, Jimin, if you have forgotten, you're not facing a mentally ill person. That kid is inhabited by Satan." Mrs. Park glared at him in warning against his plan, and stood up and left the room.

Dr. Park was left inside his room with a persistent aggravation with the continual conclusion breaking within, and an overwhelming desire sooted to know the little tingles had been scraping him for a long time now.