"If you ask me who on this campus is most likely to commit murder, I'd have only one person in mind."
"And who would that be?"
"You."
Kim Miran has two goals in life: One, to get through her final year as a Criminology major and graduate successfull...
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Miran’s words resound dully within the sparsely furnished apartment.
Yoongi stares at her, unblinking, while the rest of them attempt to digest this newest revelation. It is only nine in the morning, and already, it feels like everything around them is falling to pieces.
Jimin finally ventures to break the silence. “So…what exactly happened that night, Miran?” His voice is soft, comforting, and she looks up to find that all her friends are watching her with nothing but concern. Sidling her head, she studies Yoongi. His expression remains inscrutable.
“I remember going to the den, hoping to get through to Joonhyung one last time. But he wouldn’t listen. Despite his refusal to see reason, I kept trying to convince him to leave that cruddy place, and come with me to somewhere we could both get help. But Joonhyung was adamant, and seeing no other way, I left him there. I shouldn’t have, especially in light of what happened. But I did.”
Yoongi finally speaks. “I found his body in our dorm room, a discarded injection lying beside his unmoving frame,” he says in an eerily calm voice, and Miran cannot help but shudder. “I figured that he must’ve accidentally miscalculated the dosage. There was a lot of heroin strewn over the floor.”
“So you think someone at the den might have supplied him with double the amount that you guys were generally given?” Seokjin asks furtively, and his sister nods.
“That’s what I thought when they declared an overdose of heroin to be the cause of death. I figured that he might have asked someone to provide him with more, and that in his addled state, Joonhyung may have been negligent of the amount he ingested,” Miran explains. “We visited the den once a week for miniscule packets of the drug; none of us were particularly addicted. But it was different with Joonhyung.”
Namjoon sighs. The sunlight suffuses Yoongi’s apartment in a soft light, the parted curtains swishing against the rug as a slight breeze shuffles in through the open windows. “And now you think that these murders may have something to do with Joonhyung’s death.”
“You mean like someone trying to avenge him by eliminating everyone who could’ve had the opportunity to supply him with the extra drugs,” Inha clarifies in a tight voice, her eyes gleaming thoughtfully. “But if this is indeed the reason, we first need to find out which one of the five was it.”
All eyes flit towards Miran, and she raises her palms. “Look, guys, I know it’s hard for all of you to believe any of this, but I swear to god, I was trying to help him. I didn’t give Joonhyung the extra heroin.” She feels fingers intertwining with hers again, and to her utmost shock, Yoongi smiles at her softly. Miran cannot detect any judgement in his eyes.
“I believe you.”
The words are simple, but the truth in them is profound. There is a determined glint in Yoongi’s irises which suggests that he does indeed have faith in her. Why?
