FADE IN:

INT. DINGY OFFICE- DAY

Han closes the door behind him as he enters the dim lit, dingy office that's assigned to every rookie detective, with the days mail in his hand.

HAN: Here's your mail.

He drops it on Y/n's desk. She rubs her eyes, her legs stretched out and balanced on the very corner of an over-crowded desk.

HAN: You pulled an all-nighter again?

Y/N: Yes.

Han leans against the desk.

HAN: There is no need to. All we get are cold cases, that we have to solve in this cold, boring office. You don't have to stress about this case so much.

He kicks away a can at his feet, absolutely sure that it did not belong to either of them.

Y/N: Someone has to solve the cases.

She hands him a file.

HAN: Six murder victims... Shouldn't we hand it over to our seniors?

Y/N: No.

Han continues to read the file.

HAN: They all have different causes of death. Why have you grouped them together?

Y/N: I'm sure it's a serial killer.

HAN: Because...

Y/N: They all were murdered on the 4th Wednesday of the month and the time of each murder is one hour ahead of the previous one.... the first murder was on 28th April, at 10.15 am. The second was on 26th May, at 11.15 am, so on...

HAN: Murder weapon?

Y/n shakes her head.

HAN: Let's start.

He sits on a chair beside her.

CUT TO:

TIME SKIP: LATE NIGHT:

Han plops on his chair, as Y/n rests her head on the column of files in front of her.

They both whine.

HAN: How in the world are we going to solve this case?!

Y/N: Why is there nothing we can use?

They whine in unison.

HAN: Ah! I can't do this my head is going to explode.

He pushes the file in front of him, but it has no place to slide.

HAN: Ya! Can't you just read your mail? It keeps falling over to my desk.

Y/N: Can you focus? Who cares about mails?

They glare at each other as Han pushes Y/n's mails along with her files, on to her desk. Y/n turns away and goes back to scrolling through the crime scene photographs on her computer screen, aimlessly, almost.

Y/N: Wait...

Han watches as she frantically goes through the photographs of all the crime scenes.

HAN: What?

Y/N: How did we miss this?

HAN: What?

Y/n points to the monitor. All Han sees is 6 different rooms, with nothing in common.

HAN: I don't get it.

She hits him on the shoulder.

HAN: Ya!

Y/N: The mail... Look at their mail.... more importantly look at the mail that is opened.

Han zooms in on the photographs, Y/n's right, each room has a bundle of mail in it and only one of them lies open on top.

HAN: Um... instruction manuals?

Y/N: Exactly!

She smiles at him; Han still doesn't understand.

Y/N: Look, Mr. Kim got the manual for the ceiling fan, he was found with his own ceiling fan skewered through him.

HAN: You're saying that they received instruction manuals of their murder weapons.

Y/N: Exactly.

HAN: Mrs. Lim drowned to death in the-... she got the manual of a fish tank.

They look at each other and fist bump.

CUT TO:

5 DAYS LATER...

INT. HAN'S HOME – NIGHT

Han enters his home watching the news on his phone and shuts the door behind him.

REPORTER: The culprit of the Mail serial murder case, was arrested in a club this evening. Chief Park...

He drops on the couch pleased with himself. He stretches, and notices the mail on his coffee table. He leans forward going through the pile.

HAN: Where's the magazine?

He stops noticing an unfamiliar booklet, he picks it up and freezes.

An instruction manual for a chef's butcher knife. The lights switch off.

CUT TO:

INT. Y/N'S HOME – NIGHT

The phone rings... it's Han...12 missed calls.

She would pick up if she was not lying unresponsive on the floor, an instruction manual for a humidifier clutched in her hand.

FADE OUT.