CHOL-SU GETS out of his car and walks toward Motel Bohemian. The heavy, humid air still hangs low in the dark of the early morning. He enters the lobby and walks to the end of the hall without stopping. The speaker mounted on the ceiling blares something at him, but he ignores it. At the end of the hall, he pushes what looks like a wall with his foot, and it opens. The room behind it is shabby and sparsely decorated, unlike the ornately designed vestibule outside. A man in his sixties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, is sleeping inside the room. He bolts up and grabs his remote control, yelling, "Who the hell are you?"
Chol-su wrests the remote away from him. Nine 14-inch monitors fill one wall. The man, fumbling, now grabs his wallet. Chol-su slides his ID out of his own wallet and flashes it at the man.
"Give me everything you've recorded since nine P.M. We need it for investigative purposes."
"We don't record anything," the man stammers, looking at Chol-su suspiciously. Chol-su steps into the room with his shoes still on and scans the wires attached to the monitors. He quickly finds several tapes. He silences the man with a glare and examines the tapes.
"You fucking pervert," Chol-su spits.
"I'm going to report you!"
"Do it, you bastard," Chol-su snaps, and sweeps the tapes into his bag. He walks out of the hallway, through the doors, and gets into his car. He tosses the bag onto the passenger seat, the tapes clattering inside. One falls out. He picks it up and puts it back in the bag. He starts the car and steps on the gas.