"Was that order for me, or for someone else?"

Seoryeong asked with a head gone cold. One moment he told her to stay by his side—now he wanted her gone? She wanted to press him, ask if he even saw her as a fellow operative. But she held her tongue.

Before confronting him, she had to ask herself something first. Why did her heart sink every time she felt his affection? Was she truly seeing Lee Wooshin as only her superior? Even she couldn’t answer that clearly—so what good would picking a fight do now?

Still, she hadn’t wanted to say this. Biting the inside of her cheek, Seoryeong spoke.

"Is it because we slept together?"

"What..."

"Is that why your attitude changed?"

"......"

"Last night was just last night. But I did pass the test. I'm still an operative you picked yourself, Instructor."

She took a step forward. Then another. Until the tips of her shoes met the tips of his.

Their eyes clashed. The silence between them was thick with everything unsaid, but neither opened their mouth. With her eyes narrowed, Seoryeong gave his shoulder a light shove as she walked past.

"Don’t act like some petty man."

"......!"

She slammed the door behind her, leaving a gust of cold air in her wake. Lee Wooshin stood frozen for a moment, then unconsciously bent down to neatly fold the clothes she had tossed aside. Damn that temper... Though his sharp eyes remained cold, a faint smile flickered at the edges.

The man who stared wistfully at the spot she had left behind finally turned around. But his steps as he followed her out were laced with unease.

***

A long wooden table. The operatives, now fully dressed in priest robes, were seated around it.

Yu Dawit, who once attended seminary, wore the garb with quiet dignity that actually suited him. But the bulky Jin Hoje looked like he’d wrapped himself in a curtain by mistake. Gitaemin seemed bothered by the robe’s length, and judging by the stiffness under his armpit, he was probably hiding a gun.

Seoryeong quietly ate, ignoring the man seated directly across from her—Lee Wooshin. It was just pine nut porridge, but even that warmed her stomach a little. As she spooned the food into her mouth, Jin Hoje muttered between big bites of potato salad.

"But does praying actually work?"

"It's a kind of brainwashing."

"Gah...!"

Startled, Jin Hoje flinched as the priest seated himself right next to Seoryeong.

"Brainwashing works better the younger and softer the brain."

A cynical remark, coming from a priest.

"What you learn young lasts a lifetime. It leaves traces—on your head, in your body. Want some of this?"

A steaming, bright-red lobster thunked onto her plate. Whoa... Gitaemin gasped with wide eyes.

In a monastery, this was an absurd luxury. Seoryeong turned her head and looked at Kiya. The priest had haphazardly stuck bandages on his forehead and temples. It looked as sloppy as it felt.

"No, my stomach’s upset."

"It’s fine, you can eat and throw up again. I made it, so eat it."

"I refuse."

"Then at least chew on the shell."

"......."

"The head’s always the tastiest part, you know."

Completely incomprehensible. She had never met someone who made her want to bash their skull in quite like this.

With his chin brazenly propped up on his hand, the priest now began openly studying Seoryeong. As if examining something curious, his gaze trailed from her hair to her forehead, down the bridge of her nose to her nostrils, across her philtrum, and to her lips. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to touch her.

"Well... I mean, she’s been holding a gun since she was a kid, and I practically grew up on the sea... maybe you’re right..."

Jin Hoje stared longingly at the lobster, but Kiya showed no interest in his mumbling. He only looked wounded that Seoryeong hadn’t touched the food.

"What did you do as a kid?"

"――."

There was a twisted kind of hope in his eyes. Her spoon halted in midair.

What did she do? She just... grew up in an orphanage. That thought in mind, her brain began to dull. Her hunger-sparked awareness started to fade, her eyelids drooping.

"I rode the merry-go-round... with my dad..."

"Hmm."

Kiya let out a hum through his nose.

...What? What did I just say? What the hell was that?

Seoryeong felt an odd sense of disconnect between her voice and her mind. Her fingers were going stiff.

"Then shall we go ride the merry-go-round?"

BANG—!

Lee Wooshin suddenly slammed the table. The trays rattled, and the team members’ utensils clattered to the floor.

Startled by the sudden noise, Seoryeong flinched. Her cloudy gaze turned to him—and he began to interrogate her in a chillingly cold tone.

"Operative Han Seoryeong. What’s your husband’s name?"

"What?"

"Get a grip. Your husband’s name."

"......"

"When I count backward from three, you’ll say it. Out loud."

"......"

"Three, two, one."

BANG—! The table shook again.

"The name of the bastard you claimed you couldn’t live without—!"

The sharp articulation pierced through the air like a blade. Like an interrogation officer, Lee Wooshin bore down on her.

His voice was devoid of emotion. His face, rigid. Not a twitch of his features betrayed any feeling. His back stayed straight, only the veins in his neck bulging.

"Snap the fuck out of it—! What is it you swore to hunt down?!"

"Kim Hyeon—!"

The name burst from her lips reflexively. Even in her haze, that name stabbed her straight through the chest.

"Kim Hyeon...! It’s Kim Hyeon..."

With each repetition, light returned to her unfocused eyes. The fog in her head lifted. Seoryeong gasped for breath.

"Yeah. Kim Hyeon. I’m here to find him. I’m here to catch Kim Hyeon..."

"Good. Don’t forget. You haven’t done that yet."

"......"

"Stop staring and finish your food."

After all that shouting, Wooshin returned to his casual tone as if nothing had happened.

What... the hell? Her palms were clammy with sweat. What was that just now? Seoryeong’s breath came shallow and fast. The others were no less stunned, sitting frozen with only their eyes darting around.

Whatever had just passed—it had happened too fast to process. Too fleeting to relive. Her spoon trembled, and the veins on her wrist pulsed visibly.

Ding, ding—

The bell rang, soft and clear. It was time for prayer.

"......"

"......"

Amid the pure chime, the gazes of two men clashed violently.

"Save your breath, old man."

"Maybe stop playing games yourself."

Pffft— Jin Hoje had been sipping water and now wiped his mouth rapidly, having caught on to the territorial posturing since the first meeting.

The cult bastard... he’s trying to flirt with one of our psychos and provoke the other? Jin Hoje scrambled to lighten the mood, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey, uh, Priest... what’s with the kids' toys out front?"

"They’re mine."

"Uh? They look way too young for you..." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Who said I play with them? They’re on display—for my grave."

"Your... grave?"

Kiya’s intense stare hadn’t left Wooshin. But now, he turned to Seoryeong, who still regarded him with caution, and gazed at her cheek as if to peel it open.

Then, slowly, his lips parted. His eyes sparkled again, this time with a different kind of glee.

"They’re from when I played with the monastery kids. The believers were too busy farming to raise them, so they dumped their kids at the monastery. A lot of them were forced to give them up. The Sakhalin branch has always done group care. So we were raised not by parents, but by the cult leader. It’s not like that anymore though."

"But on the way here, I saw lots of rice fields. Why’s that?"

"Poor yield."

"Poor... yield?"

"Yeah. All the kids died."

"......!"

A stunned silence blanketed the table. Not even a scrape of tray against tray. Even Jin Hoje, who had been trying to be friendly, stiffened at the reply. Only Kiya grinned, his cheek twitching with the promise that he could repeat it a hundred times if asked.

"I’m serious. Every last one of them died."

"......"

The emotional shift from morbid to gleeful came so fast it was dizzying. Under the table, Wooshin’s fist clenched tight enough to show his bones as he glared at Kiya.

"Do you know how useful children are?"

He chuckled.

"I’ve stripped naked and acted like an animal in front of crowds before."

"......"

"In Dagestan, they raise kids with baby bears. That’s why so many great fighters come from there. Then they suddenly threw us into a cage with real wild bears. I watched my brothers’ limbs get torn off right in front of me. That was Sakhalin’s first circus show, I think."

She didn’t want to hear this. The trembling Seoryeong had barely quelled returned. She found herself glancing at Wooshin as if grasping for a lifeline. Somehow, just looking at him felt like she could stabilize.

Beneath the table, she stretched her leg out and curled it around his ankle. His inorganic gaze slowly shifted toward her. His jaw looked like it was bracing against pain.

"Ever seen a circus like that?"

Kiya picked up a fork and began twirling it between the fingers of his hand, weaving it between the back of his hand and fingers. Every time it moved, Seoryeong’s eyes couldn’t help but follow. Like she was being hypnotized.

"They told us that if we got strong enough, they’d take us to a beautiful castle."

Her stomach turned again. What is this...? She furrowed her brow.

"I crawled, rolled, even flew through the air with that kid. We did every kind of /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ acrobatics you could think of. My bones broke, my face got caved in—but I survived. We did it all. No one endured as cruelly as we did. Every moment—praying, labor, training—every joy and every sorrow, we were together."

Suddenly, Kiya tossed the fork at Seoryeong. She caught it instinctively on the back of her hand. The fork wobbled a bit, then slowly balanced.

But then—whack!—Wooshin kicked the table leg. The fork dropped to the floor. Kiya grabbed the back of Seoryeong’s chair and yanked her toward him.

"Was it good, being married?"