Lee Wooshin, now free of hesitation, retraced his steps without pause, following the confirmed footprints back the way he came.

Yu Dawit’s eyes widened at the action, which felt not just bold but outright irrational. He looked like he couldn’t be sure if he’d heard correctly.

“Team Leader, what are you—”

“Operative Yu Dawit is an expert in this field. I don’t need to explain it to you. The mine can't be disarmed by any means at the moment, and even if we request rescue from Saint Petersburg, it’ll take over eight hours by air. I don’t have the luxury to wait that long, and I’m more competent than all of you.”

“......!”

“So let’s at least make sure this ends properly.”

“No, I stepped on it. I’ll take responsibility. Please—leave this to me and go help Operative Han Seoryeong...!”

“Right. That was the original plan.”

His low muttering voice was laced with the barely restrained impulse to bolt immediately. But despite the turmoil boiling in his chest, Lee Wooshin took a step in the complete opposite direction.

He pulled Yu Dawit’s torso tightly toward him and began slowly pushing his foot off the mine.

“T-Team Leader!”

“Shh—quiet. My original plan was to sever your leg below the knee and have you press down on it until rescue arrived. But I figured you wouldn’t like that.”

“......!”

“Actually, it’s a method often used by mercenaries in South Africa.”

At the horrifying suggestion, Yu Dawit swallowed hard. His face turned ashen gray, and though he couldn’t bring himself to push Lee Wooshin away, his expression had gone completely rigid.

He had never personally stepped on a mine before, even as a former EOD technician, but his mind—shaped by hundreds of explosives he had touched, detected, and disarmed—was now racing at full tilt.

What were the survival stats for someone who stepped on a mine? Even if they managed to live, they often lost limbs, suffered full-body burns, and endured melted throats for the rest of their lives.

Just then, Gitaemin, still lying prone, shouted from the side.

“In movies they always put the safety pin back in and step off...!”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Once a mine is armed, reinserting the safety pin is impossible.”

Lee Wooshin shook his head firmly. Re-inserting the pin only worked if the mine was unearthed and stabilized beforehand.

But once stepped on, the holes where the firing pin was inserted would already be misaligned, making it physically impossible to block the detonator chamber again. Yu Dawit added:

“And once it’s triggered, the booster can’t be removed either.”

“The cap can’t be opened either.”

The two eliminated the possibilities one by one, quickly and methodically.

Mines are, by design, the most straightforward explosive—triggered the moment they’re stepped on. But the kind that only activates once the pressure is released? That was a clear message from its installer.

A trap to bind the soldier in place and isolate their mind until despair set in.

Their team leader wasn’t ignorant of that intent. And yet Lee Wooshin’s attitude remained disturbingly detached, like testing the hardness of a rock with a bootheel.

This was the same man who would stretch out on a couch, resting his chin on his palm, telling them to handle it themselves in his usual lazy drawl—definitely not someone to throw himself into harm’s way. So what the hell was he thinking...!

At last, when Yu Dawit’s foot was completely freed after being carefully pushed away with matching pressure, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) he let out the breath he’d been holding. But before he could steady his trembling knees, a quiet order dropped on him like a stone.

“Operative Yu. Go find me something that weighs over 10 kilograms. Right now.”

“......!”

He turned his head with a creak to stare, dumbfounded, as Lee Wooshin gave a crooked smirk and teased:

“What, were you really gonna leave me standing here out of sheer ingratitude?”

“N-No, of course not...!”

Flustered, Operative Yu looked around the vast, empty field—nothing but farmland in every direction.

“Here...? You want 10 kilograms?”

“Don’t you feel sorry for the superior officer who stepped on the mine in your place? Aren’t you gonna save my life?”

“But Team Leader...!”

Ah... A man’s nature never really changes, huh. Yu Dawit exchanged a subtle glance with the still-prone Gitaemin and recalled the image of a drill instructor barking orders while shoving trainees around. He also saw through Lee Wooshin’s intent.

Just like he had replaced Yu Dawit’s foot with his own using precisely the same pressure, he now meant to place another object on the mine’s pressure plate.

Given the circumstances, it was the most realistic solution.

But if the object had to weigh 10 kilograms... that was at least three bricks. And in a field with nothing but dirt and crops, where the hell were they supposed to find something like that? It was already dark—it wouldn’t be easy.

“I revise the requirement—20 kilograms.”

“......!”

“You have at most 0.2 seconds to switch from my foot to the replacement. If you’re even slightly late, it explodes. If the weight is off, it explodes. So let’s just call it 20 kilograms.”

Lee Wooshin raised the bar even further. But how were they supposed to find a 20-kilogram object out here?

Yu Dawit pulled out a portable flashlight from his uniform pocket and scanned the area. Gitaemin did the same with his scope, sweeping the field, but found nothing.

Only Lee Wooshin, standing on the mine, stared off into the distance as if this wasn’t even his problem, his gaze fixed blankly on the darkened bell tower.

Fingers laced behind his head, his eyelids hung low—until the distant call of an owl made him snap alert. His face sharpened, and he jerked his chin toward something.

“Bring that.”

“......!”

“And we thought we could pull off something big when we can’t even see what’s under our own noses.”

Their frozen gazes turned in unison to where he was pointing.

“Operative Yu. Can you take responsibility for getting that over here?”

What he pointed at, casually, was a flipped-over truck. Silence descended. Jaws dropped. A mix of groans and gasps broke from the operatives.

“Team Leader... Are you saying we need to upright that thing, drive it over, and crush your foot with it?”

“It didn’t explode while it slid down the slope, so just follow the same path in reverse.”

“Team Leader...!”

“Would it have been better if it was your bones getting crushed instead?”

“......!”

“Repay your debt, Operative Yu. No more talk. Let’s get this done. We’re out of time.”

His tone was icy and firm. From the moment he’d turned around and taken Yu Dawit’s place, this had been the plan.

He knew the team wouldn’t immediately accept something so extreme—especially with so much uncertainty involved. Rather than waste energy on a drawn-out argument, he took on the risk himself and implanted guilt in Yu Dawit instead. From the start, this wasn’t about sacrifice—it was just strategy.

Sometimes, facing how thoroughly he’d trained himself to manipulate others, to lie with such surgical precision, left him with a strange emptiness and nausea. But his life had long become a chain of such moments.

Only Han Seoryeong, hammered into him like a nail, had ever been the exception...

“If we mess up the timing, your foot is going to be pulverized...!”

“Do it anyway.”

He was still staring off into the distance.

“I’ll pull my foot out myself, so get me out of here already.”

“.......”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s mangled—I need it off.”

He looked over at them, taking a deep breath. His bloodshot eyes were cracked with exhaustion and stripped of patience.

Gitaemin quickly contacted HQ and finished the rescue request. Then, using a small flashlight, he memorized every footprint on the ground before carrying Jin Hoje to the trailer.

After that, he and Yu Dawit gritted their jaws so hard it was a wonder their teeth didn’t crack as they worked to right the overturned truck.

Glass rained from broken windows, the roof was dented inward, and it was barely possible to squeeze inside. Yu Dawit finally forced his way into the driver’s seat, tried the ignition—but the truck only shuddered.

Cursing, he pounded the dashboard with a palm slick with sweat and grime. The engine coughed, sputtered, then finally came alive, spewing ashy smoke from the exhaust.

“Whatever you do, don’t drop below 60 kilometers per hour.”

Lee Wooshin shifted slightly, preparing his posture.

“If you don’t hit the mark just right, it’ll explode.”

“Haaah... Yes, sir...”

“Don’t worry. Just aim right for my foot.”

Yu Dawit inhaled deeply and shifted gears. He carefully reversed along the visible crash marks.

As the headlights turned on, illuminating the figure a few meters ahead, Lee Wooshin winced slightly. His face wasn’t afraid—it was filled with dread and anxiety. Yu Dawit stepped on the accelerator.

“Shit... Amen...!”

He’d seen countless field sites—but never anything this insane. If Lee Wooshin moved his foot too early, the mine would explode. If he moved too late, the truck would pulverize it.

Either way, it was a gamble with no safe outcome. The truck roared forward, as if it were going to plow straight into him.

“Uugh―!”

A groan escaped, more like a scream. Please... please...! He fought the urge to clamp his eyes shut and instead forced them wide open. And just as the truck barreled down toward Lee Wooshin—

“――!”

There was a brief crunch as something was crushed under the tire, followed by a flash of fire lighting up his face in the darkness like midday.

KWAANG―!

The explosion ripped through the earth with deafening force, instantly silencing the owl’s cry.