Cough, cough.

Faint coughing filtered through the tail end of the audio file. Footsteps, light and careless, grew distant, and cheerful singing played in the background—She had a husband, had a husband...

The recording cut off cleanly there. Lee Wooshin stared blankly at the now-dark screen. His once-pale face crumpled in utter devastation.

“Fucking hell...”

It was as if a bolt of red lightning had scorched the whites ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) of his eyes. Crimson capillaries spread like firecrackers.

The Deputy Director of the NIS having a candid conversation with the Russian boogeyman about an operation as classified as “Bird Box”—

This was a recording revealing Seolheon’s true intentions, which even he, the operation’s lead, had never been told.

The tendons in his hand bulged as he gripped the phone like he might crush it. Was there any chance he’d misheard it? Was the file possibly fabricated—even by one percent?

The first possibility he considered was blackmail.

But what could possibly be used to threaten someone like her—the youngest Deputy Director in NIS history, a figure of legendary ambition?

Unless she had some catastrophic vulnerability capable of destroying her...

His thoughts abruptly cut off.

“――.”

Before the Special Security Team was deployed to Sakhalin—

How had Ju Seolheon been acting? She’d been excited. Defensive. Hesitant.

He already knew she had curated and edited even basic intel on the Owl to her liking.

You’d have to be fucking insane.

And then there was Kiya, still baring his teeth with performative bravado. The absurdity of it made Wooshin let out a dry laugh. As he bit down hard to suppress a curse, his phone buzzed again. But once more—it wasn’t the one he wanted.

—Team Leader... I heard you were injured. Are you all right? Would it be okay if I visited? I promise I won’t get within ten meters...

The moment he picked up, a trembling voice greeted him. Wooshin massaged the back of his stiff neck and closed his eyes quietly.

“Forget that, Wanchang. Did you finish digging through what I handed over?”

—Ah, yes...! The connection between the NIS Director and CEO Kang Taegon—it’s confirmed. A few board members underneath them too. Thanks to the poison tap you installed, we pulled a mountain of evidence.

“You did well.”

—Then... are you really quitting for good, Team Leader?

“.......”

—If the resignation goes through, where are you planning to go?

“I was planning to start a new life.”

A faint laugh escaped him. Couldn’t seem to shake this innate tendency to scheme under a mask.

Lee Wooshin twisted his lips and rolled his bandaged foot in a slow arc. The pain seared like molten metal, but he bit down and endured. Then, bracing himself, he placed both feet on the floor and stood straight.

His brow twitched with pain for a moment, but whatever had been lingering in his waxen face drained away completely.

“Dig up what Deputy Director Ju Seolheon did during her days in the ANSP.”

—...Sorry?

“See if there’s any trace of her traveling to Russia.”

There was a scuffling sound on the other end, as if the other person were scrambling to react.

—W-Wait, Team Leader...! Why are you suddenly targeting the Deputy Director—

“Ju Seolheon once mentioned—”

There was an agent who had gone missing after infiltrating Winter Castle. An agent who vanished without a trace after recording the final day there.

Ju claimed she’d only heard about it through rumors. Said she didn’t know the name, the gender—nothing.

Suddenly, Wooshin’s expression turned ice-cold.

“She might’ve been a field agent in the past.”

His eyes, now frosted over, stared out the window.

***

A week passed more quickly—and more quietly—than expected.

After the string of calls that had nearly set her phone on fire stopped cold, time moved strangely fast. Every ring tone had made her feel like she was about to get scolded, but now that everything had gone quiet, it left a different kind of unease.

Seoryeong had begun packing for the Equatorial Guinea mission without telling anyone. The itinerary called for a rendezvous at a French port, followed by a journey down the Atlantic coast to the destination—at least several weeks in total.

And just before she left her home for good, a sudden impulse struck: to open her husband’s room again, after so long.

But as she placed the old key in the doorknob, the memory of slamming her back against that very door—fucking Lee Wooshin in that same space—tripped her like a hook around the ankle.

Her shoulder blades had struck the door hard while something thick and hot pounded into her from below, again and again.

The memory came unbidden and flushed her nape a furious red. She pressed her lips together and gripped the doorknob tightly, forcing it to turn.

“――.”

A familiar smell—yet somehow no longer the same.

Clean white cloths now draped some of the furniture like expired produce.

Once, just seeing the room had made her want to scream, cry, smash everything, or hold onto it and never let go. There was a time when she wouldn’t take a single step beyond that threshold. But now, it all felt like a distant dream.

Frozen by the unfamiliar dissonance, Seoryeong finally moved when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

“Yes... Hello?”

—Unni, it’s Channa. I checked—it is a tracker!

At that, Seoryeong looked down at the transparent sticker film on her wrist.

—That plastic you gave me—it’s a real-time tracker tab.

Which meant Kiya had been right: there would only be one chance.

Seoryeong had placed the tracker on herself as a form of preparation—ready to slap it onto someone else at a moment’s notice if needed.

—Please be careful, unni...!

“Thank you.”

When she answered blandly, Channa’s voice suddenly rose in pitch.

—I’m not saying that lightly! You know how the region’s caught up in this whole new Cold War mess—everyone’s swarming in, Chinese or American, trying to grab a piece! And look at Equatorial Guinea—run by a dictator and still licking China’s boots! They can’t even smuggle out their own money anymore...!

“Which is exactly why it’s a perfect time.”

—What?

Seoryeong quietly lifted the corner of her mouth.

The Equatorial Guinea mission had been one she’d wanted to join ever since the Special Security Team began focusing on naval training.

Ever since Team Leader Lee Wooshin explained that the Chinese military—who built the ports for Equatorial Guinea—had to be passed like a gate.

“They’ll fear most a minor incident turning into a diplomatic crisis.”

—.......

“And that goes for our own country too.”

—...Wait, wait—

“Channa, do you know what the most dangerous enemy is at sea?”

At that question, Channa groaned, as if she couldn’t bear to listen.

This unni again... Her voice spread in helpless waves of protest.

Three times. That was the rule.

If she’d failed twice, she was due for a success.

Seoryeong yanked off the white cloth and finally faced Kim Hyeon’s belongings.

“This time... he’ll have no choice but to come for me.”

***

“Agent Han Seoryeong!”

Jin Hoje grinned from ear to ear despite a burn that stretched from his neck to his cheek like flickering flames. At the sound of his booming voice, Seoryeong finally let her tense shoulders drop.

She had rushed to the hospital instead of heading to the airport the moment she heard that Jin Hoje had regained consciousness.

Not even his gruesome injuries could dim his boundless energy. He was already chirping excitedly about starting skin graft procedures as soon as his strength returned.

That bright, optimistic personality—so reminiscent of Kim Hyeon—

Seoryeong couldn’t help but observe him with quiet scrutiny.

“But what’s with the backpack? Are you going somewhere, Agent Han?”

“Ah... I’m just doing some cleaning at home.”

It was an awkward excuse by any measure, but no one pointed it out.

As she shared the aftermath of the accident with Jin Hoje, listening to the senior agents bicker over who’d handled things better, Seoryeong eventually slipped out of the hospital room.

Once outside the building, she hastened her steps for no real reason.

She adjusted the bulky backpack slung over her shoulders and crossed the indoor garden—and then her feet came to a sudden stop.

“――.”

It was the first time in a week she’d seen that face.

In the distance, Lee Wooshin sat alone in a wheelchair, fiddling with his phone.

The thick, Styrofoam-like bandages were now much thinner.

He was lazily rolling the chair back and forth with his good foot—like a man chasing someone who owed him money.

Seoryeong stared at him silently, then settled onto a bench tucked safely out of his line of sight.

Thud!

Someone fell hard with a noisy crash beneath the bench.

Startled, Seoryeong glanced down at the man who had clearly tumbled there.

Mid-twenties, maybe? A boyish face peeked out from under a dislodged cap. He was clutching his chest as if in the middle of an asthma attack, his skin pale.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Seoryeong. Then, noticing himself, he quickly hid his phone and turned his head in panic.

A plain cardigan, gray laptop, an unopened sandwich, and banana milk.

His laptop, wide open, displayed a rapid stream of unknown code or programs.

As her eyes drifted toward the black screen, a hand shot out like a harpoon and slammed the lid shut.

When their eyes met, his throat bobbed with an audible gulp.

“Bu... Bung... Ow— No, uh, hi, no—I mean, nice to, I mean—”