The instructor whose breathing had never once hitched even after running laps through the highlands was breathing hard.

His steady gaze slammed down onto the photo on the ground. A face twisted so badly you couldn’t tell if ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) it was anger or sorrow went blank in an instant, as if washed clean.

When he picked up the photo that remained, the wet part tore straight through beyond repair. The trainees squeezed their eyes shut.

A face ruined by bled-out colors, material gone limp with damp. Over and over he ran his eyes across the ragged photo, his complexion drained of blood. His Adam’s apple jerked up and down, rough.

“......”

Under that quiet yet baleful stare, the trainees felt pins and needles in their feet. Staring into empty air with unfocused eyes, the instructor then gently tucked the half with his wife into his pocket.

A-are we... just getting a warning and that’s it? The trainees traded looks. Before Ral could come to, a heavy combat-boot kick flew again.

“—!”

Ral felt blood burst under his nostrils as he crumpled. The instructor’s face was so controlled that even with fist after fist driving in and rattling his skull, Ral still wore a dumbfounded look.

Thud, thud—punches thrown with full weight made his cheeks feel like fireballs. His head was stomped into the floor, his ear split. He couldn’t even scream.

In the tent, aside from the sound of flesh being mashed, there wasn’t a single breath. The trainees only stared, frozen, at the one-sided beating.

“Uh—ghk...!”

Ral gagged, spitting thick blood. As he tried to crawl along the ground to escape, Wooshin flipped him over and drew his fist back again. In unison, the trainees turned their heads and trembled.

Straightening up, Lee Wooshin slowly unfastened his field watch. Even with a man’s face smashed bloody, the instructor’s cold expression didn’t change a bit.

“My understanding is the training we skipped today was hand-to-hand.”

He rolled his sleeve up calmly as he spoke. His voice was utterly monotone.

“All of you, attention.”

At the short order, the trainees scrambled up and stood at attention.

“Training resumes now.”

The eyes of the panic-stricken trainees shook. Ral, who’d been sprawled out, pushed himself up, trembling all over.

Lee Wooshin grabbed a fistful of Ral’s hair again and dragged him forward. Blood streamed down from Ral’s temple.

“Stand.”

Ral raised his fists, eyes full of hostility. No protective gear, no weapons—only bare hands.

The trainees couldn’t move a step. They had to watch it all. Thud, thud—sharp punches flew, but Ral never landed a single hit on the instructor.

Whenever Ral ducked to slip a punch, his exposed temple—along with the pocket between the left clavicle and shoulder muscle—got tagged clean.

No matter where or how he tried to evade, the instructor found the exposed spot with uncanny precision and struck it. When Ral lunged with his chest thrust out, Wooshin peppered his abdominal aorta with shots.

“—!”

We... have to do that too? The trainees tried to force their stiff tongues to move. Don’t be ridiculous—that’s just getting beaten!

Ral lunged with a shout and reached out—this time his wrist was wrenched. He tried a kick while reeling, and Wooshin swept out the weighted leg and dumped him.

“Study and grasp how the body reacts reflexively. No matter how your opponent moves, there are always parts left exposed to danger. There is always an opening.”

Ral collapsed and couldn’t get up again. He only shut his eyes and wheezed.

“Next trainee.”

Lee Wooshin gestured coldly.

When everyone kept glancing around at each other, he pointed at one. Dragged out, the man raised his fists, face taut.

The instant the sight of the trainee lifting his arms fixed on Wooshin’s retina, his eyes widened like he was startled.

Suddenly time felt two or three times slower. Beyond the forearm shooting out, the opponent’s face changed from instant to instant—becoming Kim Hyun, then becoming Lee Wooshin,

“—”

and becoming the Seoryeong he wanted to see.

Thunk—his head snapped to the side from a clumsy punch. Even so, his body didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe it. Only his stiff eyes fluttered now and then.

A smart flurry that targeted only vital points split his lip. Still he couldn’t counter at all.

He only clenched his teeth and let Seoryeong beat him soundly. Afraid she would vanish in the blink between eyelids, he didn’t even groan—he fixed his eyes like a man possessed.

Kim Hyun clubbed his head; the Lee Wooshin who looked just like him spat on him. When Seoryeong clenched her fist, his knees lost strength.

If she came to him like this to punish him, he had nothing else to wish for. Feeling a heavy ache in his chest, he closed the distance even more. Through swollen lids, he didn’t take his gaze for a second off the blurred figure.

Seoryeong. He panted like a beast and laughed.

“...It’s fine. Hit me more.”

The opponent flinched, then threw another punch. Wooshin still only stood there like a scarecrow and took it.

His clothes hung in disgraceful disarray, blood running from his mouth, and yet he even gave a faint, pleased smile.

It’s fine. Sometimes you egg her on like that, encourage her. He staggered weakly.

Seoryeong grit her teeth again and drew her fist back. Even with a split lip, Wooshin lifted one corner of his mouth in a grin.

Instructor Maxim’s hand-to-hand became famous in no time. With his fickleness—beating some to death, letting others beat him to death—the trainees prayed every morning like they were scratching a lottery ticket.

Only those who endured four bouts of bare-handed fighting to the end could complete training, but Maxim’s unit still hadn’t produced a single graduate.

The already-unreadable instructor had grown even more so lately.

From some day on, he gathered members separately and drilled shooting day and night. At first it was moving targets; later you had to hit birds out of the air.

“This isn’t sniper school. Why is it just us...!”

Complaints burst out everywhere. But with the blade-cold instructor standing before them, the grumbling sank away.

Since the day they’d dared touch his photo and torn it, they were like convicts who didn’t dare open their mouths. It was as if a taut, easily-snapped tension had coiled around his throat.

Training ramped up to an extreme, and finally Asha couldn’t take it anymore and stepped forward. At this rate, if they killed any more birds here, she was afraid she’d go to hell.

“Instructor!”

The instructor—whose face never saw a day uninjured—glanced over. The mark on his greenish cheek was one she’d left. Staring only at that spot made her feel oddly self-conscious.

Asha remembered the way he had stared hard this way every time she thrust out her fists clenched like stones. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

That stark-white face that never slipped back, but leaned in at a perfect angle. Just thinking about it left her flustered, and strangely, her heart thumped; she had to shake the rising flush from her face.

“Tomorrow is the graduation ceremony, but our unit doesn’t have a single person who’s passed...!”

“...We just have to get through today.”

Wooshin murmured it, looking up at the sky. Asha tilted her head, not understanding.

“Sir?”

“I’ll give you the list of graduates tomorrow.”

“Um—!”

She called out to the instructor again as he turned to go.

“After the ceremony... where will you go?”

The upward gaze was cautious, yet oddly bright.

He would go anywhere.

For that to happen, the message in Han Seoryeong’s voice couldn’t line up with reality.

A prank should stay a prank. If a terror warning—deepfake voice or whatever—became true, her voice would inevitably draw the world’s attention. The thought alone froze his heart.

Kiya, this is where you stop.

If you cross the line using Seoryeong’s safety—then the merry-go-round I’ve complied with, I intend to end by my own hand.

“—Instructor? Are you listening to me?”

The urging snapped him back.

“If my wife calls, I’ll go anywhere.”

“...Sorry?”

“If the baby calls, I go too.”

“Y-you... have a baby?”

“Anything else?”

“No...”

Lee Wooshin turned his back without mercy. Tomorrow was the D-day of the threat. The Gurkha training camp’s graduation ceremony.