Even at the sudden and discourteous intrusion, Lee Wooshin did not waver. He only fixed his frigid gaze on Kiya, who was tearing off his Roman collar, and with a metallic clack, loaded his gun.

In the flashpoint tension, fierce sparks flew between their locked stares. Kiya stripped off the neat cassock that had reached down to his calves and rolled his shoulders until the tight black rashguard training suit stretched taut over him.

Seoryeong’s voice, as she had once confessed—I lived with that Kiya in a cramped house for half a year—suddenly brushed against Wooshin’s ear. He swallowed the swelling emotion until his throat was raw.

Whether to see the man before his eyes as his wife’s brother, as a robber to be torn limb from limb, or as Ju Seolheon’s murderer, he could not decide. But one thing was certain—he wanted nothing more than to punch bullet holes through that stringy body.

Yet there was no time. With every moment urgent, he could not afford to be dragged by pointless emotion—. Clenching his jaw so hard the muscles bulged, Wooshin swung the long barrel.

Kiya, rifling through the corpse of a Gurkha mercenary, evaded with practiced skill, but staggered when the rifle butt smashed into him again. The two latched onto each other like eagles, trading blows evenly. A lip split, and the briny taste of blood filled their mouths.

“Young master, your eyes are shot to hell, so I’ll drive.”

“At the Kremlin, you make up the story yourself.”

Seizing Kiya by the collar, Wooshin muttered darkly.

“Whether it’s mafia storming in with illegal firearms or ISIS back on the rampage, the U.S. must not smell so much as a whiff. If they learn it was Sonia the Americans took, fuck, things only get more complicated.”

“Ah, so it was those Yankee bastards?”

“......”

“Just when it seemed everything had finally been cleared, turns out the bug laid eggs?”

Kill them and kill them, and still they never end. Muttering this, Kiya’s expression was sharply scrutinized by Wooshin. Just how much Kiya knew remained uncertain.

That all of Li Gai’s legacy was inside Sonia’s head—this was the secret of secrets. Ju Seolheon had never recorded such poisonous information in Winter Castle’s documents or anywhere else. She had told it only to Wooshin.

Even Deputy Director Damon had not the faintest clue about the whereabouts of the research data. That was why he had likely tried to use Li Gai’s daughter as a tool of blackmail to flush the files out.

That had been the starting point of Bird Box, and the reason Kim Hyun had been deployed on the mission to protect Owl.

Yet Damon, even after death, persisted in his tenacious attempts to recover Sonia. From her very birth he had interfered and bound her, and Wooshin ground his teeth.

Perhaps it was obsession with a human carrying a first-generation chip, or perhaps it was because Sonia was the only Korean to have survived Winter Castle. Either way, she remained the only lead.

Already, with the war in Ukraine dividing the world into camps, and Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis dragging everyone into the whirlpool of war, the United States had played a hard hand. Recently, for the first time, it had intervened in Yemen’s long-neglected civil war to crush the Houthi rebels.

Amid such turmoil, perhaps the desperation for brainwashing technology—capable of altering the balance without shedding blood—had grown all the more.

But if saving hundreds of millions meant sacrificing one Han Seoryeong... if his wife’s skull had to be split open and used as fertilizer...

Some missions one stakes one’s entire life on, for as long as one lives. Responsibility means that. What Wooshin needed to cast away was not guilt, but that excessive greed of wanting to be loved.

Owl must never be exposed to the world. Ju Seolheon’s voice clung like a whip.

If he truly cared for the girl, he must not lose to the weak Lee Wooshin.

His throat burned as if he had swallowed flames. For Seoryeong’s sake, he could endure any disgust, even clasping hands with the lesser evil.

At that moment, Na Wonchang’s intel flowed into his ear. Wooshin wasted no time and yanked Kiya by the collar. Together they descended the stairs, the wrecked central hall coming into full view.

Expensive ornaments lay shattered and scattered across the floor, as though a firefight had raged. Not a servant remained breathing. Kiya gave a low whistle, impressed.

With each step, damp blood seeped into the soles of their shoes, and spent casings rattled underfoot.

Wooshin inhaled the acrid smell of gunpowder and threw open the main doors. When he pressed the car key, a sports car parked in the garden flashed its headlights. Kiya strode ahead, speaking.

“You put some kind of tracker on Sonia?”

“Biocapsule.”

“Brought something pricey, huh. Where’d you put it?”

Wooshin said nothing, just stared. His gaze, already cold, slipped oddly off-center, faint contempt shining there. Kiya furrowed his brow.

“Your fucking personality...”

He yanked the car keys out of Wooshin’s hand.

“If you’ve got a shred of conscience, cram yourself in the passenger seat.”

“You don’t even know where Seoryeong is, so what the fuck do you think you know?”

“I know Russian roads better.”

“Then go take a fucking joyride yourself.”

Wooshin opened the trunk, pulled out a bulletproof vest, and strapped it on. When Kiya blinked and asked, “Hey, where’s mine?” Wooshin only snorted with disdain, ignoring him. Frost once again slid between them.

“Move the stuff to the front seat.”

Instead, Wooshin jerked his chin at the mountain of guns piled in the trunk, naturally issuing the order. Kiya kicked the sleek body of the car and spat.

Unmoved, Wooshin entered the driver’s seat. Left behind, Kiya reluctantly picked through the pile, selecting a few workable weapons with a sharp eye, and climbed into the passenger side.

Wooshin had already connected the monitor, its red dot blinking. Before Kiya could even close the door, Wooshin slammed the accelerator. The car roared with thunder and shot forward violently. Kiya clutched the handle and shouted.

“You fucking prissy bastard—!”

It was a journey in the company of an enemy, one who could pull the trigger at any moment.

—Team leader, Owl is on the TX-1 train...!

If the train crossing the gorge could not be stopped, there would be no pursuing it further. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Wooshin shifted gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator. It had to be before the train entered the gorge tunnel.

With every savage swerve, Kiya’s body slammed into the interior, Russian curses spewing. Half his face was nearly torn under Wooshin’s murderous glare. Yet he kept checking the blinking red dot, yelling whether this was all Wooshin could do.

“Incompetent fuck, agent my ass! You lost Sonia twice already, that’s your limit. Once we find her, she’ll never be sent back to you, just wait and see!”

Kiya curled his lip. For Wooshin’s reckless flight through unpaved fields, he occasionally leaned out the window, blasting road signs or obstacles away with a slim grenade launcher—boom! Thanks to the lunatic clearing the path, Wooshin never touched the brakes.

“You’re filth like me, just pretending in front of Sonia...! You phony bastard!”

“Who’s filth?”

“Agents all go through the same training. Don’t deny it!”

Wooshin’s brow furrowed. Behind him, flames surged, but his gaze clung solely to the rails.

“You’re a spoiled brat.”

“What did you say?”

“If you want to be a man, grow up first.”

“......!”

Each time the wheels struck stones, the car jolted and lifted long off the ground. Still, Wooshin’s focus never wavered, locked only on the train.

All they had managed was to catch the tail, but already their car was running side by side with the blaring train.

“About Seoryeong’s clothes. Did it never once cross your mind to fasten them for her?”

Kiya abruptly fell silent, fiddling with his gun. An unreadable stillness stretched on.

At last, the train’s engine began to enter the gorge tunnel. Now Wooshin saw nothing else. Flooring the accelerator to its limit, the car broke away from the tracks, and Kiya shouted if he had ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) lost his mind.

“Belt on.”

“What?”

“You’ll bite your tongue. Clamp your molars.”

Each time the long train vanished into the natural tunnel, tension peaked. His mouth went dry; sweat glued his palms to the wheel. Wooshin shifted again, steering over a small rise, and launched straight toward the train’s windows.

The car soared into the air with a fierce roar. In the weightless jolt, he hit the brake.

“Lee Wooshin, you fucking lunatic—!”

The sports car slammed through the train’s glass, crushing empty seats. Screams erupted from passengers blindsided by the crash. White airbags burst, flinging the two men like battered mannequins.

The windshield shattered, the hood crumpled like paper. Yet even so, neither blacked out. Slumped against the airbags, they exchanged glances; Kiya’s eyes spat venomous curses.

“......”

Wooshin shaped his lips into a hiss, reaching for the fallen gun. The train car was eerily silent. Ah, fuck. With his face hard, Wooshin let slip a thin grin. Kiya froze.

The passengers—who had only seemed like passengers—were drawing weapons from beneath their seats and cocking them. The train was swarming with Yankee bastards. The two men jerked their chins and simultaneously unbuckled.