"I usually check the account balances of all my subordinates," said Lee Wooshin, his tone casual. "That’s why I already know about Recruit Han Seoryeong’s attempt to defect to the North."

"......!"

"You said you wanted to work under me."

Then you should’ve confessed the moment I asked. He lifted one eyebrow at an arrogant slant.

This dirty bastard...!

Seoryeong burst into a coughing fit and shouted,

"I hid a lot, yeah! My personality, almost everything...!"

What was the point of yelling at him? In the end, she was still this pathetic. As she finally admitted it, Lee Wooshin generously turned the water on a little more.

Drip, drip, drip... Seoryeong [N O V E L I G H T] felt like the heat rising in her forehead was about to burst a blood vessel. But even that trickle of warm water was precious, so she dragged out more of her insides, unwillingly.

"...My husband was sweet and kind. I was scared that if I showed him my real self, he’d run away. I mean, I’ve shot people dead and never had a nightmare about it. If he knew what kind of woman I really was, he would’ve left a long time ago."

"......."

"So, I wanted to be the perfect wife."

At the same time, hot water came pouring down again like a waterfall.

Lee Wooshin stared at her with an unreadable expression, while Seoryeong fluttered her lashes rapidly without a word.

The words had spilled out thoughtlessly, but they weighed heavier and sounded more pathetic than she'd expected. Even she was startled by herself.

Then, Lee Wooshin took a step back and spoke, almost like sighing.

"That husband of yours was probably the same."

"......."

It was a vague statement, but Seoryeong understood immediately. Maybe he had to lie about himself too—that seemingly perfect man probably wasn't showing his true self either.

Still, she didn’t want to accept that easily. She had faked her personality because she wanted to be loved. Kim Hyeon had acted to deceive her.

Even if it was the same action—a lie—the reasons behind it were completely different.

Seoryeong roughly splashed her face again. Surely, it had been love. But as time passed, she realized that all those beautiful memories were just cheap, glittery shells. Her throat tightened painfully.

"Instructor, promise me something. You won’t tell anyone what I said."

Seoryeong forced her lips to move unnaturally as she widened her eyes.

"I mean, in case you ever catch my husband. You can’t acknowledge anything—you have to lie along with me. Say I’m sweet, timid, gentle."

She stepped out from under the torrent of water and took a step closer, almost like issuing a threat. The black pupils in his eyes—probably fake lenses—seemed to waver minutely.

"Don’t even hint at anything like guns, knives, or this kind of training."

"Why should I?"

"Because you were the one who pried first. Now you have to take responsibility."

"Strange. Didn’t you say you were going to get revenge if you caught him?"

Lee Wooshin furrowed his brow like he was looking at a mismatched puzzle, and Seoryeong nodded.

"Yeah. But I’m going to have sex too."

"......!"

At her low, unhurried voice, Lee Wooshin’s eye twitched. Seoryeong casually wiped the water dripping from her hairline to her jaw with the back of her hand. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"If possible, it’s better if the woman sitting on top feels familiar. I don’t want him to think he’s being raped."

"......."

The man visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. Judging by the tremor between his brows, it was like he’d been smacked in the back of the head—but Seoryeong didn’t care.

Even if Kim Hyeon ended up dead, she wanted him to die in her arms. She only wanted him, nothing else. In whatever form, she had to get him back—so she could punish him properly.

Because she hadn’t given up on Kim Hyeon, sex and revenge were, in a way, the same thing.

Seoryeong stepped back under the showerhead, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"So if something goes wrong—you’re not getting away either, Instructor."

She yanked the showerhead out and blasted him directly with it.

"――!"

Caught off-guard, Lee Wooshin winced and glared at her. Only then did Seoryeong’s mouth curl up in satisfaction.

One of his contact lenses had washed out, revealing a gray iris underneath.

The man blinked his wet eyelashes and quickly covered his exposed eye with the palm of his hand. At his unguarded reaction, Seoryeong laughed a little more, just for the hell of it.

"See? I’m good at being bad too."

***

First week of Blast training: completed.

After that horrific first night, the trainees gradually adapted to the endlessly repeating schedule.

Mornings were spent doing calisthenics and running; afternoons were focused on swimming and basic physical conditioning.

Lee Wooshin’s warning on the first day—that no "incidents" would happen inside the barracks—had proven completely true.

Every night, they were ambushed and forced into the sea, leaving them with no energy to bully anyone else. The recruits suffered from chronic sleep deprivation and struggled just to keep themselves alive.

The problem was, the so-called "physical conditioning" was blatant harassment. Starting with chin-ups, nicknamed "lunch hooks," Lee Wooshin’s petty torment began.

Beep—beep—

One whistle to pull up, one whistle to lower, hanging from the bar.

Miss a whistle, lose your lunch.

The instructors deliberately slowed down or sped up their whistles, manipulating the pace to knock trainees out early.

But the pull-up bar was familiar ground for Seoryeong—especially hanging. It had once been one of her best skills.

"――!"

So when her turn came, Seoryeong naturally gripped the bar and lightly sprang up, pulling herself easily. The other trainees looked visibly stunned. The instructors, too.

After that, every time it was her turn, Lee Wooshin would personally step in.

He always appeared with a swirling, unsettling smile—and it never boded well.

He wasn’t going to make this easy. That was obvious.

And of course, it was true.

Today again, when he walked out smirking, Seoryeong could only grind her teeth in fury. Ever since Lee Wooshin had started blowing the whistle himself, she hadn’t gotten to eat lunch even once.

Beep— The whistle blew.

As Seoryeong jumped to the bar on cue, Lee Wooshin leisurely watched her grip tighten around it, deliberately dragging out the time.

"Recruit Han Seoryeong, you like singing?"

What the hell is he planning now? Seoryeong glared at him as he smiled like a damn dandelion seed had brushed his face.

"If you sing, maybe the instructor will feel good enough to blow the whistle."

Imagining punching him square in the solar plexus, Seoryeong opened her mouth, coldly.

"On this beautiful... fertile land... our glorious shithole instructor took root... and, by the will of Hongik Ingan, decided to fuck everything up... and from generation to generation, only shitty instructors will be born... Am I supposed to keep going?"

Her words spilled out, her breath ragged between lines.

Snickers broke out around the training ground. But only Seoryeong, singing with raw hatred in her eyes, and Lee Wooshin, enjoying that venomous gaze, were locked in a strange battle of wills.

Beep—beep— The slow whistle continued.

The iron bar crushed her soft palms, and blisters formed. Her arms visibly trembled now.

Yet every time she stubbornly matched the whistle's timing, Lee Wooshin raised his eyebrows like he was genuinely surprised.

"Ugh—!"

Finally, as she barely managed to chin the bar, Seoryeong’s body gave out and she dropped heavily to the ground.

Ah...!

Gasping for breath, she kicked the base of the pull-up bar in frustration. It burned, being forced into a position where she kept losing to him.

...So much for today's lunch.

As she massaged her stiff forearms and slumped onto the ground—

Lee Wooshin was staring at her with a strangely grim face. Then he dragged his boots over, crouched down, and met her eye level.

The backlighting deepened the shadows on his already hollow features.

"Are you on medication?"

"Huh?"

"Like androgen steroids."

"What the...!"

"You know, Recruit Han Seoryeong—you had a marijuana scandal once."

Seoryeong stared at him, lips parting in disbelief.

"You can be honest. Half these assholes have taken more injections than thrown punches."

His voice, rough and edged with suspicion, sank lower. His gaze clung to her so persistently, it felt like he could memorize the shape of her irises.

Not that it mattered—thanks to his fake lenses, all Seoryeong could see was the falseness staring back at her like a magnifying glass.