“This is exactly why I keep telling you—you’re in the way.”

And at last, his true intent became clear. They were having the same conversation again, just like that day in the hospital.

Seoryeong let out a sharp exhale and ground her teeth.

“Seoryeong, just fuck off already.”

He said it through clenched teeth, his voice oppressive.

“Don’t even look at a place like this. Go live a normal life outside.”

Outside this torture room. Outside the training center. Outside Blast Corp. Lee Wooshin only ever seemed to want to get rid of her. That’s why every conversation looped and always returned to square one.

He cupped her breast from underneath and kept sweeping over her nipple. Scratching gently with his nail, drawing circles, then grabbing the stiffened nub and twisting it cruelly.

Ugh... Seoryeong bit her lip hard to keep from making a sound. She didn’t want to give /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ him a single reaction, so she forced her trembling breath back down, her flat stomach heaving deeply.

His hand was burning hot, but the way he scrutinized her reactions—one by one—felt cold enough to chill her spine.

“Just one sentence.”

Then—he released her breast in an instant and said,

“Say you’re done looking for your husband.”

“...!”

“One sentence. Say that, and this torture training ends immediately.”

Something in her gut went cold, like a blade of ice slicing through it.

“That’s... what you want to hear from me?”

“The human mouth is fragile. Forty-eight hours with your instructor is very, very long.”

It was a roundabout reply, but unmistakably a threat. A glimpse of cruelty—he could break her, and he would.

She shut her eyes tight and forced her raging insides to settle.

Lee Wooshin, having pulled his hand out from beneath her shirt, stared at his palm for a moment... then clenched it into a fist.

“You really want to go through all this humiliation for that piece-of-shit husband?”

“...!”

“This is the last time I’m trying to talk to you like a sane person.”

He was offering her a choice. And just like that, she stood at the edge of a dead-end alley.

“Stop now, Han Seoryeong. Don’t take another step past this line.”

His expression as he said it was sunken, like something dragged down into the depths of the sea.

To be honest, everything he’d said—every criticism—was valid. She had come here on a cheap impulse. She was naïve. All she’d ever cared about was Kim Hyeon, and she’d never truly thought through what it meant to be an agent of Blast Corp.

But—even so—if she had to choose...

Instead of answering, she spat in his face.

“――!”

The lightbulb flickered again. A silence fell, one that could never be undone.

“...Unless you’re gonna go bring me my husband, stay the hell out of it.”

He froze, like some piece of furniture that belonged in this grimy, rotten place. Not even his lashes twitched. Seoryeong watched him, instincts flaring to full alert.

Every time the bulb blinked, his face looked different. The shifting shadows on his brow ridge, on the bridge of his nose—warped and eerie. He hadn’t changed expression, but her eyes couldn’t look away. His whole face seemed to change with each flash.

Eventually, Lee Wooshin slowly nodded.

As if to say, I understand perfectly.

Then, his tired-looking eyes curved into a slow, radiant smile. He flicked out his bright red tongue and licked the spit off his lips.

“The instructor’s words don’t even sound like words to you, huh. Right?”

The smile on his face could’ve seduced a ghost. Seoryeong’s skin crawled. A terrible premonition gripped her.

She was right. A bucket of water from the tub came crashing down over her body.

“Huff...!”

Her jaw chattered at the freezing shock. But the man—like someone whose switch had flipped off—calmly reached for her pants buckle.

“What the—! Let go of me!”

She snapped back to alertness. Kicking frantically, twisting her waist, she lashed out with both legs, hitting his hands, his chest, shoulders, belly—everywhere. Her feet flew wild in panic. Lee Wooshin, eyes raised, looked like a furious bull as he moved to restrain her.

“――!”

Smack—! Seoryeong used her own kick’s momentum to swing upward, wrapping her thighs around his shoulders and locking her legs around his neck in a chokehold. She clenched tight, pouring real intent to kill into her groin. His face flushed deep red, ready to explode.

“Nice try, but not enough. You already know that.”

The moment their eyes met—still smiling—she knew instinctively: she’d failed. Rrrrip—close by, she heard the sound of fabric tearing.

“You know exactly what’s going to happen to you.”

“Stop it! Let go!”

“No, no. The one who’s supposed to surrender isn’t the instructor—it’s the captured prisoner.”

Her pants were torn. It was a mistake. The situation flipped in an instant—he now had both hands on her thighs, pinning her in place so she couldn’t escape.

“I told you. Just one sentence. That’s all it takes.”

“...”

“Say it. Then I’ll stop.”

Seoryeong’s pupils trembled violently. He deliberately used a knife to slice the seam around her hips, then pulled the fabric apart with force. Her pants split wide open like a ripped rag.

Her pulse pounded, driven by fear and shame. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

At the same time, her instincts told her: You’re not leaving this place untouched. Whatever kind of violation this was, she wouldn't be exactly the same Han Seoryeong when it was over.

He tore her pants apart with the same mechanical detachment as someone gutting a pig. His forearms flexed for no reason as he worked.

The same mercilessness from when he’d ordered them to abandon Hur Channa lingered in his eyes. Sweat beaded down her back.

“You sick fuck...!”

“Calling the instructor a pervert over this? Come on, that’s just rude.”

“If you’re that desperate to rape someone, go to another room, you fucking bastard!”

“Oh yeah? And you? You gonna let some other fucker do this to you instead?”

“I’d a hundred times rather that!”

The instant she snapped back without flinching, Lee Wooshin stopped moving.

“Who, Jin Hoje?”

“What?”

“That fucker you drooled after last time, when you followed him around?”

“Ah...”

“—Ah?”

He mimicked her gasp in a mocking tone, scowling.

“What, would it have been better if he tore your pants off? Because he looks like your husband? That lame bastard? Picky little prisoner, can’t even settle for this.”

“What? Lame?”

“If what you like is a big hunk of rock, then your eyes are broken.”

“Yeah! I did have broken eyes! And that’s exactly what my husband looked like!”

“...”

“...”

A bitter silence fell between them.

Both of them grimaced. It was like spitting in your own face.

Lee Wooshin clenched his jaw quietly, then yanked the rope to lower Seoryeong. The shift in height was the simplest way to assert dominance. As she was pulled downward, her legs—so desperate to keep choking him—began to fall away, losing strength.

“Don’t go soft over Jin Hoje’s dumbass face.”

“Ugh...! Put me down!”

“There are instructors you can stare at—and instructors you absolutely can’t. Jin Hoje’s the latter. Period.”

He caught her legs, propped them up, and slung them over his shoulders.

“Ugh...!”

She twisted in disgust, but now she really couldn’t move.

Her arms were still tied above her head, and her now-exposed groin was pressed full against him.

Because she was hanging in midair, his firm body was the only thing keeping her upright—but the position was practically the same as penetration.

No—that wasn’t even the problem. The problem was that Lee Wooshin had locked his arms around her thighs, gripping as if he’d never let go.

He lowered his gaze. Quietly. And stared at her exposed underwear.

Seoryeong shrieked like she’d touched a live wire.

“Don’t look—! Get the fuck away!”

Her face burned so hot her eyelids stung. She twisted her hips and shouted, but it only made his grip tighten on her thighs. Then, without warning, Lee Wooshin yanked her underwear down.