Kim Taemin’s brow twitched, the only sign of his reaction, as if struggling to comprehend the words. His smooth, expressionless eyes barely moved.

“Under Jin Hoje’s command...?”

Lee Wooshin, his brows furrowed, looked as though he’d bitten into something rotten. Without another word, he disassembled the gun, separating the barrel and chamber with swift, practiced movements, as though dismissing the conversation altogether.

A sigh, steeped in bitterness, escaped his lips.

“Owls hooting at night can drive a person mad.”

On days when the sunlight was gentle, Wooshin had once held her in his arms and fallen asleep on the sofa. He hated that comfort.

Sitting sweetly like a sparrow, eating breakfast together, strolling through the neighborhood, laughing — that mundane normalcy made his skin crawl.

But what was this thirst? This rising tide of emotion? Every time he saw her chasing Kim Hyeon with such blind obsession, it twisted his insides.

Trusting people too much, giving them all of your heart, only leads to being dismantled and betrayed. People are irretrievable, untouchable things — they’re only meant to be used as per their purpose and intention.

But each time he saw that owl moving against his own beliefs, a shiver, like bristling down, crept over him.

Why can’t you forget your husband’s warmth? Why are you so fixated on it?

Wooshin stepped out from behind the partition, passing by Kim Taemin without a glance.

‘—If you’re not going to bring my husband to me, then stay out of it.’

A voice suddenly echoed in his ears, halting his steps. It felt as though he’d fallen into a devilish trap, but it was now time to choose a direction, one way or another.

His legs, which had paused, resumed their slow ascent up the stairs.

***

The training session — a brutal interrogation simulation intended to induce high casualties — had finally concluded. The recruits were now entering the recovery phase.

Having reached the midpoint of the training program, they were allowed to reclaim their confiscated phones for the first time. During the recovery week, they were permitted to make calls during designated times, wear comfortable shoes, and attend lectures throughout the afternoons.

The lectures primarily focused on domestic security operations and tactical guidelines for overseas deployments.

Particularly, South Korean enterprises operating abroad faced numerous terrorist threats. When crossing the South China Sea, they had to contend with pirates; at construction sites, they often clashed with armed groups.

On the surface, most of Blast Corp’s operations consisted of providing security in such volatile regions, so the recruits received in-depth education on handling terrorist organizations.

Every time such lessons were delivered, Seoryeong concealed her expressions and listened intently.

Of course, what she was actually focusing on were the specifics of how to orchestrate a hostage situation. She filtered the instructor’s teachings through her own twisted reinterpretation.

How did they capture them? How did they succeed? Beneath her pretty face, ruthless calculations ran wild.

“Hey, the instructor’s coming...!”

The instructor in charge of the lecture was an older man, and his classes were always unbearably dull.

Even when the recruit next to her nudged her with his elbow, Seoryeong merely propped her chin on her hand, expression blank and unimpressed.

After the interrogation ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ training, she hadn’t seen Lee Wooshin, neither formally nor informally. Whether it was during the morning run, the lunch hook exercise, or the physical assessments, he was nowhere to be found.

Flipping through the training booklet she’d been handed, Seoryeong’s brows occasionally knitted together.

The soreness between her legs had subsided, but something heavy and lodged remained within her chest. That dismal feeling had persisted ever since the end of the training. Whenever it crept up on her, she’d tilt her head slightly, failing to pinpoint what exactly it was.

After the brutal incident in Thailand, Director Kang Taegon had once asked her if she was experiencing any symptoms of PTSD. Could it really be that just a little torture training had triggered such a reaction in her?

Seoryeong’s frown deepened as she struggled to decipher this foreign sensation.

The lecture hall door slid open with a grating sound. A tall man strode in. The previously noisy room fell silent in an instant, and Seoryeong lifted her chin from her hand.

“......!”

Lee Wooshin stepped inside, rubbing the corner of one eye.

Exuding exhaustion, he dragged his boots lethargically across the floor, his body heavy and slouched, as though sleepwalking.

He stopped at the front, slinging one arm lazily over the edge of the podium. His eyes drifted across the faces of the recruits with a dull, uninterested gaze. Each time he leaned against the podium, the base creaked, as if it would topple over any second.

Eventually, his mouth opened, and his drawl spilled out.

“If you make it through training successfully, some of you will be deployed to isolated, high-risk nations.”

But he didn’t so much as glance in Seoryeong’s direction. That deliberate disregard struck like flint, sparking a flame inside her chest.

He was the one who’d shoved his fingers into someone else’s hole, so why was she the one being treated like she’d committed a crime?

Was this really PTSD? Even as she narrowed her eyes, glaring at his pale, indifferent face, Wooshin remained completely unfazed.

“When a severely weakened country meets corruption... And when precious natural resources get entangled with unpredictable armed factions... That’s when mercenaries thrive.”

“......”

“Aren’t you happy? I’m talking about you guys right now.”

Wooshin’s lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile, and the recruits straightened in their seats.

“You’re rolling in the dirt here to earn that kind of money. As long as the price is right, Blast Corp will keep sending you out, and you’ll keep marching forward like good little soldiers.”

Crossing his arms over his tight training shirt, his muscles bulged, straining against the fabric.

“Before you get all excited about the money, remember this: You can go to hell doing bad things, and the company won’t take responsibility.”

“......”

“Abandon your neighbor. That’s the first commandment in this line of work. There’s no responsibility, no salvation here.”

Wooshin’s voice was cold, his gaze scanning the room. Some recruits stiffened; others bit their lips.

At that moment, Seoryeong, who had been idly doodling in her notebook, spoke up.

“If hell’s the only place I can meet God, then I guess I’ll go. And if I’m going to go anyway, might as well take the fastest route and go with a smile.”

Wooshin’s gaze finally shifted in her direction. Their eyes met, and a crackling, electric tension shot through the air.

He didn’t blink, staring her down as if time had stopped.

“.......”

“.......”

Maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding her, Seoryeong thought, clicking her tongue in frustration. Looking at him now, it felt as though she’d been locked back inside that dark, humid room where everything had happened.

Shifting uncomfortably, she crossed her legs and straightened her posture. A strange, prickling itch crawled beneath her skin.

Why does that place... itch? What kind of PTSD is this?

Every time her mind urged her to forget, the contrast between her tender, affectionate sex with her husband and the brutal, forced orgasm inflicted by her instructor only became more vivid. The pain had faded, but the memory kept growing.

“God, huh―”

Wooshin’s voice cut through the tension, his tone a low drawl.

“Private Han Seoryeong has a curious way of saying she wants to die quickly.”

“......”

“Do you think you’ll eventually meet them if you keep sitting there at the gates of hell?”

His gaze narrowed slightly, his eyes fixed on her with a blade concealed within their depths. There was a slimy, ulterior motive glinting in his expression, and Seoryeong’s wariness flared in response.

“How do you expect to recognize someone at a glance when you don’t even know what they really look like?”

“......!”

“All those faces — they’re all ones drawn for you by others, aren’t they?”

The instructor was undoubtedly talking about some random god or deity. Yet, Seoryeong’s heart plummeted as if he had just struck a nerve.

The man, who had been continuing their subtle, tense staring contest, finally turned away as if it were nothing and switched on the projector.

Looking back, his transitions between actions and words were always abrupt, and Seoryeong was always a step behind in catching on. It had been like this from the very first time he’d cut her off.

Seoryeong clenched the pen she was holding. Still as insufferable as ever...

A moment ago, her facial muscles had been stiffening from his indifference. Now, the so-called PTSD-like symptoms seemed to have miraculously subsided. It was bizarre.

“The countries in Asia that Blast Corp has contracts with are Taiwan, Nepal, Cambodia, Myanmar...”

He continued his explanation while pointing to various photos. Though his expression occasionally creased inexplicably, his voice remained consistently slow and detached.

As she kept her eyes fixed on him without moving, her eyelids gradually grew heavier. There was something about his flat, monotonous tone that made drowsiness creep up on her.

I was never meant to sit at a desk like this... Seoryeong forced her eyelids open, fighting off the drowsiness that pressed down on her.

Listening to his words made the world feel surreal. On the other side of the globe, in Nigeria, an entire girls’ boarding school had been abducted by a cult group. In Sudan, warlords had recently clashed, bringing out tanks and fighter jets to wage their private war.

The list of red-wanted criminals and terrorist organizations was as thick as a book. Seoryeong found herself feeling strangely numbed as she listened to all those stories.

They say Black Operatives are the best of the best... Then where is Kim Hyeon right now?

You must still be out there, serving and sacrificing yourself for the nation. Marrying a woman you didn’t even love and pretending to care for her, enough to make her believe it was real love, even for a brief moment. You were always so kind and sincere. That core of you probably hasn’t changed. Her head felt as if it were floating in a fog.

But out there, where you are, it’s so dangerous...

Then wouldn’t it have been better for Kim Hyeon to stay with me and suffer a little, instead of being out there?

At some point, the instructor’s voice had completely faded away, and Seoryeong’s heavy head finally started to nod.

And just as her eyes fully closed, bang—! The desk shook violently.