He stared at her so intensely—without blinking even once—that his unmoving eyelids felt sharp, almost terrifying.

Seoryeong instinctively gripped the baton at her waist. It was clear he’d mistaken her for someone else.

“Sir, please stop right there. Don’t come any closer.”

“...”

The man continued to stare at her face piece by piece. From her hair to her eyes, from her eyes to her nose, from her nose to her lips, down along the line of her jaw and neck.

He let nothing pass—lingering obsessively over every detail before dragging his gaze downward again. There was an incomprehensible desperation in his eyes.

Mid-to-late twenties, perhaps? He looked about her age, but the way he barely exhaled—his eerie calm—set him apart.

And every time his fingers brushed over the cross necklace he wore, the pious aura around him deepened. It was a vibe completely absent from the teammates she'd once rolled through the mud with.

And yet, here he was, doing that in the women’s bathroom. Whether he was corrupted, fallen, or just a scam artist in disguise, she couldn’t let her guard down. Her voice was rigid as she warned him again.

“There’s a Ministry of Trade and Industry event going on right now. You're causing a disturbance. Please leave quietly—and wash your hands in the men's room.”

Even with such polite instruction, he didn’t budge. Instead, a flicker of light crossed the darkness in his eyes.

The man ignored her warning and stepped closer. When he swept his not-so-short hair back, his full forehead came into view—his face, surprisingly handsome.

“Say ‘Eee—’ for me.” 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

He spread his lips and said “Eee—” aloud, showing off his bright, perfectly aligned teeth.

They were so flawless it almost felt unnatural. And yet they weren’t gold-capped or artificial... Something about them just felt off.

“I just wanna count your teeth.”

Seoryeong realized words wouldn’t work. She had no choice but to draw her baton from her belt.

As he continued to close the distance, she pushed the baton squarely into his chest. His dull-eyed stare looked almost amused.

“Don’t like that? Then what’s your name?”

His Korean sounded superficially fluent, but the casual tone was awkward, unnatural. With his shaggy hair and sloppy speech, he looked like something unfinished.

“You’ve lived in Korea all this time? Don’t speak any Russian?”

Then from the stall behind came a voice—“I guess they all use the same pickup lines...”—followed by laughter. Clothes rustled as the woman inside finally started putting herself back together—stockings pulled up, fabric brushing.

The man’s long, slanted eyes shifted slowly to glance behind him. For a brief moment, his gaze sharpened—but when he turned back to Seoryeong, he lowered his lids as if nothing had happened.

His long lashes cast dreamy shadows. The uncanny dissonance in his expression made Seoryeong furrow her brow.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll have no choice but to drag you out myself.”

“You? Drag me?”

He now examined her from head to toe—shoulders, arms, waist, legs—as if measuring her.

“You that strong?”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the priest dropped into a squat. Without warning, he shoved his hand up under his pant leg.

The instant his foreign warmth gripped her shin, Seoryeong didn’t hesitate—she kicked his shoulder.

The man staggered as if about to fall on his ass—then, gracefully, found his center again and looked up at her.

“Ah—”

A hard, clipped sigh escaped him. His expression grew taut as he stared intently at his own hand.

Is this guy seriously a pervert? Seoryeong had no choice now—she pressed her in-ear communicator.

“Senior, this is Section 2-B. There’s a pervert in the women’s restroom who won’t come out.”

—What?

“He’s not showing any signs of leaving on his own. Can I remove him?”

—...

“He’s dressed like a priest, though.”

She tapped the now-quiet radio a couple more times before continuing.

“There’s no rule that says we can’t lay hands on clergy, right?”

—...Well, technically, no.

Even with her supervisor's unmotivated reply, Seoryeong tightened her grip on the baton.

“Then I’ll subdue him and report afterward.”

Right then, the man—face now expressionless—reached for her again. Without holding back, Seoryeong struck his hand hard. She followed it up with a kick to the chest, trying to knock him over—

But shockingly, he sprang up, twisted her arm, and slammed her against the wall. At the same time, he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. Strands tore free with a sound like ripping paper. It all happened in a blink.

“Ugh...!”

She clenched her teeth against the burning pain in her scalp. But before she could act, the man suddenly backed off. Holding the torn hair in his fist, he raised both hands in surrender. His attitude was like someone who had nothing more to do here.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Seoryeong reached for her gear belt, unbuckling it tightly as she demanded an answer.

“I told you—say ‘Eee—.’”

“....”

“Eee.”

The man laughed, fondling and releasing his crucifix necklace. One of his canines, sharply pointed, glinted among the even row of teeth.

But unlike someone whose smile might have once brought warmth, this priest’s grin was... chilling.

“Throw that away.”

Seoryeong pointed at the clump of hair in his hand, disgusted. She batted at his wrist with the baton—only for him to suddenly close the distance and lean in, obliterating all the space she’d created.

His red tongue dragged across her cheek in a long, wet lick.

“――!”

Seoryeong immediately struck him in the neck and gut, but the more she hit him, the more flushed his face became. A strange, glittering brilliance lit up his once-sunken eyes.

“Я люблю трахаться с такой женщиной, как ты.”

“...!”

I love fucking women like you.

His sudden /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ Russian made her scowl.

She’d been forced to learn the language in high school—told by her coach that only the top few would be selected for special training in Moscow. While her classmates had struggled, Seoryeong had quickly mastered the Cyrillic alphabet and reading.

The man kept eyeing her—her black hair, sharply angled eyes, and especially her lower legs beneath the pants.

Finally, he turned away.

The bathroom fell silent again.

“...Haah. Seriously, what the hell...”

She couldn’t decide whether to chase after him or let him go. Just then, the woman from the stall emerged.

“There’s a charity event for relief organizations going on in the other wing, not just the MOU. That’s why it’s crawling with clergy.”

Adjusting her hair in the mirror, the woman added casually,

“They say that guy’s from the Russian Orthodox Church. No point getting in trouble for touching him. He’s just a guy who slacked off with me and decided to fuck. Other than the weird fetish, he wasn’t really that strange.”

Sure, he’d done something obscene in a public space, but it hadn’t posed a major security threat. Still, something felt off inside her.

Seoryeong went to the sink and splashed her face.

It wasn’t just the filth or the disgust—something deeper. Her chest felt restless, and his face... she couldn’t seem to forget it.

“Throughout the whole thing, he never took his hands off my shin. Didn’t lick or bite—just kept pressing down on the bone. Tell me that’s not weird?”

The woman in the mirror had black hair and black eyes. Standing side by side, Seoryeong couldn’t help but notice—those large eyes looked strangely similar to her own.

***

“Father, forgive this sinful one... I send his worthless life to You through pain. Embrace his despair and fear... Let him know the kindness You work through me...”

The young man in priest’s robes muttered quietly, clasping an old man’s wrinkled hands. His grip was so firm, the man’s hand had gone purplish from lack of blood.

The man on the bed, drugged with zolpidem, was already unconscious. The priest wiped away a dry tear with his fingertip.

Then he opened the crucifix hanging from his neck like a pen—revealing a sharp injection needle.

“Father... today I saw another woman who looked like Sonya...”

He drove the potassium chloride needle into the man’s neck and continued murmuring.

“My Pair who vanished... That Pair, Father...”

As the injection emptied, the man’s eyes snapped open. He let out a strangled, choking sound. The young priest gazed directly into those terrified eyes as he went on, voice soft and mournful.

“She disappeared without a trace. Left me all alone. Gone without a single clue... She was everything to me. I only had Sonya...”

He gripped the syringe harder. Veins bulged along his wrist. The man’s breath, already faltering, slowed even more—his pupils froze.

But still, the priest’s prayer didn’t stop.

“Fucking hell, Father. I’ll find her, though.”

Tears welled in his eyes. He reassembled the crucifix, then kissed it long and hard.

“I’ll tear the whole world apart if I have to—but I’ll find her.”

Reflected in the hotel window, glowing with the night cityscape, were the bodies of several dead security agents.

The priest stood without a sound, work complete. He closed his eyes, thinking of the strand of hair he’d pulled hours earlier.

Please... this time...

It was a night steeped in sin.