Having vividly witnessed the bizarre things Lee Wooshin had done with her hand before, Seoryeong instinctively flinched the moment their skin made contact.

But all he did was calmly run his fingers over the tips of her nails.

“When I first started this line of work, I hated having dried blood stuck under my nails, so I used to trim them every night.”

The fact that he was suddenly talking about something so personal... Yeah, he probably was drunk.

He slowly stroked the pale-grown edge of her nail and clicked his tongue.

“Planning to claw someone again with these? Hold still.”

He gripped one of her shoulders and pushed her toward the couch.

Was there seriously a type of drunk that involved trimming someone else’s nails?

He always laughed everything off like a mystery, never letting her in. And yet here he was, being oddly gentle.

Maybe because this side of Lee Wooshin was a first for her, she let herself be led without protest.

After sitting her down, he strode toward the living room cabinet—but then paused halfway and turned back toward her with a somewhat awkward look.

“Where’s the nail clipper?”

Seoryeong let out a small laugh and nodded her chin.

“You were headed the right way. Second drawer.”

He moved again.

She watched his back quietly, then murmured:

“I guess all married couples end up living the same way, huh?”

“......”

He said nothing.

Instead, he returned to the couch and gently pulled her hand toward him.

With practiced ease, he slid the cold blade between her fingernail and skin and applied pressure—snip.

With each clip, crescent-shaped nail fragments fell onto his thigh.

His broad back was slightly hunched, almost curled inward, as he carefully trimmed her nails.

The sight reminded her of Kim Hyeon.

She knew full well this kind of thinking meant she was deeply broken—but Seoryeong had always been strangely weak to these small acts of care.

They stirred something inside her—a craving, a sense of loss, an ache she couldn’t quite place.

Unable to endure the discomfort, she shifted her body slightly.

Whenever she spent time near him, this odd, unsettling emotion would creep in.

Especially when someone else started doing things her husband used to do, layering over those memories—it made her feel a sharp, sudden sense of self-betrayal.

Whether he noticed or not, Wooshin suddenly clenched her hand tightly.

Their faces were close—close enough for their breaths to collide, the alcohol on his exhale even stronger now.

And yet his face didn’t flush a bit. His tolerance must’ve been absurdly high.

As he leaned in to concentrate, only his furrowed brow and high nose bridge filled her view.

Then, a low, heavy voice fell upon her.

“How does Agent Han Seoryeong live alone in a place like this?”

“...What do you mean, ‘a place like this’?”

“A place where time’s stopped.”

“......”

Two pairs of slippers. Two cups. Two sets of utensils. A discarded toothbrush she still hadn’t thrown out.

A man’s shoes tucked in the corner of the shoe rack.

And that one door, always locked.

He was talking about the traces of Kim Hyeon still lingering throughout the apartment.

“You could sell this place and move somewhere else.”

“......”

“It’s probably because the house is half-empty, but it’s so quiet I can only hear your breathing.”

“No. This is my home.”

“......”

“This is the only place that’s really mine.”

Snip. He clipped another nail and raised his eyes to look at her.

His gaze was sharp, almost icy, but she met it without flinching, just as stubbornly.

Then Wooshin suddenly lowered his head and rubbed his temple, as if a headache had spiked.

His hair parted enough to reveal his crown—he looked like a wall, immovable and unyielding.

“If I couldn’t see—”

he said, his voice cracking just slightly,

“—maybe it would’ve been easier to love.”

“...What?”

“Your husband.”

“...!”

“But what you two had... was it really love?”

Because his face was buried in shadow, she couldn’t read his expression.

“If you longed for someone without being able to see them... maybe that was just a survival instinct.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

Her ribs clenched like someone had hit her side hard, though nothing had touched her.

“Maybe it looked the same on the surface—but it was actually something completely different.”

“......”

Something jagged lodged in her throat and refused to budge.

Even so, Lee Wooshin just kept trimming her nails like it was the only thing that mattered.

She bit her lip and bore through the sharp, dark pain blooming in her chest.

The tips of her fingers, still touching his, had gone cold.

“Agent Han, you said you wanted to live an ordinary life. That’s why you can’t let go. But do you know what that sounds like to me?”

“...Stop.”

“To me, it sounds like you clung to your husband just to have something normal in your shattered life.

Like calling that self-serving attachment ‘love’ was the only way to soothe your conscience.”

“Stop it...!”

She nearly screamed, voice cracking.

She tried to yank her hand free, but he wouldn’t let go.

In contrast to her agitation, Wooshin remained cold and composed.

His sharp stare burrowed straight into her unraveling core.

“You’ve never considered that your feelings for your husband might be selfish?

If an NIS agent got close, there’s a high chance he deliberately found a crack and widened it.”

“......”

“Why do you trust your own emotions so blindly?”

Snip, snip. The long nails continued to fall away one by one.

“What in this world is trustworthy, anyway? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“......”

“If you get it now, then figure out what that illusion really is.

And throw it away.

That’s how your life gets easier, Agent Han.”

Each word tore into the patchwork she’d stitched over her heart.

She felt anger rise at the way he trampled her inner self—but alongside it came a quiet, overwhelming grief.

The two emotions crashed inside her, impossible to control.

Even now, her nails kept being clipped, one by one.

He was tearing her open—and yet the way his hands moved stayed gentle.

Seoryeong suddenly shook him off with all her strength.

Her half-clipped nails caught and tore jaggedly at the edges.

“...Even if it wasn’t love, I don’t care.”

The words she’d been swallowing burst out.

“Whatever this feeling is—it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am selfish.

I selfishly want only Kim Hyeon.

So all I need is for someone to bring him back in front of me.”

“......!”

Her face burned with fury, tinged with shame—like she’d been stripped naked.

Still, she swallowed all the confusion and kept going.

If anything, his cold logic had snapped her mind into clarity.

“I’m not looking for him because I loved him.

It’s not about missing him, or being sad.

I’m not that noble. So don’t pity me.”

“......”

“I’m going to starve Kim Hyeon.

I’m going to torture him the way you taught me.”

Wooshin, who had been silently listening with a cold face, suddenly dragged a tired hand across his cheek.

“And I’m going to make him tell me everything.

What he did to me.

What the NIS did...!

All the things I still don’t understand—I’ll hear it from his mouth...!”

“......”

“So as his accomplice—you should just do your part.”

Seoryeong’s eyes were fierce, like she was bracing herself against the storm in her own heart.

But cracks had already formed.

The anxiety surged, black and crawling, like ants swarming from within.

She clenched her jaw tighter, refusing to acknowledge it.

Quickly...

Before something turned sour... quickly—

She made a fist.

A half-clipped nail dug deep into her palm.

That pain—sharp and clean—let out a breath of relief.

“Next week, I’ll get to meet the Deputy Director of the NIS.”

She recalled the intel Kang Taegon had handed her.

“He’s scheduled to give a congratulatory address at an academic conference.”

Just then, Wooshin narrowed his eyes, staring straight at her.

Then—without warning—he let out a dry laugh.

In the gaze that met hers was a flicker of disbelief... and a hint of admiration.

“The Deputy Director, huh...” he muttered, raising one corner of his mouth.

“Want me to go catch him for you?”

He gathered the crescent bits of nail from his thigh, looking oddly exhilarated as he asked.

***

Blast Corp was buzzing with chatter from early morning.

From the lobby to the elevator, and all the way into the office, whispers about the dead «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» security guards filled the air like smoke.

Everyone was talking about it, though pretending not to.

To make matters worse, the morning news had just reported the sudden death of the Mongolian Economic Development Director, who’d been staying at a hotel in Seoul—of all places, from a heart attack.

With that timing, conspiracy theories started swirling again, not unlike the last time.

“The more I think about it, the more it gives me the chills.”

Jin Hoje handed Seoryeong a warm cup of tea as he spoke.

“You were at the site too, weren’t you, Agent Han? I’m really glad you made it out unharmed.”

“I only stopped by in the morning. Just did a round through the venue.”

“Still, you never know. For all we know, you might’ve brushed shoulders with whoever that killer was...!”

Just then, when she happened to glance up—

her eyes met Lee Wooshin’s, walking in through the office door.

She’d wondered why he hadn’t shown himself all morning.

Turns out he’d probably been busy training at dawn.

His hair was wet, as was that of Agent Yoo Dawit, who walked in behind him.

Her breakfast that day had been fried rice with no seasoning whatsoever.

She’d complained so many times about how bland it was, but the man had this weird stubbornness about things like that.

He’d said combat rations tasted like this, so she’d better get used to it.

So she’d glared at the dry, crumbling grains for a while... and eventually picked up her spoon and stuffed her face voluntarily.

Sigh...

Maybe drinking something warm would help settle her stomach.

She reached for the plum tea Jin Hoje had brewed for her—

—and just then, Wooshin approached from the side, his body exuding a clean soap scent, and tapped her belly as he passed.

“...!”

Startled, she reacted a beat too late, grabbing her stomach as if to protect it.

It was just a light touch of the back of his hand—like a casual pat—

but somehow it felt like he’d been checking something.

Trying to erase the warmth that had soaked in for just a moment, Seoryeong rubbed her belly furiously.

Lee Wooshin, expression unreadable, simply crossed between the agents’ desks and returned to his own seat.

But on the face she saw in passing—just for a second—there was a trace of satisfaction.