"That… what exactly is that?"
Seoryeong blinked, her expression frozen somewhere between confusion and disbelief. The size didn't surprise her—she'd seen enough of men's bodies in her line of work. The hairlessness wasn't remarkable either. What truly arrested her attention was the striking jet-black tattoo etched across his pale skin.
A serpent coiled around his groin, its scaled body rendered in meticulous detail, winding upward toward his navel. Foreign script traced the curves of the snake's form, the letters unfamiliar yet somehow elegant. Without thinking, she tilted her head, trying to decipher the strange writing.
"Even if you stare like that, you still won't be able to read it."
"—!"
The deep voice cut through the humid air, and Seoryeong's gaze snapped upward so fast her neck ached.
"You'd have to get closer if you wanted to read it."
His long finger pointed lazily toward the area near his navel, and the realization of what she'd been doing crashed over her like cold water. _She had been staring at his genitals. Without blinking. Like some kind of—_
Heat flooded her face, shame coiling tight in her chest. She forced her eyes up to meet his, desperate to salvage what remained of her dignity. But something in his expression had shifted. The calm detachment was gone, replaced by something strange and searching. His gaze traced her features with an intensity that made her skin prickle, as if he were solving a puzzle he hadn't expected to find.
His eyes drifted upward, narrowing slightly.
Then everything happened at once.
The shower shut off with a violent screech. His hand shot forward, and before Seoryeong could react, her mask was torn away, leaving her face exposed and defenseless.
"—!"
She saw his eyes widen—truly widen, the careful composure cracking like thin ice.
"B—!"
He started to speak, then stopped, his jaw snapping shut as if the word had burned his tongue. His bright eyes trembled visibly, something raw and unguarded flickering in their depths. Seoryeong's instincts screamed at her to run. She moved toward the door, but his body blocked her path, an immovable wall of wet skin and coiled muscle.
"…What are you doing here?"
His voice was low, tight with tension. He stared at her as if she were a ghost—or perhaps something far more dangerous.
"I'm sorry… I thought no one was here." She kept her voice steady despite her racing pulse. "I'll leave now—"
Voices echoed from behind the door.
Seoryeong's blood ran cold. Before panic could fully set in, the man's arm hooked around her waist and dragged her deeper into the stall, pressing them both against the cold tile. The space was impossibly small. His chest nearly touched hers, water still dripping from his hair onto her uniform.
"Excuse me—please let me through—"
She tried to shove him with her elbow, but it was like pushing against stone. He didn't budge.
"Wait." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I need time to think."
"What do you mean—"
His soaking body pressed closer, and Seoryeong felt her clothes grow heavy with moisture. Steam curled between them, thick and suffocating.
"Right now…" His eyes swept across her face, sharp and calculating, as if conducting an interrogation. "What exactly are you doing here?"
The initial impression she'd had of him—distant, indifferent, unthreatening—was dissolving rapidly. Something darker lurked beneath that handsome face.
"Someone said they found a name tag in the bathroom," she said carefully.
"That's not what I meant." His jaw tightened. "I'm asking what you're doing at this company."
"I cook and do laundry."
"…"
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with one hand. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something more, then pressed together, swallowing whatever words had risen. Seoryeong took the opportunity to pull her mask back on, the familiar fabric offering a thin layer of protection.
"I'm sorry, but I don't need special treatment." She kept her tone flat, professional. "I see naked soldiers all the time—it's not a problem. My job is to wash their underwear and cook their meals."
"…"
"What makes me uncomfortable is _this_ situation. Please let me through."
"Do you always have a habit of staring at people like that?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
His gaze bore into her, demanding answers. The intensity forced her to look at him properly, their bodies still impossibly close. _Since my eyesight came back_, she thought, but she felt no obligation to explain herself to a stranger—especially one who had her cornered in a shower stall.
The unfamiliar scent of him—something sharp and clean beneath the smell of water—made her chest tight. She shoved against him with all her strength.
He stepped back barely an inch.
Then his hands rose, palms pressing flat against the tile on either side of her head.
_Cornering her._
_What an insufferable man._
Seoryeong aimed a kick at his shin with everything she had. He dodged it like swatting away a fly. Fury and desperation surged through her in equal measure. Her hand shot out and wrenched the shower faucet.
Scalding water exploded from the showerhead.
"—!"
The stream hit him full in the chest and shoulders, water hot enough to redden skin on contact. But he didn't flinch. Didn't cry out. His shoulders bloomed pink under the assault, yet he remained standing, utterly still, as if the heat meant nothing to him at all.
Water ricocheted off his body and splashed across Seoryeong, drenching her where she stood trapped in the corner. Calmly—_impossibly_ calmly—he reached over and turned off the faucet, then spat water from his mouth.
"…!"
The pressure radiating from him was suffocating now. And with the water clearing from her eyes, she could finally see the tattoo clearly—the serpent's body extending higher than she'd first noticed, the foreign script curling up toward his ribs.
**_Если жизнь тебя обманет_**
_If life deceives you._
"That's why you should never look people directly in the eye."
Before she could respond, his hand flicked upward, splashing water directly into her face. She squeezed her eyes shut instinctively.
_Crazy. What a completely insane man._
Her heart slammed against her ribs, and a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach without warning.
---
## — The Special Security Team Office —
The clothes he'd thrown on were still damp in places—he hadn't bothered to dry himself properly. Lee Wooshin strode directly to the special security team's office, locked the door behind him, and retrieved the wireless earpiece hidden beneath his desk.
His jaw was tight with barely contained fury.
"—Hello, you called me, Team Leader?"
The cheerful voice of his subordinate came through immediately, eager and ready for orders. Lee Wooshin closed his eyes and clenched his teeth until his molars ached.
Someone called his name through the earpiece. Then again. He didn't answer.
He was trying—desperately—to suppress the chaos roiling in his chest. Time seemed to stretch, each second thick and suffocating.
When he finally opened his eyes, the uncertainty that had clouded his gaze was gone. In its place: cold, surgical focus.
He drew a long breath and spoke in a voice like gravel.
"Why is Owl here?"
"…What do you mean, Team Leader?"
Wonchang's reply was confused—genuinely confused, or perhaps carefully surprised. Lee Wooshin's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"If you keep acting so carelessly, how do you expect to get paid?"
He suppressed his irritation with visible effort, crossing his arms behind his head. His heart was still pounding so violently it felt like it might crack his ribs.
_Owl._
The codename echoed through his mind like a curse.
Lee Wooshin was currently deep undercover at Blast Company, executing what was meant to be his final mission. Intelligence had confirmed that classified data from the National Intelligence Service had been leaked to a private military contractor. He'd been inserted as the head of the special security team to investigate.
Blast was a subsidiary of the Sehwa Group—a military services company the government used for operations too politically sensitive or financially inconvenient to conduct openly. But rumors had been circulating for months: illegal operations overseas, off-the-books contracts, money flowing in directions it shouldn't.
If those rumors proved true, the scandal would shake the foundations of the intelligence community.
The timing had been almost too perfect. The previous security team leader had vacated the position, and Blast was quietly seeking a replacement with the right qualifications: combat expertise, strategic acumen, intelligence experience, military training background.
In the entire National Intelligence Service, no one fit those criteria better than Lee Wooshin.
He'd barely needed to alter his work history—just a few adjustments to his overseas deployments. And so he'd infiltrated Blast's secretive special security division, tasked with uncovering the corruption linking government agencies to this private military machine.
But now—
"Wonchang." His voice dropped to something lethal. "Are you deaf? I asked you why Owl is here."
"—W-what…! Wait—wait a minute… Is _Owl_ there? Right now?"
"What exactly have you been doing?"
"—No, hold on! Owl? _Our_ Owl?"
Wonchang's voice had begun to tremble. Lee Wooshin ground his teeth until his jaw ached.
"_Our_ Owl?"
"—Th-that… I mean…"
"Oh, I see." A smile curved Lee Wooshin's lips—sharp, humorless, dangerous. "So you consider yourself on the same side as the Owls now, is that it?"
Even as he spoke, his mind was reeling. _How had this happened?_ He'd encountered the Owl—confirmed their identity with his own eyes—and somehow failed to recognize them. Missed them completely.
He pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples.
_Had there ever been a mission where the enemy simply appeared before him like this? After everything was supposed to be over?_
A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped him.
But the shock lasted only a moment. Something darker rose to take its place: a cold, consuming fury at the situation spiraling beyond his control.
From the other end of the earpiece came the rapid clicking of keyboard keys.
"—_Haa_…! How could Owl be there…"
"If you've found her, just say it."
His voice cracked like a whip.
"—…Han Seoryeong. Twenty-seven years old. Started working at Blast Company one month ago. Logistics department. Currently assigned to kitchen and laundry duties…"
Rage surged through him, white-hot and blinding, rushing all the way to his scalp.
Lee Wooshin's fist slammed into the desk with enough force to dent the metal.