_Owl._
The codename echoed through his mind like a wound that refused to close.
_Yes—Owl started working here._
"—Umm... You've met her, Team Leader?"
The cautious voice on the other end of the earpiece made Lee Wooshin fall silent. His jaw tightened.
_Met her?_
Not just met. **More** than met.
"—But... she definitely didn't recognize you, did she? You weren't wearing the Kim Hyeon mask."
"That's right."
He swallowed with difficulty. There was only one truth that mattered—_she hadn't recognized him_. Lee Wooshin drew a long, steadying breath, forcing his pulse to slow.
"—Owl... her face is okay, right?"
"What?"
"—I mean... uh..."
The hesitation in Na Wonchang's voice made Wooshin inhale sharply through his nose. He truly didn't understand how someone like Wonchang—a man utterly incapable of controlling his emotions—could function as a covert operative. If it weren't for his technical abilities, Wonchang would be completely unsuitable for fieldwork. Even a desk job as a regular civil servant might be too demanding for him.
"—I mean... the Team Leader told us not to report anything about Owl, so..."
"Then why are you bringing this up now?"
"—Lately, Owl tried to cross the border to the north. But she was caught."
"...What?"
Lee Wooshin's eyebrows furrowed so deeply they nearly touched. The words didn't make sense. It was as if he'd misheard—something unbelievable, impossible to immediately process. He stood frozen, unable to move.
_What...? What did she do?_
"Owl... what did she do?"
"—...Tried to cross over to the north."
"..."
"—She accused the Team Leader... I mean, Kim Hyeon... of being a spy."
"—!"
"—She also demanded that because she attempted to defect, Kim Hyeon should be investigated as well."
Wonchang's words left him speechless.
_Owl... did you really do that?_
The reports on Owl had always been simple—unremarkable, just like her personality. Nothing ever stood out. She was quiet. Lonely. Since entering society as an adult, she had performed the same tasks repeatedly, never once complaining. Diligent. Hardworking. Always striving to do her job well.
Someone so reserved, so contained... _how could she possibly do something like that?_
"She's not the type of woman who would do something like that."
But even as the words left his mouth, the memory of her in that bathroom flooded back—the cold precision of her voice, the unwavering kick aimed at his shin, the scalding water she'd poured over his body without a flicker of concern for whether it would burn him.
That was **not** the Owl he knew.
And then there was her gaze—fixed, unblinking, on the part of him that had tensed without his permission. The thought made Lee Wooshin exhale in sharp annoyance.
_Why did that have to happen at that exact moment...?_
The woman's eyes, which once seemed interested only in the line of his collarbone, now cut straight through him—sharp as nails, foreign and unsettling.
Her vision had returned to normal.
He rubbed his forehead, the unease in his chest growing stronger with each passing second.
"—Yes... But after her husband disappeared, it seems like she..."
"..."
"—It seems difficult for her to cope."
He had once believed she must be hurting—that she carried questions inside her that would never find answers. But he had also believed she was resilient. That after her anger toward Kim Hyeon faded, she would return to her quiet life, moving forward as she always had.
Lee Wooshin's brow furrowed deeper, the sting of hot water still phantom-present on his skin.
_But she tried to escape to the north..._
That strange obsession made his thoughts halt entirely.
Wonchang, interpreting the silence as a prelude to being reprimanded, rushed to change the subject.
"—Fortunately, the defection attempt was only charged as property damage and resolved with a fine..."
"..."
"—I should have kept a closer eye on her movements, but since there were no orders from above... I ignored it. It was my fault. I'm sorry."
But in truth, whether she was here or not shouldn't have mattered.
For Lee Wooshin, there was one principle that never wavered: _a completed mission must not affect the current one._
He slowly rotated his neck, releasing the tension coiled in his shoulders. The heat that had surged to his head began to recede, cooling degree by degree. As he confronted the situation head-on, the confusion that had briefly consumed him vanished—as if it had never existed at all.
Wonchang, sensing his superior's composure returning, continued with renewed confidence.
"—But... it seems like you won't see her often anyway! The departments you work in are completely different, and she definitely doesn't recognize you! Owl is only interested in Kim Hyeon, so... it's really quite lucky—"
Lee Wooshin's eyebrow twitched—a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, gone before it could be caught.
What he needed now was information. Everything there was to know about the Owl who had just started this job.
"Investigate thoroughly."
"—Yes, Team Leader!"
But investigation alone wouldn't be enough to understand what she was thinking. Her current state. Her mental condition. How she was processing the reality of her husband's disappearance.
To truly understand everything, surveillance wouldn't suffice.
"If possible," he said quietly, "it would be better to remove her from sight entirely."
---
## — The Kitchen —
Uncomfortable feelings had a way of clinging tighter and lasting longer than pleasant ones.
Seoryeong stood at the sink, washing and preparing carrots, when the memory of that morning's encounter surfaced unbidden. She had a hundred things to think about—real things, important things—but it was the man's body that kept disrupting her thoughts.
The unfamiliar tattoo. The foreign script coiling up his abdomen. And _that_—suddenly stiffened, undeniably large, the image burned into her memory with mortifying clarity.
Seoryeong shook her head violently, as if she could physically dislodge the picture from her mind. Her hands moved faster, the peeler scraping against the carrot with aggressive speed.
Perhaps it was because she'd been blind for so long. The sudden return of sight made every visual detail stick with uncomfortable permanence.
She hated his cunningness—the way he hid his rudeness behind that infuriatingly calm demeanor. She hated his indifference, his one-sided way of communicating, the way he'd cornered her as if she were the one who'd intruded.
Everything about him made her uncomfortable.
Her peeling grew faster still.
"Ah...!"
She stopped suddenly, exhaling a soft, frustrated sigh.
_That man... it was curved upward too._
The thought arrived uninvited, and she found herself recalling what she'd seen in the bathroom with unwelcome precision. The man with the strange attitude had definitely possessed a physique that curved slightly upward.
Kim Hyeon—her husband—used to be embarrassed about that very thing.
He had once confessed in a low, reluctant voice that he was ashamed because his body was shaped like that. _"Curved like a hook,"_ he'd said, unable to meet her eyes.
The memory was still lodged firmly in her mind.
And now, the recollection made her chest feel cold—hollow, as if something vital had been scraped away.
"Seoryeong!"
A voice from behind snapped her back to the present. One of the cooks stood near a stack of prepared lunch boxes, gesturing urgently.
"Sorry—can you help deliver these? There are no other female staff available right now."
"Okay."
Seoryeong set down the carrots and wiped her hands on her apron.
"Thirty boxes total. Just deliver them to the Hwajin Factory."
"Understood."
"When you go out front, there'll be a car waiting. Our staff at the factory already knows you're coming—they'll meet you when you arrive."
The cook loaded the lunch boxes into large bags one by one, then paused, his expression turning serious.
"There's a protest happening over there. Try to come back quickly, alright?"
---
Seoryeong stepped outside carrying two heavy bags, one in each hand. A van waited at the curb, just as the cook had promised. The trunk popped open automatically, and she loaded the bags into the back before circling around to the passenger side.
The door wouldn't open.
She tugged at the handle. Nothing. Usually these company vehicles were filled with employees coming and going—someone always unlocked the doors. But no matter how many times she pulled, the door remained stubbornly sealed.
_The trunk opened on its own, but this won't budge?_
She exhaled sharply.
_This driver clearly doesn't understand anything._
Rather than waste more energy, she walked around to the front passenger seat and tried that door instead. It opened immediately—but the moment she saw who sat in the driver's seat, her expression went rigid.
She climbed in, suppressing the sudden spike of unease.
"Where's your mask?"
"—!"
That low, deceptively gentle voice made her hand freeze on the door handle. She turned her head slowly, already knowing what she would find.
The man from the bathroom.
The one with the serpent tattoo.
He sat in the driver's seat, elbow propped casually on the steering wheel, watching her with an expression of perfect calm. Today, his eyes weren't gray.
They were black.
"...What are you doing here?"
"I have some business at the factory. You're going to Hwajin, right?"
"..."
"Or would you prefer I take you somewhere else?"
When she didn't move—didn't respond—he leaned across the console and pulled her door shut himself, the motion bringing him close enough that his scent reached her. Something clean and unfamiliar. Something she'd never smelled before.
"Fasten your seatbelt."
Seoryeong's brow furrowed as she complied, fingers working the buckle with barely contained irritation.
"I'll start driving now."
He said it as if she'd asked. As if she'd wanted any of this.
_Who even asked you..._
She scoffed inwardly, watching him from the corner of her eye. He wore a black cap pulled low, casting his face in shadow. His demeanor seemed almost familiar now—that same flat affect, that same cold neutrality she'd encountered in the steam-filled bathroom.
_Oh... no wonder I felt like I'd seen him before._
"Before anything else," he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "do you know who I am?"
"I do."
Her answer came without hesitation. Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps, quickly suppressed—before he continued.
"Then who am I?"
"...You're the new member of the special security team, aren't you?"
"...Oh—"
He removed his cap briefly, ran a hand through his hair, then replaced it with a faintly confused expression. Looking at his physique now—the broad shoulders, the prominent muscles straining against his clothes—it was obvious he was military. His face might pass for a student's, but those tight training clothes highlighted a body that had been honed for combat.
She recognized the uniform. She washed them often enough for the soldiers on his team.
_Please don't talk anymore..._
Seoryeong turned her face toward the window, watching the city blur past.
_Just don't say another word._