Seoryeong stepped out of the truck and drew a deep breath.
The fresh, cold air filled her lungs, and for the first time since getting into that vehicle, she felt like she could think clearly again. Whether it was motion sickness or the impenetrable mind of the man behind the wheel, something about that confined space had suffocated her.
_They say humans can sense a compatible partner just from body odor._
The thought surfaced unbidden. Some instinctive connection—written into genetics, operating below conscious awareness. Perhaps that explained the revulsion coiling in her stomach. Perhaps nature itself was warning her to stay away.
She walked briskly to the back of the truck, opened the trunk, and retrieved the bag of food with practiced efficiency.
"You have experience as a caregiver. Why didn't you pursue that path?"
The voice came from behind her. Lee Wooshin was leaning against the side of the vehicle, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression.
"Blast Company is full of men." He tilted his head slightly. "It must be quite uncomfortable."
His posture was relaxed—deceptively so. When Seoryeong looked up, his height struck her again. He could easily see the top of her head without trying.
_Kim Hyeon was this tall too, wasn't he?_
The thought arrived unwanted, and she pushed it away. But even as she tried to summon her husband's face, the image refused to form clearly—like trying to hold water in her hands.
She adjusted her grip on the bag, distributing the weight more evenly.
"It's the same everywhere." Her voice came out flatter than she intended. "The people I meet at work—whether they're old men or young men—they're all annoying in their own way. What's the point of comparing?"
"..."
Lee Wooshin's hand paused mid-reach for a piece of candy. His eyes fixed on her lips with sudden intensity.
_Did I say something wrong?_
"At the nursing home," she continued, her tone deliberately casual, "there was an old man who would pull down his pants and ask me to hold his hand while I cleaned his groin. Crazy things like that happened so often I started laughing at them."
"..."
"You think it'll be different here?" She met his gaze without flinching. "It's the same everywhere."
She turned and walked toward the back entrance of the factory. Behind her, the sound of candy wrappers rustling made her glance back reflexively. Lee Wooshin was watching her, his expression impossible to read, fingers methodically peeling the wrapper from a hard candy.
When their eyes met, he smiled—automatic, meaningless.
"There's a protest happening here. It might be dangerous."
He nodded toward the back door. From somewhere beyond it, the sound of shouting echoed intermittently. She could see people wearing matching vests and red headbands moving back and forth. Some huddled around burning metal drums for warmth, the flickering firelight casting long shadows. The ground was littered with discarded signs and debris.
"There are Blast employees who've secretly infiltrated the workplace." His voice remained conversational, almost bored. "They're working to destroy the labor union from the inside."
"...!"
"Deploying private security forces to workplaces is common enough. But the government and police have never helped a private company quite this openly before." He popped the candy into his mouth. "Maybe that's why they feel so fearless."
"What are you trying to say?"
"It's dangerous." He shrugged one shoulder. "I'll wait in the car."
"..."
The words stuck in her throat.
_It wasn't that I was expecting anything, but..._
She stared at him, doubt creeping across her features. He yawned lazily, jaw working against the candy, then tossed the empty wrapper into her food bag with casual precision.
"If you're going, hurry up." He waved a dismissive hand. "The food will get cold and lose its taste."
"..."
_I don't want to deal with this man anymore._
Seoryeong stepped through the back door, the bag of food heavy in her hands. She wasn't sure who to deliver it to, so she kept scanning her surroundings as she walked. The noise grew louder as she moved deeper into the protest zone, but no one seemed to pay her much attention.
Even now, her mind was calculating. _How can I get my name on the overseas deployment list without raising suspicion?_
"Excuse me!"
A loud voice cut through her thoughts. A young man in a vest jogged toward her, slightly out of breath. His eyes locked onto the large bag emblazoned with the Blast logo—recognition flickering across his face, as though he'd seen it many times before.
_Ah... this must be the person._
Seoryeong walked toward him.
"Can I give you the food?"
"Yes."
"Thank you very much."
The young man had a simple, honest face. He bowed to receive the bag, and as he bent forward—
"...!"
A scent washed over her.
**_Familiar._**
Her feet moved before her brain caught up. She stepped closer, then closer still, until the young man looked up at her with confusion clouding his features. Seoryeong's eyes traced over him unconsciously—his height, the shape of his face, the backs of his hands.
He had a strong, well-defined jaw, but his overall appearance was rough, unpolished. Large eyes blinked at her with the innocent bewilderment of someone unused to attention. His shy demeanor felt achingly familiar.
And his scent—
_Too similar._
_Far too similar to Kim Hyeon's._
She stared at him without blinking.
The man bowed again, murmured something grateful, and hurried away.
Seoryeong followed.
She couldn't stop herself.
He sensed her presence after a few steps and stopped, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. That scent drifted toward her again—warm, intimate, **wrong**.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she could suppress it.
"Uh... why are you following me?"
"I... just wanted to see you eat."
"What?"
"I wanted to see how heartily you eat."
"Here?" His voice pitched higher with confusion. "Why?"
Seoryeong paused, searching for words that made sense.
"I wanted to see you enjoy the meal."
"..."
His nervousness made something twist in her chest. He looked so much like Kim Hyeon in those early days—before everything changed. Before the lies began.
Seoryeong bit her trembling lip.
_This feeling might just be an illusion. But why does my heart ache like this?_
The young man lowered his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry... it's a bit dirty inside..."
"Ah..."
"But if you want to give me your number..." He stole a glance at her, then looked away quickly. "I could have dinner with you after work..."
His words came out halting, uncertain. Seoryeong found her gaze drifting toward his collarbone—hidden beneath fabric and flesh, nothing like the sharp ridge she remembered tracing with her fingers in the dark.
The excitement that had flared in her chest guttered out.
Even so, she asked in a softer voice: "Are you wearing perfume?"
"What?"
"Or fabric softener?"
He narrowed his eyes like a confused cat, blinking rapidly.
"U-uh... I'm not sure. My mom takes care of all that..."
Seoryeong nodded slowly.
"Then... when should we eat..."
"It's okay." She stepped back. "I shouldn't have bothered you. Enjoy your meal."
She turned and walked away, her shoulders slumping with a weariness that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
"Ah! Miss...!"
The man's voice called after her—nervous, hopeful—but Seoryeong had already lost interest. Didn't even want to care anymore.
Her arms and legs felt impossibly heavy.
_How pathetic._
She was surprised at herself. How could her mind waver so quickly over something so small? A scent. A resemblance. Crumbs of evidence that meant nothing at all.
The longing for her husband made her feel more pathetic every time it surfaced. And her anger toward Kim Hyeon continued to grow—a living thing coiling tighter with each passing day.
_I want to kill him._
_But I also want to see him._
She closed her eyes, trying to suppress the chaos roiling inside her—
"What was that just now?"
Seoryeong's eyes snapped open.
She turned toward the voice. Lee Wooshin was walking toward her with a strange expression—something between curiosity and suspicion. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his long coat, and the sharp crease between his eyebrows made her immediately uncomfortable.
"Someone you know?"
He nodded toward the young man's retreating figure.
"No."
Seoryeong started walking, dragging her feet. On days like this—days heavy with exhaustion and grief—Kim Hyeon always felt like a ghost. A presence that materialized just when she needed someone to lean on, only to remind her that he was no longer there.
The memory flooded her mind and made her head throb.
"You said you'd wait in the car."
"If it's dangerous, you run. But the moment you get curious, you come right back." His footsteps matched hers easily. "So—who was that man you were staring at with such... *fascination*?"
His voice was flat, but something like amusement lurked beneath the surface.
"I came out of curiosity..." He tilted his head, studying her profile. "Am I here to deliver supplies, or to escort people?"
Seoryeong's teeth clenched.
_This is truly the worst timing._
He had appeared at the exact moment when she was most vulnerable—when her emotions had nearly broken through the surface. It felt deliberate. Like he was provoking her on purpose.
_Please. Shut your mouth._
She weighed her options: punch him in the mouth, or kick him in the stomach. Both seemed equally satisfying. Bad thoughts crowded her head—the stress of the new job, the terrible food, everything that had happened since she set foot in this company.
Her anger crested fast.
_Even if this is just venting..._
"That's right." Her voice came out sharp, reckless. "I was staring at him because I wanted to meet him. So what?"
"..."
"I liked his smell, so I got closer. It's none of your business, is it?"
"...Smell?"
"Yes." She turned to face him fully, chin lifted. "A smell that could make me lose my mind."
"Don't tell me you're using marijuana."
Seoryeong fell silent.
The way he left her speechless—so effortlessly, so infuriatingly—made a bitter laugh escape her before she could stop it.
"Forget it." She turned away. "Just put my name on the list. I'm not interested in pleasing you."
But before she could take another step—
**_Thwack!_**
Something struck her arm. Hard.