"—!"
Yellow liquid ran down her arm, thick and cold. Fragments of shattered shell clung to her sleeve.
_A raw egg._
Before she could dodge, a second and third came hurtling toward her from different directions. Seoryeong threw her hands up to shield her face, ducking low, but the eggs found their marks anyway—shoulders, back, the crown of her head. The yolk soaked through her clothes in spreading patches of wet and cold.
_They think I'm management._
Harsh curses rang out from the protesters, voices overlapping in fury. The rain of eggs continued without pause.
"What the hell are you on, huh?"
Lee Wooshin's voice cut through the chaos—calm, almost conversational.
"Now, *that's* important too?!"
She snapped back, her voice cracking with disbelief. Even now, he stood with his arms folded, watching her as though this were a mildly interesting inconvenience rather than an assault. Eggs exploded against the ground around them with wet, percussive sounds—*plak, plak, plak*—like small detonations.
"It is important." His tone didn't waver. "I can't include someone who's hallucinating due to drugs on the deployment list."
"I'm not on drugs!"
"But you said earlier your vision wasn't clear."
"Let's just *go*, okay—!"
"If it's not drugs, then what kind of smell makes someone lose their mind like that?"
"It's my husband's scent—!" The words tore out of her before she could stop them. "Where are the car keys?!"
Seoryeong exploded, saying everything she had been holding back in one furious breath. It was as if she were the only one who felt any urgency in this situation. Even though Wooshin had been hit just as badly—egg dripping from his coat, shell fragments caught in his hair—he stood there with the stillness of someone struck by something far larger than breakfast ingredients.
_This kind of person is truly insufferable._
She tried to run, to escape alone, but his hand shot out and caught her elbow.
"What—!"
His other hand moved fast—rising toward her face as if to strike.
_What?!_
Her hair stood on end. But instead of flinching away, Seoryeong stared straight at his chest, jaw set, thoughts crystallizing into cold certainty:
_If he slaps me, I'll hit him back._
But Wooshin's hand stopped just beside her temple.
*Crack.*
Something broke. A chilling sensation ran from her ear down the back of her neck. Everything had happened in less than a second.
He had caught the egg aimed at her head and crushed it in his bare palm.
Thick, viscous liquid dripped from between his fingers.
"Strange."
While Seoryeong stood frozen, Wooshin wiped his soiled hand on his ruined coat without a hint of guilt, muttering as though speaking only to himself. His attitude was so natural, so shameless, that she couldn't find words.
"Following a strange man just because of a smell." He rubbed his egg-slicked finger beneath his nose, inhaling deliberately. The fishy stench of raw yolk reached Seoryeong's nostrils. "Do you think that's normal? Even if it's another man's scent..."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Just the scent of a neglected man, isn't it?"
"—!"
"And someone this crazy is still allowed to handle our underwear?"
His tone remained gentle, almost pleasant. But the look in his eyes was so cold it made her shiver—glacial beneath the surface calm. Seoryeong didn't look away. She met his gaze and held it.
"Not another man." Her voice came out steadier than she expected. "My husband."
"..."
"Other men are everywhere. But my husband is the only one in this world." She spoke each word with deliberate precision. "He's not crazy. He doesn't act strange. And he doesn't smell disgusting. And my work has no problems."
She was trying to prove herself—to show that she had no flaws that could disqualify her from the deployment. But Wooshin only smiled mockingly, watching her in silence. The weariness and irritation in his eyes were palpable enough to make her skin prickle with cold.
"Husband, huh..."
He chuckled softly, repeating the word as though tasting something bitter.
"Alright." He turned away, scratching his eyebrow with visible annoyance. "It seems Miss Seoryeong is indeed not suitable for this place."
Her eyes widened.
_Did that mean... I can go?_
Before she could ask, Wooshin was already walking toward the back door, his broad back sticky with shattered eggs and drying yolk—just as filthy as hers.
He didn't say another word until they reached the office.
---
## — The Next Morning —
"Thailand, huh?"
Seoryeong was called into the division head's office first thing. When she opened the documents placed before her, her eyes went wide.
Medical staff. Driver. Cook.
**Han Seoryeong** was listed under cook.
"You'll be part of the support team in the kitchen. You'll depart with the main group." The division head scratched the back of his ear, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Study these documents carefully and prepare yourself. The back page is a confidentiality agreement. Sign it now."
He pushed a pen toward her.
"Don't worry—there are no field duties. You'll help from behind. The medical team is going too; medicine can be obtained locally..." He waved a hand vaguely. "We'll meet at the airport. The officers depart first. Combat troops take a separate plane."
"Then..." Seoryeong seized the opening. "What are the combat troops going to Thailand for?"
The division head pursed his lips, swiveled his chair away from her, and began typing without looking back.
"I don't know the details either. Your allowance and travel expenses will be deposited into your account as usual. Understood?"
"Ah, yes."
"There are no security officers assigned to you. Take good care of yourself." He finished with a heavy sigh. "If anything happens, just pretend you don't know. Over there, if you throw food at people like you did that time—you could get shot."
He began tidying his desk with rough, impatient movements, then added with grim humor:
"Miss Han Seoryeong, maybe it's better to just close your eyes."
---
## — The Kitchen —
The trip would begin the day after tomorrow.
Seoryeong planned to go home immediately after her shift and pack her suitcase. But for now, she stood in front of the stove, stirring soup for hours until sweat soaked the inside of her cap and mask. The heat from the burners was relentless.
Beside her, a senior colleague wrapped rolled omelets with practiced efficiency. Every time an egg was cracked—*crack*—the sharp sound of the shell breaking made Seoryeong flinch.
She thought of yesterday.
When they had returned to the office, the fishy smell of eggs had filled the car, creating a silence so thick it pressed against her eardrums. Had Wooshin already decided to take her by then? She wasn't sure. And truthfully, it wasn't what she needed to think about.
Seoryeong wasn't the type who cared about process or legitimacy. She only cared about results.
Still—it annoyed her, just a little, that everyone seemed to regard the other party as the crazy one.
"You could open your own restaurant, you know!"
The head chef's voice cut through her thoughts. He was glancing at the clock, already calculating the lunch rush. Around her, the other women began portioning rice and soup onto trays.
Seoryeong was arranging side dishes into small bowls when a senior colleague she knew approached her.
"I heard you're going to work overseas. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"If Seoryeong really leaves, this place will feel so empty." The older woman's voice dropped to something softer. "It's a shame."
Seoryeong looked up from the side dishes, confused. This was the opposite of what the division head had implied.
"I'm only going for a few days."
"I didn't mean it like that..."
The woman glanced around carefully, then leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"Anyone who has ever gone to work overseas with that special unit has ended up resigning."
"Who do you mean?"
"Well—people like us." She gestured vaguely at the kitchen. "Ordinary people."
"..."
"When asked why they quit, not a single one of them explained."
Seoryeong thought immediately of the confidentiality agreement she had just signed.
"Every time someone is sent to work with that unit, it always ends like this..." The older woman's eyes grew misty. "You're like my own daughter, you know? I'm going to miss you so much."
"Didn't you say you have two sons?"
"Yes, that's right."
She patted Seoryeong's shoulder with a loud laugh—hard enough to push her slightly off-balance—then walked away.
Seoryeong sank into thought as she resumed her work.
_People who went overseas and then resigned..._
But support teams like them weren't supposed to go directly into the field. So it couldn't be because of injuries. In that case—
_..._
_Could it be guilt? For not being able to help directly?_
A thin smile formed behind her mask.
---
## — Bangkok, Thailand —
This was the first time she had set foot in Thailand.
The unfamiliar scenery assaulted her senses: street vendors hawking food she couldn't name, motorbikes weaving through traffic with death-defying confidence, temple spires glinting gold against a hazy sky. Scents she had never encountered before—spices, exhaust, tropical rot—made her heart beat faster even as they exhausted her.
It was winter in Korea.
Here, it was as hot as midsummer.
The humidity wrapped around her like a wet cloth, making every breath feel labored. Within hours, her skin had begun to redden from sunburn, as though she were being slowly roasted from the inside out.
Seoryeong and the other two support team members traveled disguised as independent tourists. Just three people: one from medical, one from driving, one from kitchen logistics.
After the formal introductions on the plane, Seoryeong didn't speak to them again. They worked with seamless efficiency, communicating only when necessary. Professional. Detached. Anonymous.
Their accommodation was far from the airport.
All the buildings in this district looked old and neglected—concrete stained with water damage, paint peeling in long strips, rusted fire escapes clinging to walls like dying vines. Among these structures, Seoryeong's team entered a hotel with walls that shed plaster dust and iron stairs that groaned under every footstep.
Inside, the medical team began unpacking their supplies: bandages, syringes, antibiotics smuggled from home. Meanwhile, Seoryeong prepared disguise clothing and instant food for the operation team.
As soon as she had a moment to catch her breath, she felt her alertness returning—sharpening like a blade drawn from its sheath.
_This is it._
_This is where I find answers._