*Tok... tok...*
The sound of high heels hitting the floor echoed clearly through the silence.
Channa flinched at the sound. Seoryeong felt an uncomfortable pressure begin to approach—slow, deliberate, inevitable.
From that moment on, she couldn't think clearly anymore.
She locked the kitchen door and began to move on pure instinct.
"I won't let you die alone."
Seoryeong dragged Channa's collapsed body into the storage room at the back of the kitchen, leaving a long trail of blood along the hallway—like railway tracks painted in red. But she didn't care. She grabbed the large pot of *doenjang* soup she'd prepared for eight people and poured the entire contents onto the floor, then rubbed the soles of her shoes across the tile to smear away the bloodstains.
The sound made the approaching footsteps outside stop.
As if the person had heard something.
Seoryeong locked the storage room door and pulled Channa into her arms, holding her tight.
"Channa is in very bad condition." Her voice was a ragged whisper. "We have to take her to the hospital as soon as possible. It looks like she was stabbed in the neck—there's so much blood..."
"—..."
No sound came from the other end of the earpiece.
Seoryeong bit her lip. She knew what the silence meant.
Going to the hospital wasn't an option. Getting out of this place wasn't easy—or maybe not even possible.
But in her heart, she felt grateful that Lee Wooshin didn't say _I told you so_—words that would only deepen the pain already carving through her chest.
Instead of commenting, he began to analyze the situation with cold precision.
"—Where are you now?"
"The storage room in the kitchen. The one that's rarely used."
"—Press the wound with your thumb."
"What?"
"—Press down hard. Stop the bleeding. Whatever the cause of death ends up being—we have to try first."
Seoryeong slipped her fingers into the wound on Channa's neck and pressed down with all her strength.
"Ugh..."
Channa's body shifted slightly. The heavy flow of blood began to slow—then stop.
"—Don't take your hand off. If you do, she'll die right then and there."
Those words sent cold sweat pouring down Seoryeong's spine, but beneath her fingertips, she could feel it—a faint pulse. Weak but present.
She realized she had to do everything—**everything**—to save Channa.
"I won't let Channa die."
"—I think Channa was the target of an assassination attempt."
Lee Wooshin's tone was flat, clinical—as if delivering a mission report.
"—She's an important figure from North Korea that we overlooked. When she defected, an order to kill her was likely already issued."
It had been more than seven years since Channa escaped. What was happening now should have been impossible—unpredicted by anyone.
"—But... it's strange that Channa is still alive."
Seoryeong frowned at his words, as if he were implying it was *wrong* for her to have survived this long.
"Watch your words."
"—Trained assassins don't miss. If they really wanted to kill Channa, she'd already be dead." A pause. "But maybe they wanted to interrogate her. Or use her as bait. Because Channa is North Korean... and also a double agent who can be exploited."
"..."
"—Channa is still alive because they haven't started the torture yet."
"Torture?"
"—Yes. They'll be here soon."
Even though his sentence was incomplete, Seoryeong knew exactly who Lee Wooshin was referring to.
And at the same time, the sound of high heels returned.
*Tok... tok...*
"They're almost at the kitchen." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "I think we'll be found."
As soon as the words left her mouth, the old kitchen door began to shake violently.
The sound of it being kicked—struck hard from the outside—echoed through the room, accompanied by shouts in a foreign language she didn't understand. The noise was so loud that the earpiece went briefly silent.
It sounded like Lee Wooshin cursed under his breath.
"—Prepare the weapon."
His voice returned—cold, steady.
"—Pull back the slide, then aim at the door."
"..."
"—This will be your first shot. I'm sure you'll miss." His tone didn't soften. "Don't panic when you miss. Shoot again immediately. Even if you're unskilled and unlucky—you have to at least *try*. Otherwise, your weapon will be taken, and you'll be killed with it."
His cold, blunt words made the small hope flickering inside Seoryeong seem to vanish entirely.
"—I'm almost there."
And at that moment—
The door was kicked down.
Debris flew everywhere. Someone stepped inside.
Seoryeong's heart beat so fast it felt like it would explode out of her chest. But the world around her became completely silent—as if time had stopped. Everything felt frozen except her eyes, her nose, her ears, which were working with unbearable sharpness.
Lee Wooshin's voice was the only thing she could still hear clearly.
"—And if you really have to die... at least try to shoot once before that happens."
"—!"
"—I'll know who did it then."
His attitude was utterly merciless. Completely firm.
Seoryeong raised the corner of her lips slightly.
Even though the situation was catastrophic, hearing his voice in this state somehow made her feel **calmer**.
But the problem was that the situation itself was impossibly unfavorable.
Her left hand was occupied—pressed firmly against the wound on Channa's neck. Her right hand, holding the gun, was already slick with sweat and blood, making the grip slippery and unstable.
Finally, Seoryeong decided to bite the top of the gun barrel and pull back the slide with her teeth. She yanked hard, even though the metal tasted of salt and saliva, then glanced down at Channa.
Their eyes met.
Seoryeong gently stroked Channa's cold, clammy skin, trying to offer comfort.
_Don't worry. This time, I'll save you._
The promise echoed silently in her heart.
At the same time, the storage room door shook violently.
"—!"
Her entire body tensed. Fear made it nearly impossible to breathe.
Even Lee Wooshin's voice in her ear suddenly disappeared, swallowed by a wave of silence.
*Tok... tok...*
The sound of high heels walking back and forth in front of the door—then fading away.
"—Don't be fooled. They already know you're in there."
Lee Wooshin's warning cut through the quiet like a blade.
He knew their enemies were true hunters. What they were doing now was merely pretending to hesitate—prolonging the hunt, savoring the fear.
"—Don't move. Wait and aim at the door."
Seoryeong gripped the gun tightly and pointed it at the door. But her body trembled violently—from her hands all the way up to her shoulders. The barrel shook so much she couldn't aim accurately.
But if the door opened—
_She had to pull the trigger._
_She had to be able to pull that trigger._
The thought spun around in her head until it felt like madness.
Then a low voice sounded from the earpiece.
"—One more thing. Clench your teeth tightly. When the bullet fires, your wrist could shatter."
The storage room door exploded open.
"—!"
The figure who entered was so different from what Seoryeong had imagined that she couldn't pull the trigger.
Her hand slipped off.
Even though Lee Wooshin shouted something loud in her ear, the sound wasn't clear—muffled beneath the roar of her own pulse.
Standing in the doorway—grinning—was a petite woman with dark skin and large, sharp eyes. She wore short shorts and a tank top, paired with high heels that clicked against the tile. She didn't look like an intruder at all.
That split-second hesitation changed everything.
As Seoryeong's grip faltered, the woman lunged.
She smiled—**enthusiastically**—and slashed at Seoryeong with a *karambit* knife curved like a crescent moon.
When the gun slipped from her grasp, Seoryeong reflexively raised her arm to shield her face.
The blade bit deep.
Her forearm opened in a brutal slash.
"You damn bitch! Han Seoryeong!"
But Seoryeong didn't care about anything except her fingers—still pressed firmly against the wound on Channa's neck.
She knew that if she released the pressure, Channa would die.
The blood would pour out again.
So she didn't move.
Didn't scream.
Even though her arm had been nearly severed by the strike, she **held on**.
Until her eyes met the assassin's—filled with savage, gleaming hunger.
"...!"
_Yes... this gaze... this strange feeling..._
_I've seen it somewhere before._
Suddenly, her body moved without conscious thought.
She grabbed the gun that had fallen to the floor and slammed it with all her remaining strength into the assassin's leg.
The assassin bent over, stumbling back a step.
Seoryeong felt something click into place—recognition flooding through her like ice water.
The city center she had visited with Channa.
The streets they had hurried back through.
The women who offered themselves to tourists.
Short shorts. High heels. A very strong smell of perfume.
"You bastard..."
Seoryeong's voice came out hoarse, shaking with fury and realization.
"You're not a woman, are you?"