"Excuse me."
Someone's hand slowly uncurled Seoryeong's tightly clenched fist. A low, hoarse voice—polite, almost gentle—asked for permission before placing something warm into her palm.
"You look cold."
He guided her hand carefully around the curve of a glass, warm and empty, so she wouldn't be startled. His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle.
In that moment, Seoryeong quietly acknowledged the truth she'd been avoiding: her life from now on would exist in a world like this.
A world where she recognized people by their **voices**, not their faces.
Where she felt warmth from **temperature**, not from smiles.
A very different world.
But perhaps... not so bad.
That's what she thought at the time.
Soon after, the heavy rain stopped.
---
"_Hah—!_"
Pain like cold needles piercing her body jolted Seoryeong awake.
Ice-cold water splashed across her face, dripping down her jawline. _Where is this?_ She blinked in confusion. Droplets clung to her wet eyelashes, stinging her eyes.
Memories began to return.
_Ah... I was standing on the training field. I fainted._
She shook her head and looked around. The room was cramped, damp, suffocating. An old light bulb hung from the ceiling, flickering weakly as if it might die at any moment. Every time the light dimmed, the space revealed itself in fragments: a dirty floor, gray concrete walls, a broken bathtub filled with murky water, a wooden table lined with **long tools**, and—
"Why are you only waking up now? I was almost tired of waiting."
"...!"
A man's voice came from behind her.
Lee Wooshin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression bored.
Her consciousness sharpened. The pain in her arms hit her all at once—burning, throbbing. She was suspended by ropes tied around both wrists, her arms stretched high above her head. There was no floor beneath her feet. All her body weight hung from her wrists.
Her skin itched. Stung. The rope bit into her flesh.
She began to understand the situation she was in.
_At least I'm not hanging upside down. That's... something._
"What kind of drugs did you use on us?"
She decided to ask the question that bothered her most.
Lee Wooshin didn't answer. He just scooped water from the bathtub, silent and methodical.
Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words.
_Ah... the water we drank after the run._
He lifted the bucket—almost overflowing—and approached her.
_I have to be with this man in this state for two days... This is truly torture._
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Lee Wooshin said:
"59.9343°N, 30.3351°E."
"...!"
"I already know what was written on that paper."
Seoryeong stared at him, shocked.
_What kind of training is this? Did it end before it even started?_
"What I really want to hear isn't that information."
His face, lit by the orange glow of the flickering bulb, looked unfamiliar. More frightening than usual.
"So don't make that kind of face."
He wasn't the team leader anymore. Not the instructor. This was something else. Something **real**.
"I told you," he said quietly. "I will teach you what you've been neglecting."
He pulled the rope.
Her arms jerked upward until they touched her ears. Her body lifted high, like meat hung on a hook.
"Have you ever thought about what you would face if you were taken prisoner?"
Their eyes met.
Seoryeong kicked toward the floor—too far to reach.
Lee Wooshin walked to the table and picked up a long stick. It looked almost like a cane for the blind.
"When you do something bad, you have to accept bad consequences. Why don't you understand?"
An electric current crackled to life along the stick.
"Blast's main clients are often from small countries ruled by corrupt leaders. War criminals. Dictators. Drug traffickers. The kind of people who commit international crimes and get away with it."
"..."
"We're the **garbage collectors**."
"..."
"Sometimes we work for dictators. Sometimes for rebels. Sometimes for state agencies, or cartels. If the client wants it, we kill innocent people without hesitation. We train criminals to make bombs. We protect the worst humanity has to offer."
"..."
"So, do you still want to work here?"
Lee Wooshin spoke about his team with **disgust**, and Seoryeong felt something shift inside her.
She thought back to Thailand. To the things she'd seen. The things she'd done.
She'd always believed she was someone who existed outside the boundaries of good and evil. But maybe she'd approached this job with a different perspective than she realized.
Maybe she had **standards** after all.
"You think too highly of yourself."
Lee Wooshin's gaze was full of condemnation. The smile that usually played on his lips was gone, replaced by something cold and emotionless.
Seoryeong stared back at him without blinking.
What was inside him wasn't beautiful candy. It was **filth**.
This was the first time her interest in Lee Wooshin began to fade.
Her gaze sharpened.
"When you get caught doing something bad—"
The electric current buzzed again.
"—this shock device can be inserted into your mouth. Your ears. Or even your genitals."
"...!"
"And no one will come to help you."
"..."
"No one will come this far to save you."
He grabbed her chin, his voice soft, almost soothing—like he was comforting a child who didn't understand the world.
"Do you understand? The job you want is **like this**."
"_Ugh...!_"
His rough hand squeezed her chin so hard she thought her jaw would break.
"It's much easier to abandon you if you're broken. Cheaper. More effective. Blast won't be responsible for employee safety. **Ever.**"
The electric current buzzed louder.
"In South Africa, they threw women into prisons full of men. Sometimes they used pliers to tear out prisoners' mouths. Hammered nails under their fingernails. Do you know what happens when they soak someone in dirty water for days?"
He leaned closer.
"Their bodies **rot**."
The atmosphere was suffocating. She couldn't speak.
"This is unpublished training. Torture like this is still used in other parts of the world. Now imagine what will happen if you work at Blast under my supervision."
He hurled the electric shock stick against the wall.
**_Crack._**
"Your body will be destroyed, Seoryeong."
He was breathing hard, his tone ice-cold.
"If you hesitated to take off your pants in the water, then how will you handle what's to come?"
He squeezed her chest hard—his hand a vice, causing pain that made her body stiffen. She twisted out of his grip and glared at him with **hatred**.
"Let go of me!"
"But you won't be able to fix this situation with just your courage."
His large hand squeezed again, harder, as if he wanted to crush her.
"I know you've tried hard. But this is **reality**. Passing the training isn't the final step. If a female soldier is captured overseas—"
"I said **let go**..."
Seoryeong gritted her teeth, voice trembling with fury.
"—your chances of facing something worse than this are **very high**."
Lee Wooshin's hand slid inside her shirt.
The heat of his palm against her sensitive skin made her stomach turn. Seoryeong struggled fiercely, but he held her tightly, lifting her bra and squeezing her chest hard.
"Torture against female prisoners is always brutal."
"_Ugh..._ Bastard!"
"That's right. Your mind is coming back, isn't it?" His voice was mocking. "You want them to tear your body apart?"
"Let **go**!"
"You won't be able to endure or resist. You just have to **survive** this situation. And you think courage will help you?"
He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Try using your **brain**!"
Their eyes met.
Anger. Resistance. **Hatred**.
And beneath it all—cold, brutal **truth**.