Ki Taemin was slightly startled by what he heard.
"Could you possibly be under Jin Hoje's orders—"
"Do you know if Jin Hoje is—"
Lee Wooshin's face twisted like he'd tasted something foul, a crease forming between his brows.
He separated the weapon and bullet chamber in quick succession, then shook his head, dismissing whatever he was about to ask.
A sigh of disgust escaped his lips.
"It's truly amazing how quickly you can lose your mind just by the rustling sound of an owl."
He muttered it to himself.
Lee Wooshin felt **annoyed** by the comfort of those sunny days—falling asleep on the sofa while holding her, having breakfast together like sparrows sitting intimately, laughing while strolling around the neighborhood.
But what was this **thirst**? What was this feeling that arose every time he saw her recklessly pursuing Kim Hyeon?
His stomach twisted.
_When you trust someone too much and give them your whole heart, in the end, that foundation crumbles and you get betrayed._
Those kinds of people are irreparable. Uncontrollable.
Best to just use them for their intended purpose.
Yet he felt a strong **aversion**—sometimes to the point of goosebumps—whenever he saw the owl act contrary to his thoughts.
_Why can't you forget your husband's warmth? Why are you so obsessed?_
Lee Wooshin immediately stepped out of the barrier and walked past Ki Taemin.
_"If you're not going to bring my husband back, just stay away."_
Her words flashed in his mind.
His steps halted.
It felt like being caught in a terribly disgusting trap.
But now was the time to make a choice.
Somehow.
His stopped feet slowly began to climb the stairs again.
---
After the brutal interrogation training that left many injured, the members were given a week to recover.
With exactly **half** of the training program completed, they received their cell phones back for the first time.
During recovery week, they were free to make calls at designated times. Everyone wore comfortable shoes and attended lectures throughout the afternoon.
The lectures covered domestic security missions and operational rules for overseas assignments.
Korean companies operating overseas faced various terrorism threats—pirates crossing the South China Sea, construction sites clashing with armed forces.
Since Blast primarily handled such security tasks, they provided detailed education on terrorist organizations.
Seoryeong concealed her expression and listened intently.
Her focus, of course, was on **"how the hostage situations were carried out."**
She filtered and interpreted the instructor's teachings in her own way.
_How did they capture them? How did they succeed?_
Cruel thoughts continued beneath her beautiful face.
"Huh, hey, the instructor is coming...!"
The instructor teaching the class was quite old, and the lessons always felt tedious.
Even though her colleague nudged her with their elbow, Seoryeong continued to prop her chin up with an uninterested expression.
Since the torture training, she hadn't encountered Lee Wooshin—neither publicly nor privately.
He wasn't seen during running exercises, meals, or fitness evaluations.
While Seoryeong flipped through the guidebook, she occasionally furrowed her brow.
The stiffness between her legs had disappeared, but something kept nagging at the edge of her heart.
That feeling of **frustration** had been there since the training.
Every time it occurred, Seoryeong couldn't find an answer and just tilted her head in confusion.
After the rough experience in Thailand, Director Kang Taegon had once asked if she had symptoms of PTSD.
_Could it be that a little torture training gave me that?_
While constantly furrowing her brow and pondering this unknown feeling, the classroom door opened.
A tall man walked in.
The previously noisy atmosphere instantly tensed.
She briefly released her hand from her chin.
"...!"
Lee Wooshin entered the classroom, rubbing one of his eyes.
He looked **tired**—posture slumped, clearly sleepy and annoyed as he dragged his military boot heels.
The man casually leaned one hand on the edge of the podium, indifferently looking at the members' faces.
Every time he leaned on that long podium, it felt like it could tip over.
At some point, he began to speak slowly.
"After you successfully complete the training, some of you will be dispatched to isolated and dangerous countries."
He didn't even glance in the direction where Seoryeong was sitting.
Facing that deliberate disregard felt like a harsh flint striking the corner of her heart.
_Wasn't he the one who carelessly slipped his fingers into someone else's opening?_
_So why is he acting like **I'm** the one who did something wrong?_
_Is this really what PTSD feels like?_
Despite narrowing her eyes and sharply looking at his pale face, the instructor remained calm.
"When a very weak country meets corruption, and precious natural resources become entangled with unpredictable local armed groups... mercenaries **thrive**."
"..."
"Aren't you happy? I'm talking about you."
When Lee Wooshin smirked, the members straightened their backs even more.
"You go around looking for money, right? As long as the price is right, the Blast Agency will always provide strong bodies. And you'll be at the **forefront**."
He crossed his arms over his fitted training uniform.
His muscles became more pronounced.
"Before you get too excited about making money, know this: if you end up falling into hell for doing bad things, the agency won't take responsibility."
"..."
"Abandon your neighbor. In this industry, the first law is to **abandon your neighbor**. There's no responsibility or safety here."
Lee Wooshin seemed determined to shake up the members again.
Some froze. Others bit their lips.
Then Seoryeong, who had been just doodling aimlessly, retorted.
"If meeting God has to be through the gates of hell, then it doesn't seem so bad. If that's the only place to meet, then you have to go. And if you go... go properly, happily, and as quickly as possible."
Lee Wooshin's previously indifferent eyes **finally** turned toward her.
The moment their gazes met, a hostility known only to the two of them collided like sparking electrical wires.
Lee Wooshin stared at her without blinking, as if frozen.
"..."
"..."
_Maybe it would be better if he just kept avoiding me._
Seoryeong sighed in annoyance.
Facing him felt like being trapped again in that dark, damp, yet intensely charged room.
She crossed her legs and adjusted her posture.
Something felt **strange** and itchy on her body.
_Why does it feel... itchy down there?_
_What kind of PTSD is this?_
Each time, her instinct urged her to forget.
But the gentle, safe sex with her husband and the instructor's threat were at completely opposite poles.
Perhaps because of that stark contrast, it became increasingly difficult to forget.
The pain was gone.
But the unnecessary memories only deepened.
"God, yes—"
The unbroken gaze wavered slightly at Lee Wooshin's flat voice.
"Member Han Seoryeong has a peculiar talent for talking about her desire to die quickly."
"......"
"Do you think you can meet him if you sit at the gates of hell?"
He slightly narrowed his eyes.
A hidden blade lurked in Lee Wooshin's wary gaze.
Her alertness heightened in response.
"Without knowing his real face, how do you expect to recognize him in an instant?"
Seoryeong remained silent.
"That's just a face that others drew for you."
The instructor was probably talking about the commonly depicted God.
But her heart dropped with a **thud**.
As the man continued the subtle staring match, he calmly turned and flipped on the PowerPoint presentation.
Come to think of it, his actions and words always shifted quickly.
Seoryeong usually realized things one step behind him.
This was similar to the first time she'd been hurt by him.
She gripped her phone tightly.
He was still **annoying**.
Earlier, the instructor's indifference had tensed her facial muscles.
But now those symptoms that might be PTSD seemed to be drastically improving.
_It felt strange._
"Blast has contracts with Asian countries like Taiwan, Nepal, Cambodia, Myanmar—"
He continued his explanation, displaying several photos.
Although his face mostly showed no expression, he sometimes frowned for no reason. His voice remained slow and monotonous.
While staring at him motionlessly, her eyelids began to feel heavy.
_I really don't suit desks..._
Listening to his unengaging voice, Seoryeong strangely began to feel **drowsy**.
The world felt so strange.
On the other side of the world, in Nigeria, female boarding school students were mass-kidnapped by a sect.
Just recently in Sudan, warlords deployed tanks and fighter jets against each other.
The red-alert escapee list and materials on terrorist groups alone filled more than one book.
Hearing these stories, Seoryeong felt slightly overwhelmed.
_They said Black agents are the main ones... Then where is Kim Hyeon? What is he doing now?_
He must still be on duty, devoted to the country—even if he married a woman he didn't love.
_If I gave him genuine love, even for a moment, perhaps he would have remained kind and diligent._
Seoryeong's half-conscious thoughts drifted.
_But the outside world he's in is so dangerous... Wouldn't it have been better if Kim Hyeon lived with me, even with some difficulties on my side?_
At some point, the instructor's voice completely faded away.
Her heavy head began to nod.
Just as Seoryeong's eyelids completely closed—
**THUD!**
The desk vibrated.