"Have you ever thought that you might be one of those losers too?"
At Seoryeong's calm words, Song Ukchan's already glaring eyes widened even further.
His lean body trembled uncontrollably. He was out of breath, yet his face showed no signs of changing expression.
"One week longer than you thought."
"What?"
"There will be people who quit on their own this time too. So, if I were you, Song Ukchan—"
"...!"
Hearing his name called out precisely, Song Ukchan's brow twitched.
"I'd use that **anger** of yours to try and be a little useful."
Seoryeong spoke through gritted teeth.
"What are you talking about now..."
"Utilize that **sly and vicious nature** of yours for once."
Her unwavering gaze was solely directed at the target—focused on Song Ukchan.
"I don't know how we can work together. But maybe I know how to **eliminate the others**."
---
They lost track of how long they were in the cold water.
They shouted commands until their throats were hoarse and paddled until their shoulders were dislocated.
As they circled the sea, the sun had already risen.
They received food on their paddles and ate it with their hands.
On the first day, everyone ate while **crying**.
By noon, they were still carrying the boats up the mountains. By night, they relentlessly moved back to the sea.
Seoryeong gritted her teeth against the pain that felt like the tendons in her body would snap and supported the inflatable boat.
Every step felt like a burden under the crushing pressure on her body.
Just when it felt like she could fall with a single misstep, Lee Wooshin boarded a boat and played the accordion, causing the people inside to capsize.
He ordered them to hold the paddles, to walk, and to perform UDT exercises—sixty movements in the morning and evening—pushing them without a moment's rest.
Without permission for restroom breaks, they had to urinate in their pants.
Seoryeong ate sparingly to avoid needing to defecate.
When warm chicken porridge was offered for dinner, she was too cold to eat and instead busied herself applying it all over her body.
Her pale face was once again covered in a grim shadow.
Now, they ran with the sun in their eyes.
For **three days**, Seoryeong repeated this sleepless routine.
Her mind—usually filled with the image of Kim Hyeon—was now strangely **empty**.
On the fourth morning, they worked on the tidal flats.
Constantly fighting against the poisonous mud that made their skin swell and turn red, turning their faces black except for their clean white teeth.
After three sleepless days, their dirt-covered bodies reached their limits.
"If anyone falls asleep, the instructors will submerge your face directly into the water."
Startled by this, Seoryeong scrunched up her face tightly.
Lee Wooshin deliberately played classical music, ready to harshly step on anyone who fell asleep.
_Is he crazy...?_
Seoryeong bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to push back the rising nausea.
During Hell Week, Lee Wooshin acted as if he didn't know Seoryeong, yet his gaze was occasionally **unreadable**.
Every time their eyes met, it felt like he was looking at her not as a human, but as mere **prey**.
His sharp gaze—like reading a document—was unsettling even amidst her physical exhaustion.
Despite having gone through Hell Week together, she couldn't shake the feeling that he stood on a different pedestal, **alone**.
"Dong Jiwoo, Han Seoryeong, stand up."
_Damn it... it seems I fell asleep too._
In her half-conscious state, her thoughts raced.
Starting from Thursday, memories began to fade.
Walking, they fell asleep. From then on, they just slept no matter what they were doing.
The boundary between dream and reality blurred. Members moved solely on **instinct**.
From this point, members who started seeing things that weren't there began to appear in earnest.
"Hey, hey, why is that whale opening its mouth?! Everyone, run...!"
A trainee shouted in the silence.
Pulling those whose eyes were blurred and angry, scaring them. Some on land even panicked, thinking ghosts were chasing them.
Seeing the chaos, Seoryeong quietly **smiled**.
Finally, the opportunity had come.
"Song Ukchan."
Calling him softly, her harsh expression softened slightly.
"Ah, seriously...?"
As the members' movements began to slow down due to sleep deprivation, Seoryeong's gaze became increasingly **sharp**.
"I told you. This is all I know."
Striking when the opponent is at their weakest is a basic tactic.
Seoryeong had been patiently waiting for this moment since the first day of Hell Week.
She knew they would turn on each other in the most **brutal** way.
"I don't know how to survive with them, so I'm just trying to **mess them up**."
She exploited emotional vulnerabilities. Made her comrades sensitive. Created confusion. Exacerbated anxiety.
It was all part of her strategy—her way to survive Hell Week.
On that day, Seoryeong ruined the chicken porridge prepared for the team's lunch by putting **mud** in it.
The filthy mud swirled inside the pot, turning the rare comfort into an inedible mess.
It was a deliberate move to starve everyone, crushing their morale.
Her team members recoiled at the toxic act, but Seoryeong merely shrugged.
_Other teams might be using worse tactics. We just need to start doing it._
The instructors knew about such actions but chose to feign ignorance.
There was no military law here. They never emphasized honesty and order.
Instead, they closely observed her team, acknowledging her willingness to use **any means necessary**—as one would in actual enemy territory.
The discomfort reached its peak in the middle of Hell Week.
Seoryeong recalled the personal information of the team members she had memorized beforehand.
Then, she began targeting each team's leader and the members who seemed most vulnerable to manipulation.
When Seoryeong's team members showed weakness, she didn't hesitate to **slap them across the face**.
When it was another group, Song Ukchan would make animalistic noises to intimidate them.
Song Ukchan picked on those suffering from cellulitis and **gouged their wounds**.
He often stomped on their ankles during the tidal flat training.
At the lowest point for his team members, he spread rumors about the Blast Company.
_There's less money than expected. No insurance. If you get injured, they won't even give severance pay—you'll just be dismissed..._
That tactic, combined with Jiwoo's careful and persistent provocations against the already exhausted team members, resulted in small victories.
As a result, Seoryeong's team was the only one that didn't lose a **single member**.
_Now, does it feel somewhat balanced?_
Unknowingly touching her neck that had become sweaty and dirty, Seoryeong whispered to Jiwoo:
_"So that's the nature of the beast..."_
---
Finally, **Sunday afternoon**.
Two hours before the end of Hell Week.
The smell of filth hung in the air as the crew gathered together.
It was like a sewage treatment plant—bodies covered in tidal flat mud and people who had defecated in their pants.
It had truly been a week from **hell**.
Seoryeong's body was broken. She felt sore from all the training and unable to wash.
From head to toe, even her fingernails no longer had their original color.
Nevertheless, the end of hell was finally in sight.
On the long-awaited final day, Seoryeong pulled Dong Jiwoo aside and whispered:
"I think I'm going to faint."
"What?"
Nothing was easy until the very end.
Seoryeong felt dizzy, as if she could collapse at any moment.
She quickly lowered her head between her legs and took deep breaths.
She sometimes told patients at the nursing home to do this.
It was a temporary and crude method, but quickly supplying oxygen to the brain could help.
To focus her mind, Seoryeong drew shapes on the ground with her finger, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself.
However, her body—already at its limit—showed no signs of responding to this trick.
Her ears went dull. Her vision slowly darkened.
_No... How did I endure until now?_
She quickly whispered through her fading consciousness, forcing the words out.
"If I look unconscious, just pretend and don't let them know."
She told Jiwoo beside her.
"Hey!"
"Just act normal. Then, I'll try to wake up on my own."
Jiwoo looked at her like she was **crazy**, but Seoryeong—who had warned of her fainting—remained calm.
"It's okay if only the instructors don't know. Especially, never make eye contact with Instructor Lee Wooshin. It doesn't matter with the other instructors, but **not with Instructor Lee Wooshin**."
She gave her instructions.
"Hey..."
As if a fuse had blown, there was no sound at all.
Seoryeong nervously muttered and groped the ground with her index finger.
"I can wake up. I **will** wake up..."
"Hey, Han Seoryeong!"
"Don't let anyone know... If they find out, we'll all be kicked out."
Jiwoo could only let out a gasping sound from her throat without a loud cry.
At a glance, it was impossible to tell if she was just resting or asleep.
But because she had just asked for something nonsensical, it was easy to see that Seoryeong had actually **fainted**.
Jiwoo calmly composed her expression and idly played with the sand.
Although her shoulders were stiff, her body—which had endured Hell Week with twisted elbows—showed nothing unusual.
But then, in an instant, her throat went dry.
Her heart began to beat uncontrollably.
Cold sweat trickled down her dirty neck.
Instructor Lee Wooshin was walking towards them.