Seoryeong quickly wrapped the snare wire around her wrists.
But the man immediately became aware—brushing her hands away and gripping her wrists tightly, as if scolding a misbehaving child.
"You're trying to burn your own instructor's face?"
He showed no fear whatsoever of the fire spreading from the branches toward his ears. Only a cynical smile curved his lips. His gaze alternated between assessing Seoryeong's composure and Song Ukchan's bloodied body tied to the tree, then he pressed his tongue against his inner cheek—as if finally understanding everything.
"Why are you wandering around with someone else's blood all over you, you filthy thing."
As his hand reached for her face, Seoryeong immediately swung her dagger.
Lee Wooshin dodged easily.
She aimed again for his vitals with the heavy blade. His brow rose slightly—surprised—but a satisfied smile formed on his lips.
"A trainee should also be devoted." His voice was almost *fond.* "Our Han Seoryeong is indeed a devoted child."
"Ugh!"
"That makes all my teachings feel worthwhile."
Seoryeong gritted her teeth, suppressing the panic beginning to gnaw at her insides. She ducked to avoid the smoke from the hood still burning on Lee Wooshin's shoulder. She attacked his wrists again, then slammed her elbow toward his groin.
But she was thrown back by his kick to her shoulder.
She quickly got up and threw a punch at his stomach.
Lee Wooshin blocked it with his forearm.
The attack and defense repeated over and over. Seoryeong used everything she had learned—every technique drilled into her muscle memory—but her movements became increasingly *predictable,* and Lee Wooshin grew more agile in dodging.
Frustrated, she launched a spinning kick.
"We should put out that fire together."
"…!"
However, the man caught her ankle mid-swing—and her head slammed into the cold snow.
The piercing cold brought her back to her senses. She immediately swung the snare wire still gripped in her hand.
Although Lee Wooshin dodged quickly, the wire grazed his lips.
He licked the small wound with his tongue, as if savoring the taste of his own blood.
"You used to say my face was too precious to be harmed," he murmured, almost conversationally. "But now you're defiling it?"
"Ugh…!"
Suddenly, the man's hard thighs clamped down on her upper legs, pinning her beneath him. She tried to twist her body to the side, clawing at the snow to escape—but the man's position on top of her was **unshakeable.**
The fire was still burning the straw wrapped around his shoulder. Far from being extinguished by the snow, the flames grew larger as the wind blew.
Now, the entire hood was ablaze.
"Come on! Why don't you take that off first?!"
Seoryeong exclaimed anxiously, worried about sparks falling on her.
"It's said that Han Seoryeong was so worried about her instructor—" His smile widened. "—that she burned him herself."
"…!"
"Why waste it? It's cold. This fire is *useful.*"
"My hair! My **hair,** you idiot!"
Seoryeong screamed in panic. She scooped up snow with both hands and threw it at the fire, but instead hit the man's head repeatedly. Unfortunately, sparks began to burn her winter clothes as well.
Lee Wooshin clicked his tongue, then finally removed the burning hood and plunged it into the snow.
Seoryeong watched the fire slowly die out, and only then could she relax her tense shoulders.
"So. Where did you learn such bad habits?"
Suddenly, the man's thighs squeezed her legs even **tighter.**
"Ugh…!"
It felt like being bitten by a wild beast. Her lower body was compressed so tightly that the blood seemed to stop flowing.
"This instructor never taught you to play around with matchboxes."
"…"
"Where did you get such a *low* trick?"
While enduring the pain, Seoryeong bit her lip. This situation felt ridiculous—pinned between the instructor's thighs like a victim in a trap. But if she forced resistance, her knees could be crushed.
"Don't want to answer, Han Seoryeong?"
"Ugh…!"
"Which bastard taught you this?"
"Myself… *damn*… myself…"
She whispered softly through the pain, but Lee Wooshin didn't believe her. His grip tightened further, making Seoryeong gasp for breath.
"If you were smart enough to fake a rescue request, you should know how to target properly." His tone was cold, laced with undeniable pressure. "What are you proud of if you can only provoke your instructor *halfway?*"
Lee Wooshin looked at Seoryeong with a mocking gaze.
"You woke me up early. Burned my shoulder. Grazed my lip. And now you want to run away with your tail between your legs." He tilted his head. "Who's the captive now?"
He looked at Seoryeong's bloodied face with a displeased expression.
"Stubbornness is fine. But you need to assess the situation first to be strategic." His voice dropped. "Do you want to die in vain?"
"…"
"If I were a *real* enemy, I would have grabbed you first. And you would be the one burning, not me."
His tone was cold as he evaluated her actions.
"Understand?"
"Yes…"
Although feeling humiliated, Seoryeong reluctantly accepted his words.
"If you can't finish something properly—" His gaze bored into hers. "—you'll only receive consequences like this."
Their eyes met at close range.
For some reason, Lee Wooshin's gaze seemed more complex than usual. More *weighted.* Then suddenly, a sharp, cold pain sliced across her face.
"Ugh…! What are you doing…?!"
"And don't contaminate your face with someone else's blood."
Lee Wooshin began rubbing her face with a handful of snow. It was hard to tell if he was cleaning her or scrubbing like sandpaper. The cold snow stung her skin, burning like ice.
"If that blood is from someone else's body, why put it on your face?"
"Stop it!"
"I understand your intentions, but that's a strange habit." His hands didn't stop. "Don't do it again."
Seoryeong tried to turn her face away, but the man's grip was relentless. As she clenched her fists again, Lee Wooshin suddenly frowned.
He leaned down until he was almost touching her nose, staring intently at something.
His voice was low—as if talking to himself.
"Is this what you meant?"
Lee Wooshin suddenly pulled down her collar.
Seoryeong shivered as the cold wind rushed against her exposed skin. He began to rub her neck roughly, as if finding something there.
"Agh!"
Seoryeong groaned in pain, her body spasming. Wooshin tilted his head, looking surprised. With stiff hands, he scooped up cold snow again and rubbed it—this time on her neck, not her face.
Seoryeong's body trembled violently from the freezing temperature. She tried to resist again, but the more she fought, the stronger the pressure became—leaving a burning sensation like being splashed with hot water.
"You were bitten, Seoryeong."
His tone was flat.
But there was something **terribly ominous** hidden beneath it. His gaze pierced sharply.
"Someone bit you. Very seriously."
"…!"
At that moment, she remembered Song Ukchan briefly biting her neck during the struggle. Her eyes unconsciously flickered toward the nearby tree trunk where his body was still tied.
Seeing that reaction, Wooshin smirked softly.
"Ah. So it was *there.*"
His tone was gentle now—like soothing a frightened child.
"I can tell it wasn't a deep bite, but…" He paused. "Where else did he bite you before getting to your neck?"
"What do you mean?"
The man, now supporting himself with both hands on either side of her, stared deeply into her eyes.
"There's always a sequence. Even for a bastard like him." His voice dropped to something dangerous. "Where else were you bitten before your neck?"
"…!"
"Show me everywhere you were bitten."
He exhaled roughly, as if suppressing disgust.
"He pulled at your clothes. Touched your skin. Licked your body with that filthy tongue, didn't he?"
"…!"
Seoryeong's face flushed with shame and anger.
"You're incredibly beautiful—with all those wounds and bruises." His smile widened. "Let's count them together, so the instructor can give you a cold and harsh *punishment.*"
Seoryeong stared at the broadly smiling Wooshin.
Instantly, an urge to **flee** arose from her deepest instincts.
"But what if your husband sees this?"
Lee Wooshin's tone turned almost threatening.
"That runaway bastard of a husband of yours might come back in anger, wouldn't he?"
---
Seoryeong quickly scooped up snow and threw it into the man's eyes.
He wore glasses—making his eyes vulnerable. Wooshin turned his head quickly, and she seized the opportunity to grab his wrists and reverse their positions.
Finally managing to escape from under his body, Seoryeong **ran** as fast as she could without looking back.
*Why am I running?*
*Aren't I the one who's supposed to catch the instructor?*
The thought flickered briefly.
But as soon as she saw the man's figure chasing her like a tiger through the snow—all questions vanished.
*Yes. Because of that face.*
*That crazy face.*
The face that made her keep running until her thighs felt like they were on fire.