The coat she had thrown landed squarely on the vomit Seoryeong had carelessly left behind.
She began to wonder if she should feel more insulted by what she had just heard—or more ashamed of the mess she had made.
"When the instructor tells you not to resist, you're scared. But when your husband spouts **nonsense**, you support him?"
Lee Wooshin nudged her shoulder lightly as he spoke.
The armrest of the sofa caught her knee, sending her rolling backward. The man climbed on top of her like a predator, grabbing her chin with one hand. Their bodies pressed tightly together—heavy, stiff, unyielding.
Before she could even clench her fist from the unfavorable position, Wooshin sat heavily on her thighs and pelvis, pinning her in place.
His expressionless face was somehow twisted with frustration.
"If you're so **obedient**, why aren't you like that with me?"
The grip on her chin was painful—like he would crush the bone beneath his fingers. When she tried to pull away, his fingers suddenly slipped **into her mouth**.
Her lips parted wide.
Seoryeong blinked in confusion.
His greasy fingers pressed against her tongue, massaging the roof of her mouth. As his slick digits slid over the jagged mucous membranes, Seoryeong involuntarily tilted her head back.
"Ugh—!"
_Is he going for my eye sockets next?_
She remembered the agent he'd tortured with cooking oil.
Seoryeong glared sharply at the man above her, scratching and clawing at his arms and hands with desperate fury. As if wanting to subdue her further, his hot palm pressed firmly against her stomach.
Sensing real danger now, she **bit down** on his fingers—hard enough to sever them.
But the man didn't budge.
He only frowned slightly, then stroked the nape of her neck with an almost soothing, gentle motion.
He had the expression of someone who had just been playfully bitten by a dog.
"Ugh—!"
As his fingers continued to probe the tender flesh inside her mouth, saliva pooled uncontrollably. She tried desperately to suppress the strange panting sound escaping her throat, but her lips parted weakly anyway.
A bizarre, tantalizing sensation crept in.
With each movement of his thick fingers—pulling her tongue, brushing the backs of her teeth—her breath grew warmer. Heavier.
Lee Wooshin, his gaze distant and aloof, stared at her mouth and chin, now slick with saliva.
Their eyes met.
In his gaze, a whirlwind of emotions raged.
For a moment, Seoryeong held her breath.
"Ugh! Instructor—!"
As his fingers probed deeper, touching her **uvula**, she shook her head violently, wincing. It felt like her insides were being churned—like she was about to vomit.
But he only murmured in a calm, clinical voice:
"It's swollen."
"What were you thinking, trying to suck with a mouth like this?"
The man suddenly stopped all movement and stared at her swollen gums, the raw, injured flesh inside her mouth.
Then—as if regaining his composure—he quickly stood up, pulling his instructor's coat back into place.
"Where's the first aid kit?"
She gasped, staring at his retreating back.
The forced break in the atmosphere only intensified the heat radiating from her chest. Her breath came in ragged, confused intervals.
"I don't want to get entangled in messy affairs with you, Instructor."
"It's already too late."
"I don't like confusing relationships."
"A strange reason." He glanced back at her. "Do you consider your boss part of your family lineage?"
"No, but you know—I have a family."
"Ah—"
Lee Wooshin hummed softly, as if it didn't matter to him in the slightest.
He stared calmly at his saliva-covered fingers before grabbing a rag to wipe up the vomit on the floor. His actions were so fluid—so natural—as if this were just another part of some ordinary routine.
Watching him kneel down and quietly clean the mess, Seoryeong felt her mouth suddenly go dry.
_What is with this man?_
The thought that she absolutely **couldn't lose him** began to fill her mind.
They had a strange relationship—one where showing the inside of her mouth wasn't even embarrassing. She could never do that with her husband. With him, she had always feigned shyness, always played the part.
With that realization, the pressure weighing down her pelvis and stomach began to ache. Her heart started to pound.
_Ah. Is this what they call camaraderie?_
Maybe.
Startled by the thought, she quickly shook her head and dismissed it.
"You turned me into a woman who sneaks behind her husband's back," she said sharply, "and you think wiping the floor is enough to fix it?"
"I'm sure **you** were the first one to try sneaking, Agent Han Seoryeong."
"...!"
"Don't you remember that promiscuous record?"
Even as he said this, Lee Wooshin barely glanced at her.
"When oil spills in the kitchen, use paper towels or newspaper first. If it's still slippery, use dish soap..." He sighed midway through, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ha... Can you handle it yourself?"
He continued in a nagging tone, like a parent scolding a child who'd made a mess.
"You're quite something, Miss Han. You know that?"
Seoryeong retorted coldly.
"Yes. I've certainly been through a lot of **trouble**."
"..."
"Do you know how precious and weighty that one moment you ruined earlier was to me?" Her voice sharpened like a blade. "I sacrificed my **entire life** to create that opportunity."
His gaze—which had been avoiding hers—now pierced her intensely.
"I'm not asking you to make up for it. But if you have even a **shred** of conscience left, don't dismiss me from the Special Security Team—no matter what I do after this."
Lee Wooshin's face hardened.
He could sense that this wasn't just an ordinary outburst of emotion.
"If I want to recreate the opportunity lost today, I'll have to do something far more dangerous."
"...!"
"Every time I fail, I have to take a **bigger risk** than before." Her voice was calm, but tinged with desperation. "That's the cliff I'm hanging onto now."
She met his eyes without flinching.
"I'm not asking you to save my life like before. But if you have even a little bit of mercy—don't hinder what I have to do."
It was only then that Lee Wooshin's expression changed.
As if pieces of a puzzle in his head were starting to connect, he chuckled wryly—then suddenly turned serious. A cynical smile and a stern face alternated as he rubbed his face with one hand.
"So that's why you joined the Blast Agency," he murmured, half to himself.
"You endured military training. Kept enduring in the Special Security Team."
"..."
"To learn how to commit **crimes**, huh? Is that what you mean?"
Seoryeong didn't answer. She only stared back unflinchingly.
"And now—just like today—you're trying to bait the National Intelligence Service... for the sake of a black ops agent husband who hasn't even **appeared** before you."
He let the words hang in the air.
"You're challenging the state intelligence agency without fear, just to catch him."
Silence.
"And now you want **me** to keep quiet. To be your accomplice."
Lee Wooshin clenched and then unclenched his fist. His eyes glanced at the messy kitchen floor before he took a deep breath.
From his tightly closed lips, a cold voice emerged.
"But, Agent Han Seoryeong..."
Seoryeong's eyelashes trembled. She tried her best to remain calm.
"I'm sorry. But I cannot grant your request."
"...!"
"You're smart enough to know that your request is **unreasonable**." His tone was firm, measured. "If we're going to do this together, then the deal has to be **fair**."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at the situation carefully."
Lee Wooshin leaned back against the dining table, his posture exuding the characteristic authority of an instructor.
"Agent Han Seoryeong. The moment you picked up the phone earlier, the target was already **gone**. But the NIS continues to psychologically pressure your weak points to make you act according to their wishes."
He let that sink in.
"The balance of power collapsed the moment that call began."
Seoryeong's eyes began to waver.
"And from what I hear, this involves an offshore account. That's not something you can manage on your own. You must have the help of reliable technicians." He paused. "Most likely Heo Channa or Jeong Pilgyu, the information team leader."
Unconsciously, Seoryeong averted her gaze.
Lee Wooshin nodded slightly, as if his guess had been confirmed.
"If thugs had raided your house, you would have made a big fuss. But after taking the initiative and attacking first... why did you only get your husband's **voice**? Why did you end up holding back?"
The question pierced her like a spear.
Lee Wooshin's face grew colder.
Somehow, Seoryeong felt like she was back in the training camp—stripped bare, every weakness exposed.
Her mind blurred.
_I thought I was still in control of everything..._
"It's because I couldn't contact Channa." Her voice was quieter now. "I was afraid she was seriously hurt again—like before."
"Heo Channa isn't hurt in the slightest."
"...!"
"On the way here, I got a message. The Blast Agency's communication network went down for a moment." He tilted his head slightly. "Who do you think did that?"
Seoryeong bit her lip.
_Channa doesn't even know what happened to me._
"Do you see now? **I'm** not the one who messed up this situation. From the beginning, you walked into a trap yourself, Agent Han Seoryeong."
He let the words land with brutal precision.
"Psychologically. Strategically. Even with cheap tricks—you were completely **defeated**."
"..."
"You should have left Heo Channa a long time ago."
Shame crashed over her like a tidal wave. Regret would have to wait.
Anxiety churned within her as she realized she wouldn't be able to persuade Wooshin.
As she bit her lip again, Wooshin gently tapped her forehead—like a teacher scolding a troublesome student.
"Fine. I'll be your accomplice."
"...!"
Seoryeong's eyes widened in disbelief.
"I'll play along in this game. But you have to accept **my** conditions."
"What...?" She swallowed hard. "What are the conditions?"
Lee Wooshin glanced around her house, as if seeing the place for the first time.
Seoryeong straightened up, smoothed her clothes, and swallowed nervously.
For a moment, the man stared at every corner of the apartment—like a contractor assessing a room before renovation.
His gaze finally stopped on an empty photo frame sitting on a shelf.
Seoryeong wiped her sweaty palms on her clothes.
_If he asks about that... what should I say?_
The empty frame used to hold a wedding photo.
_If I tell him that, will Wooshin make me do push-ups in the living room?_
She prayed inwardly that the man wouldn't ask.
Fortunately, Lee Wooshin said nothing about the frame.
Instead, he said—
"I'll have to move into this house."
Seoryeong's mind went blank.