His unwavering gaze was so intense it felt unsettling.
Seoryeong instinctively gripped the baton hanging from her belt.
_The man must have mistaken me for someone else._
"Sir. Stop right there. Don't come any closer."
"..."
The man continued to scrutinize her face—his eyes moving slowly from her hair, down to her eyes, nose, lips, chin, and neck.
He looked like he was **memorizing** every detail, with a gaze filled with a despair Seoryeong couldn't understand.
He looked to be in his mid to late twenties—maybe around her age.
But his calm demeanor, evident even in his breathing, made him feel **different**.
Every time he touched the small cross around his neck, his expression became more devout—something rarely seen on the faces of the security officers who spent every day covered in mud with her.
However, still... this was the man who had just committed an indecent act in the women's restroom.
Whether he was corrupt, morally fallen, or just a fraud in religious clothing, Seoryeong remained vigilant.
"There's an official event from the Ministry of Trade, Industry, and Energy going on right now. Your behavior is inappropriate. Please leave quietly."
She paused.
"And wash your hands in the **men's** restroom."
But the man didn't move an inch.
Instead, a strange flicker of emotion appeared in his gloomy black eyes.
Ignoring the warning, he took a step closer.
He swept his long hair back, revealing a smooth forehead—his face looked striking.
"Want to see?"
As he said the word "see," his lips parted, revealing a row of perfectly aligned white teeth.
Too perfect—like they were **artificial**.
Although there were no visible gold fillings or special dental work, there was something unsettling about that smile.
"Come on. Smile. I just want to count your teeth."
Knowing that this man couldn't be reasoned with normally, Seoryeong drew her baton.
Her instincts told her this man wouldn't back down with just words.
She pressed the baton against his chest, pushing him away.
But his expression remained blank, staring at her like a statue.
"Don't like it? Then what's your name?"
His tone sounded natural in Korean—but his way of speaking felt awkward.
His messy hair and clumsy word choice made him seem like an "unfinished" being.
"Have you lived in Korea your whole life? Can't speak Russian?"
From inside the stall, a woman's voice chuckled softly.
"Looks like men's cheesy lines are the same everywhere..."
Seoryeong could hear the sound of stockings being pulled up and clothes being straightened. The woman was getting ready to come out.
The man's narrow eyes flicked briefly towards the sound—sharp for a moment—then returned to Seoryeong with a soft, empty gaze.
His eyelids lowered slightly, making his long eyelashes cast thin shadows.
The uncomfortable feeling deepened.
Seoryeong frowned.
"If you don't get out right now, I'll drag you out **myself**."
"You? Drag **me**?"
His eyes scanned Seoryeong's body—from her shoulders, arms, waist, down to her legs.
"Are you sure you're that strong?"
As soon as those words were spoken, the man knelt down and, without warning, his hand snaked towards the hem of Seoryeong's pants.
As soon as a foreign warmth gripped her shin, Seoryeong kicked his shoulder.
The man staggered, almost falling, but quickly regained his balance.
He looked up at her.
"Ah—"
A stiff groan escaped his lips.
Then, he began to look at his own hand, his expression hardening.
_Is he really just a pervert?_
Seoryeong couldn't hold back anymore. She pressed the earpiece button.
"Senior, this is Zone 2-B. There's a pervert in the women's restroom who refuses to leave."
"What?"
"It doesn't look like he intends to leave on his own. Should I handle it?"
Silence.
"He's wearing a **priest's** robe."
Seoryeong tapped the silent earpiece a few times, then continued.
"There's no rule against taking action against a priest, right?"
"Uh, well, no, but..."
Although her superior's response sounded hesitant, Seoryeong gripped her baton tighter.
"In that case, I'll subdue him and hand him over."
As the man reached out again, Seoryeong didn't hesitate to strike him with the baton.
She kicked his chest, intending to knock him down.
However, the man stood up quickly, caught her arm, and slammed it against the wall.
At the same time, he pulled Seoryeong's hair—**crack**—a few strands were ripped out.
All of this happened in an instant.
"Ugh!"
She gritted her teeth against the pain in her scalp.
But before she could move again, the man backed away.
He clutched Seoryeong's torn-out hair, then raised both hands as if surrendering.
His attitude seemed to say: _Enough for today._
"What the **hell** are you doing?"
Seoryeong asked, loosening the tight belt around her waist.
"Didn't I tell you to do this—"
"..."
"Do this—"
The man clutched his cross necklace and smiled.
Among his white teeth, one canine tooth looked sharper than the others.
However, unlike someone she once knew—who suited such a smile—this "priest's" smile felt **terrifying**.
"Throw that on the floor,"
Seoryeong said, pointing to the hair still clutched in the man's hand.
She tapped his hand with her baton—but the man suddenly closed the distance she had just created.
He leaned down, tilted his head, and then—
His red tongue slowly licked the side of Seoryeong's cheek.
"――!"
Seoryeong immediately struck his neck and slammed her knee into his stomach **hard**.
But the more she hit him, the redder the man's face became.
The once calm gaze now shone with a strange and inexplicable **excitement**.
"_Я люблю трахаться с такой женщиной, как ты._"
"...!"
_I like to fuck a woman like you._
Seoryeong frowned at the Russian.
The language she had to learn in high school after their coach announced only a select few would be sent to Moscow for advanced training.
While her classmates struggled to read the Cyrillic alphabet, Seoryeong quickly mastered it and could read with ease.
The man looked at Seoryeong's black hair, her sharp eyes, and her shins hidden beneath her pants—before finally turning and leaving the room.
The restroom was silent.
"Hah! That guy was really **weird**."
Seoryeong wasn't sure if she should chase after the man or just let it go—but at that moment, a woman came out of the stall.
"Besides the MoU event, there's also a fundraiser for a relief organization in the other center. So, this place is full of priests."
The woman smoothed her disheveled hair in front of the mirror.
"That one earlier, in particular, is from the Russian Orthodox Church. Better not to mess with him." She paused. "Honestly, he was just hanging out with me. Except for his strange tastes, there wasn't anything too suspicious."
Even though the man had committed an indecent act in public, it didn't seem to threaten the security of the event.
But for some reason, Seoryeong still felt **uneasy**.
She splashed her face with cold water.
It wasn't just because of disgust or feeling dirty. There was something else—something inexplicable.
Her heart felt uneasy, and the man's face, which she had only seen briefly, kept flashing in her mind.
"While we were together, he never let go of my shin. Not licking or biting, just constantly pressing on my shin. Don't you think that's strange?"
The woman in the mirror was beautiful, with black hair and dark eyes.
Standing next to her, Seoryeong realized that the woman's large eyes were strangely similar to her own.
---
## — The Night Deepens —
"Father, forgive this sinner. As I deliver his futile life to You through pain, soothe his despair and fear. Show Your love through me."
A young priest, dressed in a long black robe, whispered softly while tightly clutching a pair of wrinkled hands.
He held them so firmly that the skin looked bluish from the stopped blood flow.
The man lying on the bed, after swallowing zolpidem, was already unconscious and fast asleep.
With a cold and flat face, the priest wiped away the remaining tears with his fingertips.
Then, he opened the cross hanging around his neck—inside, a sharp needle was hidden.
"Father! Today I saw another woman who looks like Sonya."
While injecting an overdose of potassium chloride into the man's neck, he continued to speak.
"My partner, who disappeared. My partner, Father!"
As the syringe emptied, the middle-aged man's eyes suddenly snapped open.
He began to choke, gasping for air.
The young priest watched the fear creeping into his eyes and whispered softly.
"She vanished just like that, without a trace. Leaving me all alone." His voice cracked. "She was everything to me. Sonya was the **only one** for me."
He pressed the plunger deeper.
The man's veins bulged, and the weak, suffocated sounds finally subsided. His pupils began to dilate—but the priest's prayer hadn't stopped.
"Damn it, Father. I **will** find her."
Tears welled up in his eyes as he reattached the cross and kissed it lovingly.
"I will find her—even if I have to comb the entire world."
In the hotel window reflecting the glittering night lights, the bodies of several security guards he had killed were visible.
Having finished his task, the priest rose silently.
He bowed his head, remembering the strands of hair he had pulled out that morning.
_Please... this time it has to be her._
That night sank deep into sin.