"Wooshin. The Mongolian Director of Economic Development was found dead an hour ago."
Upon hearing the heavy voice in his ear, Wooshin's steps faltered as he was about to leave the room.
He had just gotten through a tiring meeting with the Blast Agency executives and could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Under the guise of helping the drunk executives get home, he had secretly plugged **Poison Tap**—a hacking tool—into their phones.
Now, with both hands in his coat pockets, he walked down the dimly lit corridor.
"The Mongolian Director of Economic Development?"
If it was indeed that person, he had come to Korea for the rare earth metals MoU.
_Wasn't the newly recruited Han Seoryeong assigned to that case?_
As far as he knew, the director had even requested personal security from Blast Agency.
But now—he was **dead**.
"The cause of death was a heart attack. But we suspect it was murder."
He glanced at his watch. It was past midnight.
Han Seoryeong, who should have gone home, hadn't contacted her superior or filed a report.
_I can appreciate the girl's cold attitude towards others, but her flexibility is also zero._
Wooshin's brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Mongolia signed the rare earth metals agreement with us because they wanted to break free from Russia's influence. But since the director acted on his own, Russia clearly saw him as a thorn in their side."
"If it was indeed a heart attack, they must have used potassium chloride."
Wooshin closed his eyes, massaging his neck, stiff from fatigue.
"Even if they perform an autopsy, they won't find anything."
"Yeah. Blast Agency just has to pay compensation and it's over. But the National Intelligence Service has to **clean up this mess**. It's a real pain."
He heard the click of a Zippo lighter, followed by the sound of a cigarette being lit.
"Any suspects?"
"...There is. There's a group of people who took the same travel route from the plane to the Seoul Hotel."
"Continue."
"His name is Kia. Twenty-eight years old. Third-generation Korean-Russian, currently a priest in the Russian Orthodox Church."
Wooshin's expression vanished instantly.
The Russian Orthodox Church was a state-owned religious institution—closely tied to power.
As someone who had lived there, a coldness ran down his spine.
"The problem is, he's not an officially ordained priest. Even the academic community doesn't recognize him. They call him a **heretic**."
The Orthodox Church—one of the oldest denominations—was rooted in tradition and conservatism. They had monumental branches all over the world: Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Moscow.
But one branch not recognized by the global Patriarchate was...
"Kia is from the **Sakhalin branch**."
Wooshin's face hardened.
_Of all places... the Sakhalin branch..._
They were ostracized for having no roots and for their brutal, fanatical behavior. Especially the first leader of the Sakhalin branch—who had openly supported the Soviets during the period of chaos—once saying that dying on the battlefield would erase all sins.
With full support from the Soviets, the branch grew rapidly.
How they managed to infiltrate the military and gain a foothold remained a mystery.
But one thing was certain: **its first leader was Korean**.
Black hair. Black eyes.
Even the children he had seen in Winter Castle were all of Korean descent.
Colorful masks. The screeching sound of an old carousel. Swings overgrown with weeds. A deserted unicycle.
All of it flooded his mind, making cold sweat break out on his face.
"That's his official status. But the **real** problem..."
The director's voice sounded strained but filled with a piercing tension.
"That man might be a **Class-1 Boogeyman**."
Wooshin's steps halted abruptly.
"You still remember our agent who was ambushed a few months ago overseas?"
"I remember."
_You kept harping on about it every day._
Besides, he himself had infiltrated Blast Agency to replace the agent who died back then.
There was no way he could forget.
"It's just a guess, but we're pretty sure it was him. For years, global intelligence agencies have been exchanging data, and this is the result: out of ten agents sent, **three** died of heart attacks."
"..."
**Boogeyman** was a term for a hitman specializing in intelligence agents.
"We can't take on Russia alone. For now, the media will report this as a heart attack. But be careful, Wooshin."
A pause.
"The most plausible guess: the agent's identity was leaked to Russia."
It was then that Wooshin realized the director's main purpose was to **warn** him.
"Since when have I ever been safe?" he replied softly, chuckling lightly.
As he exited the bar, he handed his car keys to the valet driver.
But at that moment, the director's previously sharp voice softened—and became much more ominous.
"Oh yeah. Owl also had a run-in with that man."
"...!"
"Not much. Just happened to be in the same place."
Hearing that, he almost cursed out loud.
Even though the alcohol level in his blood was quite high, his usually clear mind wavered for a moment. His blood felt **hotter**, as if the alcohol was starting to react violently in his body.
Working for a military contractor meant unexpected dangers were commonplace.
He had once wanted to get rid of Han Seoryeong—but in the end couldn't. So he kept letting her stay close.
He believed that as long as he trained and supervised her strictly, there would at least be a little protection for her.
"But some Blast Agency security guards also died. That's going to cause a mess there."
_Maybe that too was just arrogance._
Knowing that Seoryeong had encountered a dangerous person in a place outside his surveillance—something inside him **cracked**.
As if his control system had collapsed, letting raw emotions flood in.
He tugged at his coat collar, as if wanting to tear off an invisible tie.
His mouth went dry with an unbidden anxiety.
_I wanted to keep Han Seoryeong away from all this._
_But Kim Hyeon—Kim Hyeon has always been my problem._
"Wooshin... You need to end your undercover mission immediately."
Yes.
He had to make Seoryeong let go of Kim Hyeon—the sooner the better.
He wanted the girl to realize how **futile** that trust was.
But Seoryeong was still blindly refusing to see reality.
As he climbed into the back seat of the car, Wooshin closed his eyes amidst the swirling view. The director's words no longer registered clearly in his ears.
His head sank into the hard headrest, and a heavy breath escaped his lips.
Before he knew it, his expression had returned to coldness.
---
## — The House in the Dark —
Seoryeong, who had passed out immediately after returning home, woke up in the middle of the night.
Her throat was dry.
She tried to push away the blanket as she sat up slowly. She didn't need to fully open her eyes to navigate inside the house—a small comfort when waking up in the middle of the night.
With dragging, bare feet, she walked to the kitchen.
She grabbed a glass at random, filled it from the dispenser, and drank it slowly.
As she was about to return to bed—
"Ah!"
She bumped into something large.
Her sleepiness vanished instantly as she opened her eyes wide and found Lee Wooshin standing there like an old tree.
Her lips parted in surprise, then quickly closed again.
_This is the first time we've met like this since that night._
Pretending to act normal in such an awkward atmosphere required extra effort.
"What are you doing here?"
He stood silently by the wall, as if he had just come in from outside—not even having changed his clothes yet.
Wooshin's gaze was fixed on the same place as usual: the empty wedding frame.
"I couldn't sleep, thinking about having to take Han Seoryeong on a business trip."
He finally began to take off his coat and watch, his face looking deeply contemplative.
"Isn't this house too **quiet**?" he asked dryly, rubbing his face.
Seoryeong wrinkled her nose, smelling something.
She inhaled sharply.
_What was that... a smell?_
"Did you drink?" she asked hesitantly, catching the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.
His usually clear gaze was now slightly blurry—then slowly curved, as if in affirmation.
He leaned against the wall with one shoulder, then looked down at her.
That heavy gaze made Seoryeong nervous. She tried to look away and asked:
"That busy, huh?"
"Once."
"Because of the business trip to the equatorial region?"
"It's not just that. There are many things I have to handle behind the scenes."
"..."
"This world is full of dirty work you don't even know about."
His tone... sounded sharp. Almost **sarcastic**?
Wooshin shifted his gaze back to the empty frame.
Sometimes, he did stare at that blank wall with an unreadable expression. Seoryeong had seen it too many times—a gaze fixed on the frame, then slowly drifting away.
_Maybe it's time to ask directly._
"Are you curious? Why that frame is empty?"
"..."
Wooshin didn't answer.
It wasn't clear if he was truly curious or not. His expression revealed nothing—as if he didn't even care about the frame and was just throwing out a strange question.
"Did you cut your nails?"
"What?"
_What on earth is this now?_
Seoryeong looked at him suspiciously.
_Is he drunk?_
But before she could think further, her hand was suddenly **pulled**.
Wooshin grasped it and pulled her until she was right in front of his face.