"Anyway, I'm just relieved nothing happened."
Just then, Hoje approached, shaking his tumbler, and sat down right next to Seoryeong.
He gulped down his protein shake, leaving a residue on his lips that looked like a cat's whiskers.
Seeing it made Seoryeong smile—but for some reason, one of her cheeks started to sting.
As she was about to turn towards the gaze she felt, Yoo Dawit groaned and collapsed onto the desk.
Judging by the muscles bulging beneath his sleeveless shirt despite the cold weather, it seemed he had been training hard since morning.
Seoryeong glanced at the cross-shaped earring in her senior's ear and suddenly asked:
"By the way, you once said you went to seminary, right?"
"Yeah."
Yoo Dawit nodded slowly, raising his upper body.
"I saw a pastor yesterday, but his clothes were a bit strange."
"What did they look like?"
"Black, with long vertical patterns from the chest to the knees."
"...!"
Yoo Dawit's brow furrowed.
_In a priest's robe?_ he murmured.
"A cross and something that looked like an eagle's beak mixed with strange letters."
"Maybe this?"
He took out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then showed a picture to Seoryeong.
It was a photo of several priests wearing stiff, boxy hats. In the center of the hat was yellow embroidery that could have been an eagle—or something gold.
As Seoryeong nodded, Yoo Dawit tied his chin-length hair into a loose ponytail with a hair tie and said:
"That's the Russian Orthodox Church. But the Sakhalin branch is considered **heretical**."
"Heretical?"
"Maybe because of their radical tone."
"..."
"They consistently supported the war. The Soviet Union used to be harsh on religion, but this branch secretly survived and thrived. Although now, they say, their power has weakened—just a shadow of the past."
Actually, the pastor she saw wasn't a big deal.
But even though she had only caught a glimpse of his face, his sharp gaze and stiff way of speaking kept replaying in her mind.
And each time, it left an uncomfortable feeling.
"But you saw a pastor from Sakhalin?"
"Yes. He left quite an impression."
"His clothes?"
"No. The pastor himself was inappropriate. And..."
Seoryeong scratched her temple, hesitating whether she should say this—but finally spoke calmly.
"He suddenly licked my cheek."
As soon as she said that, a loud **crashing** sound came from the direction of the window.
But Seoryeong didn't have time to see what caused it because everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed over.
Ki Taemin, who had been wearing an eye mask for a massage, immediately jumped up. Hoje choked on his drink.
"Wait—are you talking about the pervert at the event? The one in the women's restroom?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you arrest him right then and there?!"
Ki Taemin exploded in anger—very different from when he spoke through the earpiece—but Seoryeong just shrugged.
"He left quickly. Nothing else happened," she added, sipping her tea.
Then, Yoo Dawit, who had seemed to be deep in thought, suddenly joined the conversation.
"I'd like to add something. In Daniel 2:44, it's written, 'It will crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end, but it itself will endure forever.' It seems the Sakhalin branch is very obsessed with this verse. This verse is interpreted differently in each religious group. And if I may share my thoughts further—"
"Ah! He's starting again!"
Hoje exclaimed, wrinkling his face and waving lazily.
"Listening to that stuff gives me a headache!"
"Just unleash all your fanboying in the chat group!"
Hoje grumbled, shuddering.
As the two bickered, Seoryeong glanced around as if wanting to distance herself from the conversation.
Involuntarily, her gaze fell on Lee Wooshin, who was staring out the window.
Despite the noisy atmosphere around him, he looked cold and distant—completely unaffected by the commotion.
Even though only his back was visible, for some reason, Seoryeong felt she could **sense** his mood.
_Was he... in a bad mood?_
Seoryeong's brow furrowed slightly.
"Hey, just read us the bomb-making manual. That'd be way more interesting!"
Hoje said, leaning back and crossing his fingers behind his head.
"Huft! I don't know about the rest, but when I think of Russia, all I know is that prime minister. Sol... Sol... A famous family, I think. He married a younger Korean woman, right? They say there's a big age difference."
"Twelve years."
Ki Taemin interjected, filling the silence while putting his eye mask back on.
Suddenly, Lee Wooshin, who had been silent, started rotating his neck left and right.
He took a deep breath and shifted his body, as if feeling uncomfortable.
Every movement made his shoulder blades clearly visible beneath his tight training uniform.
Seoryeong couldn't take her eyes off those subtle movements, then glanced back at the group of agents.
Suddenly, Hoje dragged his chair closer, reducing the distance between them.
"Wait! Agent Han Seoryeong, you haven't heard this story yet?" he asked, his voice suddenly loud and enthusiastic.
"Well, love affairs are my specialty!"
Hoje beamed, throwing his empty tumbler towards Yoo Dawit.
He leaned forward, gripping the armrests of his chair so his face was level with Seoryeong's. His movement completely blocked Seoryeong's view of Lee Wooshin.
"So, there used to be this guy. During the Soviet era, he was called the brain of Siberia. But..."
Hoje scratched his chin, hesitating.
"So, when he was young, he suddenly brought home an underage Asian girl. Of course, his family was furious. It was a huge scandal. But because he was stubborn, no warnings or threats worked. They had children and lived well. But the problem was—"
"Everyone out."
A cold voice suddenly cut through the atmosphere.
All the agents immediately turned towards their Team Leader, who was now staring sharply at them.
Lee Wooshin's gaze was as cold as ice as he gave his next command.
"Everyone out. Except Agent Han Seoryeong."
His voice was short and firm.
"Close the blinds and lock the door."
---
As the agents filed out one by one, the room was instantly filled with a suffocating silence.
Now only the two of them remained.
Lee Wooshin placed the folder he had been holding on the desk, then picked it up and put it back down, looking at her intently.
Letting someone stand stiffly in a choking silence was a form of torture in itself.
As Seoryeong swallowed nervously, he finally spoke in a low voice.
"You said that pastor licked your cheek."
"Excuse me?"
"Which side. Left or right?"
He approached and suddenly grabbed her face roughly, pulling it towards him.
"Agent Han Seoryeong, I really **dislike** things like this."
"..."
"So, look me in the eye and give me a clear statement. Exactly where and how did he lick you?"
"Uh!"
But before she could answer, Lee Wooshin's thick palm began to rub her cheek roughly.
_Ugh!_
A groan escaped Seoryeong's mouth.
His touch was so harsh, it felt like he wanted to **peel off** her facial skin.
Seoryeong tried to fight his grip, but the man only frowned without changing his stern expression.
Unable to bear it any longer, she shouted.
"The left side! He even pulled my hair, but what does that matter?!"
Finally, the aggressive rubbing stopped.
But—
"He pulled your hair?"
The room temperature suddenly seemed to drop several degrees.
Even though Lee Wooshin was wearing his usual contact lenses, his eyes looked unsteady—as if something was bothering him.
A cold atmosphere enveloped the room.
As Seoryeong looked into his eyes at close range, she added, almost defensively:
"I was also a bit surprised. I've never seen someone in a priest's robe act like that."
"That priest..."
He was about to continue, but suddenly fell silent—as if his words had been cut off.
Lee Wooshin turned his face away, closed his eyes, and exhaled a long breath, holding something back.
His tense muscles briefly brushed against Seoryeong's arm.
When he opened his eyes again, his face was blank as he asked:
"Did you talk to that bastard?"
"Calling him a bastard is a bit..."
Seoryeong immediately shut her mouth, knowing she shouldn't mention kicking him in the shins.
"I tried to catch him right away, but he just licked my cheek and left."
"..."
"It felt... a bit anticlimactic."
Suddenly, a strong grip returned to her face.
_He isn't going to explode, is he?!_
Seoryeong winced and pounded on his arm—but it seemed Lee Wooshin wasn't aware of how hard he was squeezing.
Then, without warning, he tilted his head and **bit** her cheek hard.
The suction was so strong it left a round bruise.
"――!"
Seoryeong tried to kick his knee, but Lee Wooshin easily dodged.
With a surprisingly loud sound, he released the bite.
Her cheek stung—red and now bearing the mark of his teeth.
She looked at the man in confusion, her mouth half-open.
"Did you think I was joking?"
"What?"
"I told you. Just look at what's in front of you. Not some other man."
"...!"
Her eyelashes trembled.
Maybe from the beginning—since he had been staring out the window—Lee Wooshin had been different.
The heat radiating from him seemed to spread, making Seoryeong's heart sink.
"Why do you keep messing with my head like this?"
"..."
"Do you know how often you **erode** my patience? Bitten by another man. Licked by that priest. And when I wasn't around, you were beaten until your blood vessels almost burst."
His gaze stopped on the fading bruises on Seoryeong's body.
"I don't like that."
"...!"
"I hate only being able to stand by and watch like an **outsider**."
_What... what does all this mean?_
Seoryeong's face turned somber, trying to understand his words.
_This doesn't make sense._
"I should have had everything for myself. But now, I just look like a fool—unable to even speak."
His sharp gaze became firmer, as if he had made a decision.
He walked back to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a small pistol.
He quickly loaded the magazine into the empty chamber, then handed it to her.
The cold weight of the weapon made Seoryeong's body tense.
"I can't carve into your cheek, can I?"
He approached again.
The unfamiliar scent of soap touched her nose.
His large hand grasped her cheek, pulling her so close their breaths mingled.
"If you hate this, just shoot me."
He exhaled sharply—
And then his lips **crashed** onto Seoryeong's.
His tongue forced its way into her mouth.