"I really wanted you to do it."
---
## — Four Years Ago —
## — Private Prison, Myanmar —
Deputy Director Joo Seolheon arrived carrying a file with something slipped inside.
At that time, upon receiving intelligence that the Myanmar military dictatorship was beginning to mobilize again, Lee Wooshin had been infiltrating local authorities to assess the situation accurately. Usually, he disappeared without a trace after completing a mission—a ghost who left nothing behind but results.
But this time, he was killing time in that private prison, waiting for the next set of orders to come down.
"This is your next target."
Deputy Director Joo's voice was clipped, professional.
"Temporary code name: **Owl**."
This was the first time since his recruitment that Deputy Director Joo Seolheon herself had come to see him in person.
Lee Wooshin rubbed his cleanly shaved head without a word, then climbed into the waiting vehicle. As soon as he carelessly tore open the envelope, photographs of a woman he had never seen before spilled across his lap.
With a lazy gaze, he read the brief dossier one line at a time—missing nothing.
_Orphan._
_Dropout._
_Ah—still very young, too._
An expressionless face that spent almost every waking hour in a nursing home. A neatly ironed white uniform. A gaze that hung somewhere between sad and cold, depending on the angle of light.
She looked like a babe in arms—fragile, untouched by the world. But there wasn't a hint of **life** in her face. Instead of a smile, tears might have been more fitting.
That thought crossed his mind briefly and then vanished.
"What do you want me to do with a girl like this?"
"Marry her."
Upon hearing that, he chuckled softly.
He had been on many missions throughout his career—assassinations, infiltrations, extractions, interrogations. But he had never once been ordered to **marry**.
As he laughed again at the absurdity of it, Deputy Director Joo frowned.
"No matter how messed up your life is, you must know what a husband means, right?"
"Isn't that just a country dog who expects food to be prepared every time he comes home?"
"..."
Joo Seolheon sighed and handed over one more photograph.
The face of a man with a gloomy, deeply lined gaze stared back at him.
Instantly, Lee Wooshin's expression turned to **ice**.
The man in the photo was someone he couldn't possibly fail to recognize. A figure whose name had once been whispered across both Russia and Korea—sometimes in fear, sometimes in grudging admiration.
"Rigai Viktor has been released through a special pardon from Russia."
"...!"
The photograph crumpled in Lee Wooshin's fist.
---
## — The Winter Palace —
_The Solzhenitsyn family tragedy._
He still had nightmares about it—even now, like a child who never outgrew his terrors.
The luxurious residence, reduced to ashes.
The screams of the invited guests, vanishing in an instant.
About seventy Russian politicians. Thirty-eight relatives of the Solzhenitsyn family. More than forty workers. All of them—**burned alive** amidst the chaos.
He remembered sifting through the black ashes with his bare hands. Scattered body parts lay before his eyes like offerings to some cruel god.
The continuous booming sounds had damaged his eardrums. His body, covered in blood and ash, reflected light like spilled oil. Every time he crawled across the ground, something **soft** blocked his way.
His grandfather's severed limbs.
His uncles' heads.
The shoes of cousins his own age.
But the boy didn't cry.
Didn't stop.
Only the rapid beating of his heart beneath his throat forced him to keep going.
He crawled relentlessly—passing one corpse after another, checking the faces of his birthday party guests.
_The child... where is the child..._
The worst bomb explosion in modern Russian history. It occurred at his **fourteenth birthday party**.
The Winter Palace—the pride of the Solzhenitsyn family—collapsed just like that.
His grandfather, known as the **"Brain of Siberia."** His Korean-blooded grandmother. The fruit of their difficult, forbidden love became nothing more than a tragedy favored by gossip enthusiasts.
The ancient noble family that once supported the Russian empire turned to ashes in a single night.
Only **one person** survived.
The Prime Minister's grandson—the boy who had hosted the birthday party.
---
"After being released, that person will definitely start looking for his daughter."
"...!"
_He had a daughter?_
His stomach felt like it had been sharply cut.
After the bombing tragedy, the fact that the only heir to the Solzhenitsyn family was still a minor had been a curse in itself. His life as a wanderer began from that moment.
To escape the relentless threats, he surrendered himself to South African mercenaries—trading protection and care for his service. His skills. His willingness to kill.
After leaving Russia like that, Lee Wooshin's life transformed into a battlefield of slaughter and survival. But the unresolved burden of his past repeatedly revived him on the brink of death.
He **couldn't** die.
Not yet.
"—."
His gaze returned to the woman's photograph. Cold now. Calculating.
_An elite terrorist who destroyed the Winter Palace and caused more than a hundred casualties._
_Currently sentenced to death and imprisoned._
_A second-generation Korean. The top graduate of Moscow University._
_Rigai Viktor._
_The daughter of that genius monster, huh._
It was only then that Lee Wooshin realized why this mission had been given to **him**—and not someone else.
He laughed.
Because only he could approach Rigai's daughter with a sweet face, then abandon her mercilessly.
Because he **wouldn't** waver from pity or compassion.
"Listen carefully, Lee Wooshin."
Deputy Director Joo's voice hardened.
"No matter what happens—**never** let the two of them meet."
"..."
"Not even for a moment. Not even for the blink of an eye. Their gazes must **not** meet."
That meaningful warning made Lee Wooshin's brow furrow slightly.
"We even plan to make her temporarily blind, so she can't see."
"...!"
Lee Wooshin whistled sharply—a sound that was equal parts admiration and criticism. But Joo Seolheon's cold expression didn't change. Her confident face showed no trace of guilt.
"If they meet, what's supposed to happen that would cause such a fuss?"
When he asked in a casual tone, the Deputy Director fell silent.
The silence stretched for a considerable time before she finally spoke.
"...Indeed, the world will become more chaotic than it is now."
Turning to face her, it was clear she had no intention of elaborating further. Lee Wooshin immediately slouched back in his seat, his expression bored.
Half of his life had been wasted at the bottom of existence, and as time passed, his interest in the world faded more and more.
In a system that revolved around HUMINT—human intelligence—he was just a small cog in the machine.
Receive tasks.
Execute them.
Beyond that, nothing else mattered.
Lee Wooshin only remembered the last scene of that terrible winter.
---
"Rigai Viktor is an extremely suspicious person."
Deputy Director Joo continued her briefing, her tone clinical.
"Even though Russia held him in solitary confinement and monitored him closely, he refused to eat for extended periods due to excessive caution."
"..."
"If Rigai starts seriously searching for his daughter, America or Russia will realize it immediately. I have absolutely **no** intention of letting the Owl fall into the hands of another country. Before that happens, we will take the first step and secure both individuals."
_There was something special about this father and daughter..._
Lee Wooshin stared at the woman in the photograph with sharp, assessing eyes. However, even as he studied her features, she seemed utterly **ordinary** for the daughter of Rigai Viktor.
There was nothing remarkable about her background. Her life appeared boring—as if she had grown up normally, without anything extraordinary happening to her.
Her father was the one who bombed the Winter Palace and killed hundreds of people. He had been sentenced to death.
Meanwhile, his daughter was taking care of **dying people** in a nursing home.
_What was going on?_
Lee Wooshin chuckled softly at the irony.
"It's unpredictable when and how Rigai will appear. Therefore, we are forming a team to control and monitor the area around the Owl..."
Deputy Director Joo paused, her eyes narrowing.
"Wooshin. Are you listening?"
"..."
The Owl—true to her code name—blinked her large eyes in the photograph, staring sharply at the camera lens.
_Very white skin._
_A slender face._
_Wrists so transparent her veins were visible._
_Cheeks that looked calm—not easily surprised or impressed._
_A thin neck adorned with fine, loose strands of hair._
Lee Wooshin casually licked his lower lip.
From the beginning, his eyes were drawn to that clearly visible spot on her throat. Something about the vulnerability of it held his attention.
Seeing him daydreaming, Deputy Director Joo tapped her fingers loudly against the armrest and issued a sharp warning.
"Meet the Owl and make sure you approach Rigai naturally as well. There's no one more suitable than a **husband** to accomplish that. This could be a long-term operation—you need to be prepared."
"Do I **have** to marry her?"
"...What?"
"You told me to be her husband."
Lee Wooshin touched the woman's photograph with his fingers, his tone nonchalant—almost bored.
The visible white teeth behind his acne-scarred disguise seemed strangely out of place. Deputy Director Joo fell silent for a moment before nodding curtly.
Meanwhile, Lee Wooshin massaged his stiff shoulders and spoke softly.
"It seems like I don't know who to pity more now—the Owl, or me."
"What do you mean?"
"One side doesn't seem to know who her father is..."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"...while the other is being told to sleep beside the daughter of a death row inmate who **ruined my life**."
His voice dropped lower.
"Who is more tragic?"
Although the position of *husband* felt utterly foreign, such activities were already a frequent part of intelligence work. Honeypots. Long-term covers. Manufactured intimacy.
However, this mission began to cultivate a slight resentment—one that slowly developed into **poison**.
If he had to sleep next to this woman every night...
It would feel like lying in the ruins of that terrible Winter Palace.
_Nevertheless..._
If he could meet Rigai directly, wouldn't there be a possibility of uncovering **one piece** of the secret buried beneath those ashes? The truth about what really happened that night?
At that moment, Deputy Director Joo's voice cut through his thoughts again.
"Keep all forces away from the Owl. And protect the daughter **from** her father."