“You used to hold me often when I was little, Young Master.”

His temple throbbed tight. For a moment, the corners of his eyes stiffened white, but Lee Wooshin quickly suppressed the surge of emotion.

“You gave me food, snuck me goose-down blankets, and when I was too weak to stand, you’d lift me up without a word. I was nothing but skin and bones back then... My head ached from the mask—it was so heavy—but I still remember. Those gray eyes.”

“...!”

“I wondered where you'd been hiding, only to find you'd latched onto Korea.”

“......”

“I clung even harder to Russia.”

A rat from Winter Castle—small, pitiful, faceless. So scrawny and unremarkable he hadn’t even been sure of the gender.

At Kiya’s tone, Lee Wooshin’s face hardened. Thick tendons rose on the back of his hand gripping the cord. Brow furrowed, he pushed the swirl of confusion aside.

“If you were really in Winter Castle... how the hell are you still alive?”

“......”

“There was nothing left of it. It exploded without a trace.”

“You really know nothing, Young Master.”

“......”

“Is that why Father used to say he pitied you?”

Wooshin wordlessly wrapped the cord around his hand one more time. Kiya choked out a rough sound. But it was Wooshin himself who could hardly breathe.

One word from Kiya and the ground beneath him buckled. His fingers, poised to kill, slackened—then clenched with renewed violence. Two conflicting instincts collided within him.

If he'd survived all this time, then that should’ve been enough. It should’ve ended there. But this bastard wasn’t someone who could be left alive.

Wooshin bit the inside of his cheek and looped the extension cord once more around Kiya’s wrist.

“Then speak properly. What exactly was Winter Castle?”

“Kuh... You really want to know?”

Kiya was turning a deep shade of red at the neck, yet his grin remained disturbingly vivid. Wooshin searched the priest’s robes, pulling out all seven hidden blades and tossing them under the bed.

“There aren’t many left now. People who remember that day.”

“...!”

“Which makes me kind of a walking classified document.”

Wooshin’s hand paused.

“There’s only me. I’m the only one whose head stayed intact. So you’d better treat me right.”

“......”

“See? Sonia’s just like that—kek—she doesn’t know a thing.”

That creeping sense of dread proved itself once again. There was no longer any doubt that the “pair” Kiya had been searching for was Seoryeong. Wooshin stared holes into his mouth, seeking a definitive answer.

Then, without warning, an image flashed across his mind—Kiya’s lips, suckling hungrily at Seoryeong’s chest, her mouth. His skull felt like it was boiling.

If he didn’t deal with this right now, it would come back to devour him. He would lose the most important thing.

His palm was already damp. It wasn’t a dream, but it felt like the nightmare was continuing. Anxiety ballooned inside him, ready to burst.

“Let’s not try to wake Sonia up.”

“...!”

To Kiya, she was Sonia—but to him, she had to be Han Seoryeong. He had invoked Kim Hyeon on purpose, to anchor her sanity. That it was the only method he had left a bitter taste, but there was still no one else who could fill that role.

“Whoever was in Winter Castle...―”

What he wanted to protect was her. Only her. If he had to choose between the two, he wouldn’t hesitate: he’d choose the present.

The moment he made that cold decision—Kiya lunged with the cross raised like a dagger. A syringe needle popped out, aimed straight for the strike. Wooshin twisted his body reflexively, but the skin beneath his eye was sliced clean open.

Blood spattered. As he blinked reflexively, the priest licked his lips and landed a brutal kick.

They collided again, bodies crashing like they meant to kill. Bang, bang—skulls hit glass, limbs entangled, each gripping the other’s throat as they tumbled to the floor.

Knock, knock—

Someone rapped at the door.

“Instructor?”

“...!”

“...!”

Both men froze at once. That familiar voice snapped their heads toward the door.

“Instructor, are you asleep?”

Wooshin immediately shifted position and clamped a hand over Kiya’s mouth. Mmph...! He’d expected him to scream, but instead Kiya held his breath too, eyes rolling madly in their sockets.

The doorknob rattled, but the lock held firm.

“Are you really sleeping?”

Her calm voice made his heart thump uncontrollably.

“Mmm, ah, ah...!”

Her heat-laced moans echoed in his ears. With them came the same anger, loss, and despair as before—rising like a pillar of flame.

Not some noble selflessness for her sake—but the ugly, selfish truth underneath.

It had been a dream. But it hadn’t. Those maddening urges were still very much alive inside him. His throat was parched. The vile sensation refused to dissipate.

“Then let’s talk tomorrow.”

Her measured footsteps receded. As she walked away, the two men—who had frozen like corpses—once again moved in perfect synchronization.

Wooshin leveled his gun.

Kiya snatched a fallen blade.

Both weapons pressed into the other’s chest.

“You still haven’t answered. What happened in Winter Castle?”

“I don’t like talking for free.”

That mockery earned only a small nod from Wooshin. Then he grabbed a pillow and shoved it against Kiya’s forearm—pulled the trigger.

“Guh...!”

The pillow burst with a round bullet hole; tufts of stuffing exploded out. Shhhhk—! At the same time, Kiya hurled his knife and sliced Wooshin’s earlobe open.

Fuck...! But neither man’s eyes wavered. They stared each other down, dead calm.

“......”

“......”

Come to think of it, that filthy red tongue... had licked Seoryeong.

Expression colder than ever, Wooshin struck Kiya’s teeth like a hammer—then shoved the barrel of the gun between them.

Blood seeped between the gaps in his teeth. Wooshin’s mouth curled at the sight. Gkk, kek, cough...! At the sputtering sound, he eased back the barrel slightly.

“Then bring me that face. The one who looks like Sonia’s husband.”

“...!”

“I’ll count that as your price.”

Kiya licked the blood from his front teeth like it was strawberry jam. Wooshin slammed him down again and reloaded. This time, he pressed the pillow to Kiya’s belly and aimed low.

Kiya added:

“Maxim Solzhenitsyn. You know what the Prime Minister did with the Sakhalin kids? What we did in Winter Castle—”

The barrel trembled.

“Bring me that agent’s face. Then I’ll behave.”

***

The following day, the team began preparing to escort the children.

They holstered pistols at both sides, then draped their robes to hide them. Until the time came, they stood guard over the children /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ in shifts, taking turns eating.

They lingered silently in the basement. No need for brute force, no specific tasks to perform.

The night before, just before falling asleep, Seoryeong had replayed Wooshin’s expression over and over. Was it after he saw the children? His face had changed suddenly...

She’d tossed and turned until she finally went to his room, only to return empty-handed before dawn. Thankfully, she’d slept well afterward.

“By the way, did any of you hear something strange last night?”

It was Jin Hoje who spoke softly.

“It was so loud, I ended up patrolling the hall myself.”

“......”

“But when I listened closely, haah... It wasn’t anything serious. Just desks creaking, beds squeaking... what the hell were they doing? Running around from one room to the next with all that thumping. I don’t know what floor it came from, but these cult bastards—swearing off sex? Bullshit. They’re all cheating behind their partners’ backs and screwing around every night!”

At that, Seoryeong’s gaze landed on Wooshin—slumped in a chair. Not lying down, not sitting, just collapsed in a strange, cavernous posture. Whatever tremor she’d sensed in him yesterday had vanished.

When he slowly opened his eyes, the cut beneath them stood out sharply—like a red hairline crack. Clearly someone had laid hands on him.

The team had made a fuss about his wound that morning, but he dismissed their noise with cold indifference.

A little higher and it would've gouged his eyeball. Without realizing, Seoryeong approached. Her face had gone cold.

She bent down and whispered in his ear.

“Instructor, who bit your ear?”

“...!”

She touched the gauze slightly, and the man gave a dry chuckle.

“What if someone did?”

He flicked his foot, like asking and what would you do about it? It left her feeling tight in the chest. Annoyed, for some reason.

Seoryeong closed her mouth and took a slow, deep breath. He had scratches on his face—but what about the rest of him? Was his body unharmed? 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

She scanned him intently, as if trying to see through his clothes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I want to strip you.”

“...What?”

He ran a finger over the arch of his eyebrow, then slowly opened his eyes again.

“The room where the bed was squeaking—that was yours, wasn’t it?”

“...!”

“You think I wouldn’t know?”

The man let out a dry breath, muttering to himself like he couldn’t believe who was saying what to whom.

With hands still crusted in frustration, he raked back his bangs. As he exhaled and massaged the back of his neck, his thick Adam’s apple bobbed slowly.

“Han Seoryeong. Last night, I had a nightmare. A snake—completely stiff—showed up.”

“...Excuse me?”

“And then it slithered into somewhere it really shouldn’t have.”

“So you got bitten?”

“No, the one who got bitten wasn’t me, huff... never mind.”

Whatever thought crossed his mind made his brow twist into something ugly.

“So here’s what I’m saying. Once this mission’s over... how about we go somewhere far away?”

“...Huh?”

“You and me. Let’s get out of this fucked-up world.”

Her cold gaze locked onto him, piercing and emotionless.