"You may only review the file here, then leave."

President Kang handed them a tablet. Without a word, the two moved only their pupils.

Aside from the name, all client profile fields were left blank.

As they quickly memorized the mission overview and building floor plans, glances occasionally flicked toward the wet stain on Lee Wooshin’s knee.

He flipped through the pages at a brisk pace, as if the mishap never happened. His dry eyes moved from top to bottom and still managed to turn two or three pages at once—impossible to keep up with.

At moments like this, the reality that he had been a NIS black agent struck hard. Just thinking about Kim Hyun—the name thrown away—made Seoryeong’s mood nosedive again.

"The issue is that there’s a high chance the NIS will also be watching this event. I’ve stationed our team to cover every blind spot, but, Team Leader Lee—you’ll need to sit among the NIS invitees and keep an eye on them."

President Kang gave a sharp nod toward Lee Wooshin’s crutch as he issued the order.

***

A strange silence hung in the air as the two returned home.

The smell of new furniture in the new apartment alone made Seoryeong feel sick with rage. Even maintaining her expression required tremendous effort.

What’s more, Wooshin was gripping her hand so tightly it was damp with sweat, all while barely using his own crutch.

The digital door lock beeped shut, and only then did the man part his lips. But before he could speak, Seoryeong shoved against his chest and shook her head first.

"Don’t say it."

"...Say what?"

"You were going to say something like, ‘Stay out of it,’ or ‘It’s too dangerous,’ weren’t you?"

"I haven’t said anything yet."

"I can tell just from your lips. It’s not like I’ve only heard that line once or twice from you."

Wooshin let out a short, bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair. A deep crease formed on his smooth forehead.

"They want a female agent to provide close protection to a male client and even take care of hospitality? Go into the guy’s private room, dress him, escort him to the bathroom, spoon-feed him? That’s sketchy as hell, even from a purely professional standpoint. But from the perspective of her fiancé? It’s fucking bullshit."

"......."

"What kind of old man specifically asks for a young female bodyguard? That’s just not right."

"They said he’s not of sound mind."

She relayed President Kang’s explanation bluntly. Wooshin laughed bitterly, lips curled.

Then he pulled her waist close—his thigh wedging between her legs.

"So if he’s not in his right mind, Han Seoryeong gets more sympathy?"

"What are you talking about—"

"If I’d known, I would’ve played more pitiful, Seoryeong."

"Ugh, let go of me...!"

Seoryeong flinched from the hard thigh deliberately grinding between hers. These days, Wooshin responded too intensely to even the smallest ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) things—clamping down, suffocating her with pressure.

Even though she was the one who proposed, even though she tolerated his insatiable desire to constantly merge bodies—Wooshin never stopped obsessing. That persistent hunger pricked something cold and sharp inside her chest.

She pressed hard on his solar plexus and continued flatly.

"They said the client keeps hurting himself."

"Ah, so that’s the angle? So Han Seoryeong gets all soft and motherly over that?"

"So what if I do."

"......."

"That’s normal. It’s only natural that if you poke flesh, it bleeds."

"No, I mean... Haah... never mind."

She watched him wordlessly as he suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace and exhaled deeply.

"It’s always the ambiguous ones who are the worst. If you were gonna throw me away, you should’ve done it properly. If you were gonna keep me, you should’ve held on right. That half-assed way you acted—there must’ve been some ulterior motive, right?"

"......."

Wooshin swallowed and made direct eye contact again. He didn’t so much as flinch. The light sensor failed to detect movement and shut off. Shrouded in darkness, the two merely stared at each other.

"What exactly did President Kang instruct you to do?"

"Nothing special. Just... listen carefully to whatever the client says. It seems like there’s something wrong with his memory. Whatever it is, the company’s treating it all like intel."

Memory. Intel...

As he repeated the words, Wooshin’s face chilled.

"Do you know why Blast Corp has so few female bodyguards? They did have some, but most were unofficial hires—and they were all sent to Russia. Not a single one is accounted for anymore."

"Why...?"

Russia?

That word once again caught in her throat like a bone.

"They were probably given the same assignment as you. And then they were... dealt with."

"......!"

"It must’ve been ultra-classified. Which means you’re in danger too."

His decisive tone carried conviction. He gripped both of her forearms firmly. A sense of urgency tingled from his skin to hers.

The light sensor flicked on again. Shadow pooled subtly along the bridge of his nose as he leaned in closer.

"And this still feels like I’m being too controlling?"

"......."

"If you wanted a more forgiving husband, I’m sorry. But I don’t trust that company. I’m not handing over my Han Seoryeong to people who treat agents like disposable parts."

His words sounded like they were spat through clenched teeth. She flinched slightly.

"I’ll give you an earpiece the day before the mission."

Without warning, Wooshin swept her off her feet and carried her across the living room.

"W-Wait, Instructor—!"

"Han Seoryeong always wants to do what she’s told not to. So think of it as my version of a safety precaution. If you’re going into that widower’s room, I want a direct line open to me."

"That’s so excessive—!"

"Damn right I’m being excessive. What, you wanna make me a widower the second we get married?"

Her body jerked. Instinctively, she almost averted her gaze—but forced herself to meet his eyes.

The ache in her foot—where he was crushing her instep—was also bothering her. She wrapped her arms around his neck to ease the weight.

"Isn’t Ligai Viktor just a criminal?"

Why is this getting so messy...?

At that, Wooshin raised a brow. Almost like he was surprised she knew that much.

With an unpleasantly stiff face, he turned his head away. His sharply defined jaw clenched.

"You remember what the Special Ops guys used to gossip about?"

The moment he said it, their noisy chatter came flooding back.

Something about the entire family dying in an accident—leaving no heir? A Russian prime minister’s family? And didn’t they say the prime minister’s wife was Korean...?

But the cheerful faces of her fellow agents came to mind more clearly than the actual gossip.

"The tragedy of the Solzhenitsyn family. That client is the one who blew up the mansion."

"......!"

"Bit more than your average criminal, huh?"

He let out a faint, bitter laugh.

Seoryeong caught the subtle shift behind his mask-like smile.

Just how powerful must a man be to obliterate an entire prime ministerial lineage? What kind of malice could fuel that?

She found herself drifting into thoughts that had nothing to do with her.

Wooshin clicked his tongue and set her down on the kitchen table.

"And do you remember where the event’s being held?"

"Ah... Korean Orthodox Church, Daegu diocese."

"Good memory. Which means—if we’re unlucky, Kiya might show up."

Her heart thudded as if she’d been caught stealing.

"I actually wanted to throw a bigger fit about this, but held back for my groom pride. We’ve already burned through one disaster, and I didn’t want worse to come."

Kiya... might come?

What surged up wasn’t fear or discomfort, but anticipation.

The things Kiya once said—things that had seemed like nothing but fanatic babble—were starting to make sense. Seoryeong barely restrained the laugh rising in her throat.

Just when had Kiya figured it all out?

And if they met again—then...

"What are you thinking so hard about now."

A rough hand gripped her chin.

Wooshin gazed deep into her eyes for a long moment. The cold energy between them locked like loaded triggers.

Seoryeong crushed her lips to his. It was just sealing wax—melting into silence.

And yet Wooshin clung to it like it was his last chance. His hot tongue filled her mouth, scraping her slick palate, breathlessly flooding the space between them.

Seoryeong clenched her eyes shut—and imagined herself in a wedding dress.

In some exotic destination, facing him as they pledged eternity. And the only guest to remember that day would be—

She had to meet Kiya again.