The recruits were glancing back and forth between the instructor and Seoryeong like men whose urethras had been clogged and couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time.

Please, just let the instructor stay drowsy...! Let him keep picking on us instead of her...! Don’t ask unnecessary questions and draw his attention, you idiot...!

Their anxious, resentful glares bore into Seoryeong like arrows.

“Enough.”

But the one who responded wasn’t her.

Lee Wooshin pressed his thumb against his temple, massaging it slowly. Even without a tie, the collar of his training uniform seemed to be choking him as he yanked at the neckline.

“Sit up straight.”

The guy who had been holding onto Seoryeong’s arm immediately adjusted his posture, his back snapping rigid. Wooshin rubbed the back of his neck as if his muscles were tense, letting out a low, mirthless chuckle.

“I see your faces are looking pretty well-rested. That doesn’t sit right with me. During recovery week, you all got way too comfortable. Kicked off your boots, sat around listening to lectures, goofing off.”

“......”

“Playing around with your seatmates, plotting useless crap.”

Us...? When did we...?

The recruits exchanged bewildered glances, but the dawning sense of dread was already tightening around their expressions like a noose.

“What the hell did you do to get on the instructor’s bad side?”

Week 7 of Training — the infamous Hell Week had begun.

Failure to swim underwater, hypothermia, stress fractures, internal injuries, ruptures, panic attacks — all grounds for immediate expulsion. Fainting during training — expulsion. Dropping out in the middle — expulsion.

Seoryeong had fought through it all, hanging on by sheer stubbornness. But for the first time...

“――!”

Shit...!

She snapped her eyes open, her face instantly flooding with black despair and disbelief.

There was a gap in her memory.

There was nothing there.

No sense of when it had started.

Three weeks left until the end of training. And for the first time, she had blacked out during a drill.

BEEEEEP—!

The blaring siren yanked her from sleep, her body jolting upright in bed.

Everything erupted at once. Smoke grenades exploded inside the barracks, thick clouds billowing through the air. The bone-shaking blast of blanks echoed against the walls, throwing the room into chaos.

They were accustomed to being ambushed at night by now, but this time, something felt different. Instinctively, Seoryeong reached for her boots — but the sprinkler system kicked on, dousing them in a relentless torrent of ice-cold water.

“Ugh...!”

The water pressure was brutal, slamming her to the ground. Coughing, sputtering, she inhaled water through her nose, the sting so intense it made her skull throb. Soaking wet and shivering violently, she clenched her ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) teeth and yanked her laces tight.

Recovery week was officially over. Seoryeong tightened her grip on her bootlaces, her jaw clenched with grim resolve.

The recruits scrambled outside, driven forward by the instructors’ shouting. Water blasted down in relentless streams, soaking them to the bone.

As Seoryeong stumbled down the hallway, a particularly strong jet of water sent her slamming against the wall. Smoke from the grenades clung to the air, making it nearly impossible to see.

Seoryeong grabbed the closest recruit and used him as a shield, barreling her way down the corridor.

“Everyone, into the water—!”

Outside, the instructors bellowed orders into their ears. Bracing herself for the inevitable shock, Seoryeong dropped onto her ass in the shallow surf, the cold waves crashing around her.

And so began the cold-water endurance drill.

The waves struck them in rhythmic bursts, chilling them to the bone. Water sloshed in and out of their mouths and noses. Teeth chattering violently, the recruits locked arms, legs lifted at a 45-degree angle, trying to maintain their position against the relentless tide.

Standing tall and dry, Wooshin blinked down at them.

“You all look like a bunch of pickling jars sitting there in the water.”

“......”

“Not that what’s seeping out of you is booze. More like sweat and filth.”

He looked down at them, his eyes glinting with a detached amusement.

“Should I give you something better to drink?”

A shiver of dread raced through Seoryeong’s spine. Oh no...

Before she could react, Wooshin grabbed a bottle by the neck and began dousing them, pouring liquor over their heads, drenching them in alcohol.

“――!”

Wooshin walked among them, splashing the icy liquid over each of their faces and hair. When he reached Seoryeong, he paused.

The bottle tilted above her head, the liquid just starting to pour — and then, suddenly, it stopped.

Seoryeong squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. But instead of the expected drenching, she felt only silence. One eye cracked open.

“......”

“......”

Wooshin was staring down at her, the bottle now empty in his hand. He shook it slightly, a few remaining drops trickling down, his gaze heavy and unyielding.

The pause stretched, tension crackling between them. Finally, Wooshin tossed the empty bottle aside and motioned for another one.

The new bottle was handed over, but his eyes never left Seoryeong’s face.

“Han Seoryeong. Did you know this?”

His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed beneath the storm clouds that had gathered overhead.

“When you’re running an operation, unexpected variables always show up. And the commander has to decide quickly whether to eliminate them or control them.”

Wooshin popped the cap off the bottle with a deliberate, ominous slowness.

“Up until now, I’ve been focused on eliminating them. But... my perspective has changed.”

“Ugh...!”

As if to emphasize his point, he upended the bottle over Seoryeong’s head. Alcohol streamed down her scalp, stinging her skin.

“—that thing you said... find it for you—”

What...?

Seoryeong tried to make sense of his words, but the sharp bite of the liquor clouded her mind. Saltwater lashed her back while alcohol trickled down her face, burning her eyes and nostrils.

Freezing wind and frigid water needled into her skin like a thousand tiny knives.

This is hell. This is what hell feels like.

Seoryeong gritted her teeth, locking her jaw to keep herself from screaming.

“And so, let’s see how well you all endure Hell Week,” Wooshin said.

Hell Week — seven days of sleepless nights, dirty clothes, no food, no toilet breaks. The recruits were forbidden to change their uniforms or boots, forced to eat with their hands and relieve themselves whenever and wherever they could.

The air stank of booze, sweat, and despair. Seoryeong took shallow breaths, counting down the days to completion.

Kim Hyeon, you bastard. You miserable piece of shit. I’m going through all of this just to get to you.

She shook her head, droplets of water flinging from her wet lashes. As she forced herself to hold on, the instructors began hauling out large rubber IBS boats.

And then, Wooshin dropped another bomb.

“From now on, we’ll be dividing you into teams for sea maneuver drills. At the end of Hell Week, the lowest-ranking team will be discharged. Every last one of you.”

Seoryeong’s gut sank. The previous drills had all been about individual endurance, but now they had to work as a team. And she had always sucked at teamwork.

The names of the team members were called one by one.

And then her name was called.

“Fuck...”

The one who spat the curse the moment he saw her was the arrogant, macho Seong Wookchan. Alongside him were Dong Jiwoo, the incontinent crybaby, a stammering weakling who seemed better suited for a hospital bed, and a loudmouth who liked to act smarter than he was.

Seoryeong’s shoulders slumped.

This team... is screwed.

But when she glanced at their faces, she saw the same expression mirrored in each of them — as if she was the one they were all dreading being stuck with.

Wait... am I the weakest link in this group?

The whistle blew, and they were ordered to hoist the rubber boat onto their heads and march into the sea.

Seoryeong’s entire body ached, her arms burning as she struggled to keep up with the taller, stronger men. The frigid waves crashed against her thighs, and the weight of the boat bore down on her like a tombstone.

All she could see in the dark water was the hazy outline of Kim Hyeon.

Just hang on, she told herself. Three more weeks. Just three more. Then the real hunt would begin.

Even as her bones felt like they were splintering, Kim Hyeon’s hazy outline hovered before Seoryeong’s eyes.

The real game of cat and mouse with him would only begin once she survived Blast Corp’s training without passing out or quitting midway. That was when the hunt would truly start.

“Fuck...! If I fail, it’s all because of that damn maid. Why the hell do I have to be stuck in the same team as a woman?! This isn’t a team, it’s a goddamn penalty! What the hell are we supposed to do with this bunch of losers?!”

Seong Wookchan was still grumbling under his breath, spitting out curses and complaints with every heavy step.

But what was it that Instructor Wooshin said earlier?

Seoryeong furrowed her brow, straining to recall. Something about... finding something for her?

Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, inside and out. And before she knew it, she blurted out:

“What did you say you’d find for me?”