Chapter 112.1

Chapter 112.1

“Whose order is that for?”

Seoryeong’s question was ice-cold, her mind completely detached. He had told her to stay by his side, but now he wanted her to leave?

Did he even see her as a team member? She wanted to ask, but for now, she kept her mouth shut.

Before she could confront him, she had to confront herself first. Why did her heart drop every time she felt his concern? Was she truly looking at Lee Wooshin as just a superior?

Even she couldn’t give herself a clear answer, and pursuing it further would only lead to an uncomfortable conversation.

She hadn’t intended to bring this up, but the words tumbled out anyway as she bit down on her lip.

“Is this because we slept together?”

“What are you—”

“Is that why you’re acting differently now?”

“…”

“Last night was last night. But I’m still a recruit who passed your test, one that you chose.”

Seoryeong took a step closer to him, then another, until the tips of her shoes bumped against his.

Their gazes clashed, both filled with unspoken tension. The silence stretched, heavy with words neither was willing to say. With her chin slightly raised, she glared at him, then tapped him lightly on the shoulder as she brushed past.

“Stop acting like a petty man.”

“…!”

She slammed the door behind her, leaving him momentarily frozen. Lee Wooshin stared at her hastily discarded clothes and, almost absentmindedly, folded them neatly.

That temper of hers… His sharp eyes softened, a trace of amusement flickering across his face.

Lingering in the spot she’d just vacated, his expression turned tender before he spun on his heel. His steps quickened, a hint of unease in his stride.

***

A long wooden table stretched across the room, where the recruits, now all dressed in priest robes, had gathered.

Yoo Dawit, who had actually attended seminary, looked composed and dignified, while Jin Hojae, with his large frame, looked as though he’d accidentally draped a blanket over himself.

Ki Taemin, finding the long robe cumbersome, kept fidgeting, and the stiffness under his arms suggested he was hiding a gun.

Seoryeong, seated across from Lee Wooshin, ignored him entirely as she stirred her spoon through her porridge, made with ground pine nuts. The warmth of the dish settled her stomach.

As Jin Hojae shoveled potato salad into his mouth, he suddenly blurted out, “Does praying really work?”

“It’s a form of brainwashing,” someone replied.

“W-What?” Jin Hojae nearly choked in shock, but before he could say more, a priest sat down next to Seoryeong.

“Brainwashing works best when the mind is young and pliable,” the priest added, his tone cynical for someone of his calling.

“Habits learned early stick for life. They leave marks—on the mind, the body, somewhere.” He set down a plate in front of Seoryeong, the red shell of a steaming crayfish gleaming. “Want some?”

“Whoa…” Ki Taemin’s eyes widened in awe.

Crawfish? In a monastery? Seoryeong turned her head to look at Kia, the priest. He had haphazardly applied bandages to his forehead and temple, the sloppy handiwork obvious to anyone.

“No, my stomach isn’t great,” she replied.

“That’s fine. You can eat and throw up again if you have to. I made it, so eat.”

“No, thank you,” she said firmly.

“Then at least eat the shell off its head.”

“…”

“The head’s always the tastiest part.”

Seoryeong felt she was dealing with someone utterly impossible to communicate with. Never before had she wanted so badly to whack someone over the head.

The priest, chin propped on his hand, now openly stared at her. His gaze traveled with deliberate slowness—from the top of her head, down her forehead, along the bridge of her nose, across her nostrils, and finally to her lips.

His fingers twitched occasionally, as if he was tempted to touch her.

“Well, she’s been handling guns since she was a kid, and I’ve practically lived at sea. Guess there’s some truth to what he said,” Jin Hojae muttered, stealing glances at the crawfish and swallowing hard.

But Kia showed no interest in the remark. Instead, he appeared almost disappointed Seoryeong wasn’t eating the crawfish.

“What about you? What did you do as a kid?”

“――”

His gaze held a twisted sense of curiosity, causing her hand to freeze mid-scoop.

What could I have done? Just lived in an orphanage, I guess.

As the thought crossed her mind, her head began to feel heavy, as if her mind was slowly dulling. Her eyelids, which had been darting around with hunger moments ago, started to droop.

“I… I rode a carousel… with my dad…”

“Hmm.”

Kiya hummed, a nasal sound of amusement.

What the hell? What did I just say? What nonsense was that?

Even though Seoryeong had answered, her voice and mind seemed disconnected, leaving her with an odd sense of dissonance. Her fingers felt stiff, like they were locking up.

“Then do you want to go ride a carousel?”

Bang!

The sudden sound of a fist slamming the table made Seoryeong flinch. The impact rattled the trays, and utensils clattered to the ground.

Seoryeong’s shoulders tensed as her gaze snapped toward Lee Wooshin. His voice, icy and commanding, broke through her haze.

“Agent Han Seoryeong, what’s your husband’s name?”

“What?”

“Focus. Say your husband’s name.”

“…”

“I’ll count backward from three. Say it out loud by then.”

“…”

“Three, two, one.”

Bang!

The table shook again.

“The name of the husband you can’t live without!”

His words cut through the air with sharp precision, the intensity driving straight into her. Lee Wooshin’s tone, devoid of any emotion, struck with interrogation-like force. Though his voice held no warmth, he maintained a perfectly neutral expression, his back straight and veins bulging in his neck.

“Get your head on straight! I asked you who you were trying to kill!”

“Kim Hyun!”