Chapter 220.1

Chapter 220.1

But the moment their skin brushed, a fist came flying at her. So she’d said she came from a Gurkha training center. Even without memories, some habits couldn’t be erased, like the instinct to solve everything with her body.

Seoryeong tasted bitterness at the back of her tongue.

She tilted her head back, dodging the next wave of forearms and shins. The woman’s fist scraped against the cement wall, and blood appeared almost instantly.

Whoever had trained her clearly hadn’t done a good job. Her movements were heavy, and her strikes lacked power.

In other words, her stance wasted strength without purpose. If she’d learned from Lee Wooshin, she would never have been taught to fight like that.

The instructor matters more than the training itself, whether it’s Gurkha or anything else…

With no other choice, Seoryeong struck the woman’s neck with the edge of her hand, grabbed her by the head, and slammed her against the wall. Dust crumbled down from the shaking surface.

Ugh!

Seoryeong winced as if she were the one in pain.

She quickly searched the woman’s pockets, tossed two knives to the ground, and wedged one between her front teeth.

“You’ve grown up tough. Were you always this quick on your feet?” Seoryeong told her.

“Mm… ugh… who the hell are you!”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name. And the name of the kid who ran off, if you’re feeling generous.”

“…”

“Is my question that hard?”

The more the woman clamped her mouth shut, the stronger Seoryeong’s suspicion grew. The head trapped in her grip was still warm. She was obviously holding her breath, waiting for the right moment to counter.

Her head was bigger now, her hands rough, her legs and heels likely scarred and calloused.

“Then let’s go to the police. Kids need to have bad habits corrected early.”

“My kids never touch strangers’ stuff without reason!”

The knife in her mouth made every word come out slurred. She squirmed in defiance, but Seoryeong didn’t flinch. Instead, she twisted the woman’s hair tighter and pressed her further against the wall.

“Were you ever sick as a child? Did they make sure you ate well and slept enough?”

“Mmmph! Mu, Musung…”

“Did people treat you kindly? Did they pet your head, tell you you were good?”

“…”

“Come on, talk to me. I’m just really interested in you.”

“You’re insane, aren’t you!”

“Then should we just go straight to the police station? They can check your identity and call that kid in too.”

“You damn crazy bitch!”

“She stole my phone,” Seoryeong said flatly, not blinking as she lied.

The woman groaned, as if she had a headache, and slammed her forehead against the wall with a loud thud. Startled, Seoryeong quickly pulled the knife away and grabbed the woman’s head to stop her from hurting herself.

The woman shouted in defeat.

“Fine! I’ll bring it back myself! I’ll take full responsibility and return it!”

Seoryeong narrowed her eyes. The woman’s desperate attempt to avoid giving away any information only deepened her suspicion.

She couldn’t be sure yet if these were truly the Sakhalin children who had survived, but if she pushed too hard, she risked ruining everything.

Besides, if she really had completed training at a Gurkha center and was now standing guard as a child street vendor, then something was very wrong.

Suppressing her growing curiosity, Seoryeong finally released her grip. Drawing more suspicion here would be dangerous. If they really were Koryo-saram, they would never trust a stranger’s word.

After a brief hesitation, she removed her bracelet and slipped it onto the woman’s wrist. Her fingers brushed against the woman’s rough palm, calluses so thick they felt like iron horseshoes.

Seoryeong swallowed hard, her throat burning, and gazed deeply into those black eyes beneath black hair.

“Diaspora.”

The woman froze, her breath caught. Her gaze flickered as she stared at the pattern etched on the bracelet. Seoryeong seized that brief moment.

“Give this bracelet to the person who made that pattern. Tell them I sent it. You promised to bring it back. You’re responsible for that now.”

Her tone was cold and final, it wasn’t about the phone anymore, but about bringing back news. She tilted her chin in a silent command to go. The woman backed away warily, never once lowering her guard.

‘That fierce little thing… she might really be one of the children who survived Winter Castle.’

Seoryeong watched the retreating figure in a daze, her eyes unfocused.

Kia… She unconsciously whispered her only brother’s name.

‘Kia, you were wrong. Our siblings didn’t die. There might still be names left to call.’

A faint tremor passed through her eyes.

As soon as she let the woman go, Seoryeong rushed to find a phone booth and called Channa. There was no way she could trust a complete stranger and just wait.

After quickly explaining the situation, she asked Channa to trace her phone’s location.

Raindrops tapped against the glass—tick, tick—filling the booth with a tense silence. Ever since meeting that dark-haired woman, her heart had been swelling uncontrollably, her pulse racing.

Something was right there. Just ahead.

―“Uh… that’s… ha, well…”

Channa’s hesitant voice came through the receiver.

―“Didn’t you say you secretly slipped your phone into the kid’s basket?”

“Yes.”

―“Well, this is… tch… the signal’s coming from a police station.”

“Where?”

―“That kid… I think she might have gone to the police station to report a lost item…”

“….”

Both of Seoryeong’s cheeks twitched violently. So that’s how good she was?

Damn it… She slammed the back of her head against the phone booth wall.

So, in hindsight, it was no surprise that even after a full week, the woman hadn’t shown up again.