Merry Psycho - Chapter 84.1

Chapter 84.1

His unblinking stare was so intense it felt unsettling. Seoryeong instinctively gripped the baton attached to her belt. He must have mistaken her for someone else.

“Sir, stop right there. Don’t come any closer.”

“…”

The man continued to scrutinize her face, his gaze moving deliberately from her hair to her eyes, down to her nose, lips, chin, and finally her neck. His eyes lingered on every feature as if trying to commit them to memory, filled with a desperation she couldn’t quite understand.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, around her age. Yet, his calm demeanor—marked by a composed stillness, even in his breathing—set him apart.

Every time he touched the cross around his neck, his expression grew even more devout, a trait Seoryeong rarely saw in the fellow officers who trudged through mud and muck alongside her.

But despite that aura, this was still a man who had just engaged in illicit acts in a women’s restroom. Whether he was corrupt, morally fallen, or just a con artist in disguise, Seoryeong kept her guard up and warned him sternly.

“There’s a Ministry of Trade, Industry, and Energy event happening right now, and your behavior is inappropriate. Please leave quietly. And wash your hands in the men’s restroom.”

Despite her polite request, the man didn’t budge. Instead, a flicker of something strange passed through his dark, somber eyes.

Disregarding her warning, he took another step closer. Sweeping his long hair back, revealing his smooth forehead, his face appeared strikingly handsome.

“Wanna see?”

When he opened his mouth to say “see,” his lips parted to reveal white, perfectly aligned teeth.

His teeth were almost unnaturally perfect, but despite the lack of gold or any dental work, there was something unsettling about them.

“Come on, smile. I just wanted to count your teeth.”

Realizing there was no reasoning with him, Seoryeong withdrew her baton. Her instincts told her this man wouldn’t respond to words.

She used the baton to push him back, pressing it firmly against his chest as he continued to stare at her with a blank expression.

“Don’t like it? Then what’s your name?”

Though his Korean sounded natural, his tone was casual and strangely off. His disheveled hair and awkward speech gave the impression of something unfinished, incomplete.

“Have you lived in Korea your whole life? Can’t speak Russian?”

From behind the stall, a woman’s voice chimed in, laughing softly. “Seems like all pickup lines are the same…”

Seoryeong could hear the rustle of stockings being pulled up and clothing being adjusted as the woman got dressed.

The man’s narrow, monolid eyes flicked briefly towards the sound, momentarily sharp. But when he looked back at Seoryeong, his gaze returned to its previous calm, his eyelids lowering slightly.

Long, dark lashes cast soft shadows over his eyes, adding to Seoryeong’s growing sense of discomfort. She frowned.

“If you don’t leave now, I’ll have no choice but to drag you out myself.”

“You? Drag me out?”

His eyes assessed her body, starting from her shoulders, down her arms, her waist, and legs.

“Are you really that strong?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he swiftly knelt down, slipping his hand without warning into the hem of her pants.

When the unfamiliar warmth gripped her shin tightly, Seoryeong didn’t hesitate to kick his shoulder.

The man stumbled as if about to fall on his butt, but he quickly regained his balance and looked up at her.

“Ah—.”

A stiff groan escaped from his lips. Soon, he started staring at his hand with a strangely hardened expression.

Is he seriously a pervert? Seoryeong couldn’t hold back any longer and pressed the button on her earpiece to report.

“Senior, this is Zone 2-B. There’s a pervert in the women’s bathroom who refuses to come out.”

—”What?”

“He doesn’t seem to plan on leaving on his own, so should I handle this?”

There was silence on the other line.

“Well, he’s dressed as a priest.”

Seoryeong tapped the now-silent earpiece a couple more times before continuing.

“There’s no rule against dealing with priests, right?”

—”Uh, well, no, but…”

Despite her senior’s half-hearted response, she gripped her baton tighter.

“Then, I’ll subdue him and turn him over.”

Right as the man reached out again, Seoryeong swung at his hand without hesitation. She kicked him in the chest, aiming to knock him down.

Surprisingly, the man quickly stood up, grabbed her arm, and slammed her against the wall. At the same time, he yanked her hair, and with a crack, strands were torn out.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

“Ugh!”

She gritted her teeth against the burning pain in her scalp. But before she could react, the man stepped back, clutching her torn hair tightly, raising both hands as if in surrender.

His attitude suggested he was done for the day.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Seoryeong asked, loosening the belt tightly cinched around her waist.

“Exactly. I told you to do this—”

“….”

“Do this—”

The man, clutching a cross necklace, smiled. Among his perfectly aligned teeth, one of his canines appeared unusually sharp.

But unlike someone she once knew who suited such a smile, the priest’s grin had an eerie quality.

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