Chapter 40.2

Week 1 of Blast training.

After a terrifying first night, they slowly settled into a repetitive schedule. Gymnastics, tumbling in the mornings, and swimming in the afternoons, focusing on basic fitness.

At first, Lee Wooshin’s warning that “nothing bad” would happen to their lifestyle was spot-on.

With raids every night, they had zero stamina to bully others. They were chronically sleep-deprived and struggled to keep themselves fit.

The problem was that the physical training was blatant harassment, and Lee Wooshin’s training included pull-ups, also known as “bobbing”.

Ping— Ping—.

One chin-up per whistle, up and down on the monkey bars.

There was no lunch for those who couldn’t keep up with the whistles. Therefore, the instructors deliberately varied the pace of blowing the whistle, either slowing down or speeding up, causing the trainees to drop out first.

However, the monkey bars were a familiar tool to Seoryeong, and hanging from them was once her forte.

“―!”

So, when her turn came, Seoryeong naturally took her place and lightly jumped onto the monkey bars. As she effortlessly performed the chin-ups, both the recruits and the instructors were taken aback.

From that day on, every time it was Seoryeong’s turn, Lee Wooshin intervened. His appearance was so jovial and he would find ways to make Seoryeong fail miserably..

So, he’s not going to make it easy for me. Seoryeong thought and turned out, she was right.

Today, as he walked out, cursing was the only thing Seoryeong could do. Since the day Lee Wooshin personally blew the whistle, she hadn’t eaten lunch even once.

Beep- the whistle blew.

On cue, Han Seoryeong clung to the bars, and Lee Wooshin stalled, watching her grip tighten.

“Ms. Han, do you like to sing?”

What are you going to do this time… Han glared, and the man laughed ticklishly as if a dandelion seed had touched his face.

“When you sing, the instructor gets excited and blows the whistle.”

Seoryeong imagined punching Lee Wooshin’s neck and spoke harshly.

“On this beautiful… land, in the mountains of Jinshu River, there’s a fucking instructor, and he’s talking shit in the red man’s language… and there’s only a fucking instructor…… Should I continue this?”

The sound of stifled breathing mixed in between the songs.

There were huffs and puffs of laughter here and there, but only Seoryeong, who sang with hatred, and Lee Wooshin, who took the venomous glares with pleasure, were engaged in a subtle battle.

The beep, beep, slow whistle continued. Her delicate palms were crushed and blistered by the iron. Her arms were now visibly trembling.

Still, every time she followed the whistle correctly, Lee Wooshin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Whoops―!”

Seoryeong, barely managing to pull herself up on the horizontal bar, suddenly fell back.

Ahhh… She kicked the steel pole lightly as if in frustration and gasped for air. The more she thought about it, the more she resented being pushed around by Lee Wooshin and being in a position where she had no choice but to lose.

Sigh… Looks like lunch is skipped again today.

She slumped to the ground, rubbing her hardened forearms.

For some reason, the stern-faced Lee Wooshin was staring at her intently. Then, dragging his boots on the ground, he approached her, bent down on one knee, and made eye contact.

The backlight cast deeper shadows on his already well-shaded features.

“Do you take any medication?”

“What?”

“Androgenic steroid injections.”

“What?”

“You know, Han Seoryeong, we’ve had some suspicions about marijuana in the past.”

Seoryeong’s lips parted slightly in disbelief.

“You can be honest with me. These assholes here, they get more shots than fists.”

Suspicion lurked in his tone, which had dropped to the point of sarcasm. His gaze was so intense she could almost draw the shape of his irises.

Of course, precisely because she wasn’t blind, it made it all the easier to scrutinize his fake eyes, like looking through a microscope.