Chapter 192.1

Chapter 192.1

A tightly wrapped bandage stretched from his brows down the bridge of his nose, cleverly concealing where his eyes should have been.

He wore an indoor gown, lazily draped over his shoulders. Tilting his head from side to side, he furrowed his brows. His thick Adam’s apple shifted with every slow breath, and the sharp angle of his jaw, defined by powerful masseter muscles, made his profile look razor-edged.

Everything about him moved in slow motion.

He was bigger than before. His hair was longer. The fat in his face had vanished, leaving behind sharper, more prominent features and a weightier, more mature presence.

Seoryeong clamped her trembling lips shut.

The pale face that emerged from the shadows, soundless and unhurried, was unmistakably Solzhenitsyn. She stood frozen in place, disbelief washing over her.

“A blind man scares you this much, why bother coming at all?”

The foreign tongue twisted roughly over his teeth. His accent, the rhythm of his words, scraped past her like gravel.

He raised a mobility cane, the kind used by the visually impaired. It was unfamiliar, strange, and yet the tip lifted Seoryeong’s chin with eerie precision.

The cold stick pressed into her throat. Hard.

The bandaged face, empty of visible eyes, seemed to stare straight through her. Her ribs ached with every shallow breath.

At first, his gaze had wandered, floating aimlessly in the air.

Then, all at once, it locked onto her.

Bang.

A bullet flew past, grazing her hair and slamming into the wall behind her.

Veins bulged across the back of his hand where he gripped the pistol.

Seoryeong went rigid. She couldn’t even draw breath.

The man, who had been casually rubbing the back of his neck, sighed. Long. Tired. Like the entire encounter was beneath him.

Then again.

Bang. Bang.

Two more shots screamed past her scalp.

Snapping back to her senses, Seoryeong slapped away the cane holding up her chin and scrambled across the floor. As she slipped into a blind spot, the infrared sensor beeped again. Her mind went blank. Her throat tightened. Behind her, slow and deliberate footsteps echoed.

Why was this man in Solzhenitsyn’s house? Why him, of all people, here?

It felt like all the blood in her body had drained into her feet. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stay here. That’s enough. It’s over. Just let me out. Air. I just need air.

Pale as death, Seoryeong turned the corner toward the exit, only for a large figure to appear before her.

Solzhenitsyn had returned through some unseen route and swung his cane without hesitation.

“Ugh—”

She cried out, clutching her bruised shoulder as she collapsed.

His foot came down hard on her, pinning her in place.

“Who are you?”

His voice was low and almost relaxed. His lips pulled into a wide grin as he slowly pressed his tongue against one cheek.

Seoryeong’s eyes shook violently. Her overheated mind couldn’t process anything. Her thoughts spun wildly toward a breaking point.

He kept one foot on her shoulder while placing the cane directly on her forehead. Then he bent his knees and sat, the long indoor gown draping across part of her body.

“Affiliation?”

The cane shifted from her forehead to her throat.

A choked gasp escaped.

“Speak. Your affiliation.”

His eyes drifted slightly off center.

Was he really blind?

Her heart clenched.

How was this possible?

It felt like invisible claws tore across her chest. All the time she had spent hardening herself collapsed in an instant at the sight of him. Everything she had pushed through, every ounce of strength to keep moving forward without looking back, reduced to nothing.

Her eyes filled with red.

Then, through the window, she caught sight of Kia.

He stood motionless, watching her with a blank, unreadable face.

Her breath hitched. Dizziness swept over her.

You knew. You knew everything.

Her wide, burning eyes stung with betrayal.

Shoving the feeling down, she struck Solzhenitsyn’s foot with the back of her dagger. She threw off his weight and swung her blade.

Feeling the gaze of someone like a judge upon her, she instinctively used everything she had learned to attack. She swung for his chest, kicked his hardened abdomen. The sheer force of his counters sent tingles through her body, but she never stepped back.

Just as she lunged again for an opening, a large hand snatched the back of her neck. It felt like fire had landed on her skin, and she quickly pulled away. The hand holding the stick trembled faintly.

“Who taught you to fight?”

His Russian rolled off his tongue as if it were his native language. Seoryeong couldn’t move, as if her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Yet with wavering eyes, she continued to stare relentlessly at the bandaged man.

Luckily, the voice that came out wasn’t hers.

“…Я принадлежу к ФСБ.”

Hey, Prinadryzhu k FSB. I’m with the Federal Security Service.

She recalled the agency name Kia had mentioned. Her Russian pronunciation might have been off—she hadn’t spoken a word of it since losing her memory. It probably sounded clumsy.

He must have twitched. The bandage over his face shifted slightly as Lee Wooshin kept opening and closing his hand.

“So what about your martial arts?”

“…”

“One style looks like Krav Maga. The other… MCMAP, right? US Marine Corps.”

His pale face turned slightly, as if he were looking out into the distance.

“I’m pretty good at mixing things together, you know.”