Each step she took toward him brought with it a wave of years so bitter and steep it felt like climbing a ridgeline. Ju Seolheon steadied her collapsing expression with effort.

His once unruly curls—those she used to nag him to trim—were nowhere to be seen, and in their place was a pitifully prominent collarbone jutting from his frail frame.

The man still had his face buried in his hands, aged and worn by years of suffering.

After what felt like eternity, a pair of eyes—empty and cavernous—met hers.

“――!”

Ligai had lifted his head and was staring blankly at her. Ju Seolheon forced down the sob clawing its way up her throat.

“Why...”

Since returning to Korea after the mission, she had never looked back at what she’d left behind.

Under heavy Russian surveillance, Ligai had been completely cut off, with all visitations banned. Even the rumors that once floated around him had gone completely silent.

But then, over a decade later, they received intel that he was soon to be released. The shock didn’t end there—he hadn’t been simply imprisoned, but had continued his brain research from within what was essentially a disguised laboratory.

From that moment on, Ju Seolheon had been on the move. If Russia was orchestrating his release, they would soon begin hunting down every surviving child from Sakhalin. And if that happened... Sonia’s existence would—

She had to act before that.

That’s how Operation Bird Box came into being. Officially, it was about “quietly eliminating any party approaching Owl and protecting the daughter from her father.” But Ju Seolheon’s true objective was to kill Ligai for approaching her daughter.

But if the rumors of his madness were true—if something had truly broken in that once-brilliant brain—then maybe he was trapped somewhere in the past.

Was it before he met her? Or after? If his mind was truly shattered, then there was no way she could trust him.

If all that remained was the zealot of Sakhalin...

“Ligai...”

Ju Seolheon stepped closer and reached for her waist. Back during Operation Red Veil, she hadn’t been able to follow through, faltering for just a second...

The execution order for Viktor Ligai.

It had been the only stain on Agent Zoya’s record. And now, it was time to end it for good. She raised the cold barrel of her pistol to Ligai’s forehead.

“Black hair... Zoya...”

A broken smile crept across his scar-covered face. Ju Seolheon steadied her trembling gun with both hands. How had he ended up in such a horrific state? And yet... she had come all this way just to see this face.

“Your eyes... Ligai, where are your eyes?”

“......”

“Why... why don’t you have eyes...”

Her hands shook uncontrollably. Those brilliant, intelligent eyes from the past—what had happened to them?

“What the hell did you do to yourself...!”

“Don’t hit me, Father! I was wrong! Please, not solitary again...! Ahh! The Lord shall build an everlasting kingdom that shall never be destroyed! Sakhalin is the Promised Land, and the mighty Winter Castle will strike down every nation! It is my destiny to place all beasts beneath my feet! I can do it—I can build it!”

Ligai clutched his head and began pleading in a manic, rapid-fire voice. Ju Seolheon slowly lowered her gun and tilted her head back, crumbling.

This cowardly man. This failed father. This feeble savior. And still...

“...Ligai, you kept your promise.”

When you grow up under parents who do nothing but pump out child after child without earning a proper living, there comes a moment when they start to look like beasts.

Mating lasts only a moment, but the responsibility drags on. Her parents had birthed her and then left her to fend for herself—useless excuses for people.

Her crying siblings were always in the way, constantly underfoot. With too many mouths to feed, she would often wonder who should be thrown out today... until one day, she decided to abandon all of them.

From her mid-teens, Ju Seolheon left the baggage behind and joined a sewing factory, folding her body into a machine’s rhythm to survive. Fortunately, she was clever, beautiful, and possessed a ruthless streak that could put even ghosts to shame.

Even while working, she never gave up studying. By the age of twenty, she had landed a low-ranking government job. One of her higher-ups, who had been keeping a close eye on her, recommended her—not for desk work, but for field training. She wasn’t naturally gifted in physical combat, but that’s when opportunity came knocking.

“In North Korea,” they’d said, “female agents are tasked with an operation called ‘planting seeds.’ Ever heard of it?”

It was a joint request from the CIA to the ANSP. A CIA agent named Damon was looking for a pretty Korean female operative.

But more important than looks, he emphasized, was emotional detachment.

“The Workers’ Party sends female agents overseas to bear children of different races—white, Black, Arab, Southeast Asian—so they can raise operatives who break cultural barriers. The 915 Liaison Office handles their upkeep and turns the kids into assets. Think about how useful that kind of resource is.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“How far is Miss Ju willing to go?”

“......”

“Let’s say you had to carry a child by someone you didn’t love.”

“This isn’t North Korea.”

“Miss Ju, your assignment is Russia.”

With a light chuckle, Damon took a sip of cinnamon punch—only to grimace and set it down.

Ju Seolheon thought of the home she had left behind. Her parents, who treated childbirth like breathing. Those disgusting, overcrowded people. What was so noble about having children?

“Well... if I have to do it, I’d at least prefer to have sex with someone whose limbs are all intact.”

That day, she was given a new name.

***

“Zoya...!”

Disheveled, shaggy hair and thick, bug-eyed glasses. How could that grimy little man possibly be someone the U.S. considered a national threat based on a single paper?

She still couldn’t believe it. He was a recluse, obsessed only with research, utterly lacking in social skills.

And yet he was so paranoid that even footsteps made him twitch. He lived constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Worse, when nervous, he stuttered so badly that even trying to touch his crotch sent him into full panic.

“T-Today’s your o-ovulation day, Zoya, s-so we can’t—”

“Why the hell does that matter?”

“Th-this is for us... Ah, aah—d-don’t bite me, get away Zoya!”

And still, the paper he’d published was explosive. He proposed a theoretical enhancement to the MK-Ultra brainwashing project—something even mighty America had failed to complete.

He went further: that if the brain could be recycled, perfect mind control was possible. As the Cold War drew to a close, Ligai’s research emerged as a new form of weapon.

It was the kind of technology that could shift the entire balance of war.

And like all weapons: if it couldn’t be acquired, it had to be destroyed.

The U.S. desperately wanted Ligai on their side, but his paranoia made him impossible to approach. On top of that, he was a second-generation Koryoin, and deeply entrenched in a fringe religion. That made things worse.

Zoya was dispatched under those circumstances, and began monitoring Ligai’s every move.

In the end, the honey trap worked. Every time she saw his dazed, lovesick face staring at her, she had to suppress a scoff.

Once this mission was over, success was all but guaranteed. She might even become the youngest executive in history. Ju Seolheon had just received CIA assurance of full backing in exchange for completing the mission.

She had to become his wife—no matter what.

“Excuse me? W-what do you mean... celibate...?”

“Y-Yes. I’m sorry.”

“You should’ve told me that before we ever slept together!”

“I-I swear, I said from the start... I-I wasn’t looking for a relationship—”

“God, what kind of time thief are you...!”

But the path forward was rough. After countless twists and turns, she managed to become his lover—but even after sex, he would kneel like a sinner and break into prayer.

She supposed she should be grateful he didn’t recite scripture while thrusting. It was so bizarre it became alienating.

Just as the CIA’s files had warned, Ligai was a devout follower of Sakhalin’s doctrine.

She wasn’t his first. The person he clung to and confessed everything to wasn’t her. His god—how could she possibly win against that? With what?

The wall between them was too high, too solid. It left her hollow. That frumpy, frustrating man... Who else but me would even look twice at you?

She almost wished she hadn’t seen the piercing intelligence hidden behind those thick glasses.

Even after marriage, Ligai remained guarded. Though she was now his one and only spouse, his lips stayed sealed.

She tried bringing up emigration, but he shut it down immediately. She couldn’t get a single word about his research, his parents, or the monastery where he’d grown up.

He never introduced a single friend, and she was never allowed to visit Sakhalin. Though she was a healthy woman of childbearing age, time kept slipping by. Each time she reported to the CIA’s safehouse, she felt more ashamed.

“We’ve received intel that the Russian Orthodox Church has expanded its reach by colluding with the KGB. Specifically, the Sakhalin Monastery—where Viktor Ligai was raised. Have you heard anything about this?”

“N-No, sir.”

“If he’s connected to the KGB, even slightly, we’ll eliminate him before the research is completed.”

“...!”

“Zoya. How’s the pregnancy coming along?”

Damon’s gaze dropped to her still-flat stomach. The lack of progress was driving her mad. Her return to Korea was taking much longer than expected.

“If you haven’t even been to your husband’s hometown, that means you’re nowhere near Ligai’s core.”

“...!”

“It’s an extremely insular place. Only children of Koryoin farmers who’ve worked Sakhalin’s land are accepted. No outsiders. Only their bloodline.”

“......”

“Zoya. How long do you plan to rot in Russia?”

She bit down on her jaw, seething with humiliation.

“If you can’t change Ligai’s mind, it’s your job to manufacture a new weakness.”

After every visit to the safehouse, her mood would sour. But when she took off his ridiculous glasses and looked into those sharp, serene eyes of his, she felt like anything was possible.

Yes, this man—I made him. From head to toe, there’s not a part of him I haven’t touched. Ju Seolheon placed a hand on her lower stomach.

“...What? A baby? Zoya, did you say this is our child?”

“What’s... with that face?”

“A-Aah... No. No... I can’t. We can’t. We can’t have a child. We can’t!”

He almost never raised his voice, but now her husband was screaming in panic. ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ He collapsed, pounding the floor and weeping uncontrollably. She froze in place.

Rejecting the child with every fiber of his being, Ligai passed out on the spot.

That’s where everything began to fall apart.