Clutching his side as he rose, Na Wonchang fumbled awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.

Breaking the heavy silence, the doctor cut in to explain things to be mindful of and the current condition of his body. Whether it was misfortune or luck, the wounds had healed completely while he was unconscious, and now all that remained was to rebuild his stamina.

Even as he listened to the explanation, Lee Wooshin glared sharply at Na Wonchang, who was shrinking back like a frightened puppy. He didn’t even blink, scouring the frozen expression for the slightest clue. As soon as the doctor left, he pounced with a question.

“How many days has it been.”

“Uh... well... it’s, it’s been close to three months.”

“......”

It was even worse than he’d imagined. He had calculated the shot. The fact that he had lain unconscious for nearly three months was absurd. A hollow laugh escaped him.

He glanced at his side, where there was no bandage, only a simple gauze patch, then brushed back his hair, which had grown long enough to trail down near his eyes.

“So what about tracking Han Seoryeong. Interpol must be looking for her.”

“Well, that...”

Lee Wooshin’s brow tightened. He didn’t like the feeling of this.

“At first they conducted a thorough search, but it... it didn’t go well.”

“Didn’t go well?”

“She disappeared without a trace.”

“......”

His chest swelled and collapsed in a great heave.

Dis...appeared?

He repeated the word blankly, holding his breath.

He had laid the traps so that the entire world would chase her, and yet she had vanished. For an instant, Lee Wooshin shut his eyes tight as if his vision had gone completely black.

How could the Owl just disappear?

How could my wife leave me alone on this sickbed and disappear.

He lowered his gaze to his empty hands, blinking slowly.

“...How.”

Sunlight spilled across his pale face. While he had been lying there, the cherry blossoms had bloomed and fallen, and now it was the season when green leaves rustled in the breeze.

But the man was frozen, as if enduring a cutting winter wind alone. His savagely twisted eyes darted toward the summer outside the window, as if he could not believe it.

“Which fucker was it?”

“...What?”

“Who the hell would believe she shook off Interpol on her own.”

He smirked crookedly, kneading the stiff back of his neck.

“I—I thought the same, but still...”

“I trained Seoryeong well, but not that well.”

His lips clamped shut, and heavy silence fell again. As Na Wonchang darted uneasy glances at his wound, unable to sit still,

“Ah—fuck, Seoryeong.”

With one hand covering his eyes, the man muttered coldly.

“If you had to go, you should’ve gone alone.”

His exposed throat bobbed violently. Though spoken under his breath, the clucking of his tongue bristled with sharp edges.

Na Wonchang swallowed dryly, his knees weak, clenching the bed frame as if for dear life.

Having only just woken after months of unconsciousness, every movement was slow and heavy. But that very slowness was razor-sharp, like the careful stillness just before a hunt.

Lee Wooshin rolled one shoulder, as if stretching, and chewed the words.

“This is fucking hilarious.”

“......!”

“The old husband got tossed aside, and she ran off with some new guy. My side’s torn open, and meanwhile someone else is clinging to her side.”

Na Wonchang edged back another step from the man, who was chuckling to himself. After laughing bitterly for a long moment, Wooshin wiped the smile from his face, flung the blanket aside, and rose. He grabbed Wonchang’s collar and yanked him close.

“Wonchang, good to see you. I put a tracker in the wedding ring. I’ll give you the code, so start tracking it right away. Another lead is a priest named Kiya from the Orthodox Church. His base is the Sakhalin Monastery, so start there—”

“Wedding ring?!”

Wonchang’s eyes widened like saucers as he blurted out.

“Team Leader, you actually got married? This isn’t some kind of smokescreen or cover story?!”

Wooshin paused in the middle of looking for his slippers.

Na Wonchang, do you really think what I did was an actual marriage? The Owl was just a target, and my role just happened to be the “husband.”

He remembered the words he had snapped at the naïve Wonchang after the Bird Box ended. Wonchang’s blinking eyes were still wide and round. Wooshin let out a long sigh.

He didn’t regret the honeymoon life he had shared with the Owl, but when his own words came back at him like a boomerang, his chest throbbed as if pierced.

The folly of making assumptions out of misplaced beliefs, and thinking he could simply push it all away, gnawed at his bones.

“Ah, right. I never corrected that for you.”

“What?”

“It was a real marriage. I quit the NIS just to be the Owl’s husband.”

“...What?”

“Idiot. I realized it far too late.”

“......”

“My true calling was something else entirely.”

Wonchang rubbed the shoulder that had been tapped lightly. It didn’t hurt. Up until now, they had only ever spoken through comms—today was the first time he was facing him directly, aside from glimpsing him secretly on a bench once.

No CCTV had ever managed to capture half the range of expressions or atmosphere he could shift through.

Especially those glassy irises. Instinctively, Wonchang ducked his head. Looking at Agent Lee Wooshin’s broad back, he could not help but recall Deputy Director Ju Seolheon’s funeral.

Just then, Wooshin frowned.

“Wait, I can’t boss you around anymore, can I.”

“Ah...!”

Startled, Wonchang rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small ring case. A soft velvet box, like he was about to propose. Wooshin’s eyebrow arched.

“Don’t kneel to a married man.”

“No, it’s not that...! Deputy Director Ju entrusted this to me!”

At the word deputy director, Wooshin’s already hardened brow clenched even tighter. He took the box and opened it. Inside lay a small star-shaped badge.

A hollow breath escaped him. It was the brooch used to honor and symbolize NIS black agents. Staring at it with a complicated expression, he heard Wonchang add.

“You can use me anytime. Anytime. You’re still the unofficial Team 1 leader.”

“What?”

How long had it been since he’d resigned? They never let a man rest. Even in death, Deputy Director Ju seemed determined never to release him. What the hell was this supposed to mean? His face twisted with distaste.

“The Deputy Director...―”

He remembered Ju’s final moments. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so much he couldn’t understand, but he simply closed his eyes. Maybe he didn’t even want to know.

At that moment, Wonchang, fidgeting with his fingers, finally spoke.

“The truth is... for months now, someone’s been insisting they needed to meet you. They came once a week, even today...”

He glanced toward the door nervously.

“I think it’s because of the Deputy Director. They said they had something they had to deliver in person.”

“Who?”

“The CIA.”

“......!”

“They said it was classified documents the Deputy Director left behind.”

Wooshin’s face hardened instantly as realization struck.

Summoned by the news, Hur Channa rushed to Na Wonchang, who was squatting outside ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) the hospital room door.

“So it’s true he woke up? That bastard really woke up?!”

True to her temper, she shoved the door open as she shouted, but Na Wonchang, pulling his cap low, suddenly yanked her back and covered her mouth.

“Mmph, mmph—!”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, but just for a moment.”

“Mmph...!”

She thrashed, jabbing her elbow into his ribs. He staggered but refused to let go, mumbling repeated apologies.

“Just give him some time...”

His lowered voice was strangely dark. What the hell...! Channa peered through the tiny crack of the door.

The white curtain fluttered in the open window. The bright summer sunlight poured down on Lee Wooshin, who had finally awakened from his long, long sleep, as if congratulating him. On such a radiant day, Channa froze mid-struggle.

His neck was bent, drooping like a broken branch. The hospital corridor buzzed with noise, but here it was as if all light had vanished and time itself had stopped.

Lee Wooshin’s face was buried in a stack of documents.

“......”

From his spine to his shoulders to his arms, he didn’t move at all, like a man struck by frostbite. Only his pale fingernails sometimes crumpled the old paper with a faint rustle.

And yet there was no sound of breathing. The silence itself felt alien. Only a low groan slipped out from time to time, like the gasp of someone enduring the pain of a wound reopening.

Wooshin could not lift his head, clinging desperately to the final page of the file. The scattered documents littered the floor, caught up by the breeze.

Does he need painkillers? Channa turned her head.

“What’s... happening...”

Wonchang shook his head hard beneath his cap. If you listened closely, muffled groans seeped out like torn flesh dropping piece by piece.

Then Wooshin’s shoulders, which had seemed so unshakable, suddenly began to tremble violently. Wonchang quickly shut the door. The two of them froze on the spot.

Red Veil.

Channa quietly mouthed the words on the first page that had been blown aside. A nameless sadness and numbness settled over her as she turned her back, standing guard at the hospital door.

Until the groans of someone’s breaking breath finally ceased.

Do you want me to continue directly into the Red Veil file scene next, or stop here at this emotional cutoff?