Kang Jooyoung tried to get up but couldn’t.

He was kicked into the exact same position as Lee Jihoon, whom he’d just beaten down. The difference was, the kicks rained down on him with brutal force.

The foot delivering the blows was clearly bare, but it struck with the force of a combat boot.

In an instant, Kang Jooyoung’s face was drenched in blood.

And not just his face.

There wasn’t a single part of him untouched by the foot.

At this rate, he was going to die.

He deserved it, sure—but that didn’t mean he should actually die.

Jiwon looked up at the one beating Kang Jooyoung to a pulp.

Unexpectedly, it was Number 3. What was truly shocking was how utterly calm Number 3 looked. As if he were out on a casual stroll, he stomped down on Kang Jooyoung’s body with a relaxed expression—barefoot, each blow thudding into flesh.

The rampaging cops all went quiet at once.

You sons of bitches, just gonna stand there and watch?

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jiwon gritted his teeth and glared at the rest of them, who were still just spectating.

Kang Jooyoung’s blood was beginning to soak the carpet in the lobby.

Was he seriously going to kill him?

Fuck. Jiwon released his arms from around Lee Jihoon and dove forward to shield Kang Jooyoung. At the same moment, Number 3’s foot slammed into Jiwon.

It fucking hurt.

The force of the kick was on a completely different level from what he’d dealt to Kang Jooyoung. Maybe it landed where Kang Jooyoung had already hit him—but whatever the reason, Jiwon’s eyes welled up with tears.

Even so, he couldn’t dodge. If he moved, Kang Jooyoung would’ve taken the hit instead.

Jiwon clenched his eyes shut and braced himself for the next blow. He tensed his entire body.

Thankfully, the beating stopped.

Jiwon let out a breath of relief and pulled his arm back from shielding Kang Jooyoung. He moved away from the bastard he couldn’t stand to look at and raised his eyes again to Number 3.

“Why did you do that?”

Number 3 tilted his head, confused.

“Is there someone here who doesn’t deserve to die?”

Jiwon snapped. His voice was loud, as if saying, ‘Are you fucking serious?’

“So what if there is?”

Number 3 cocked his head.

...This fucking guy.

He hadn’t seemed like it before, but he might actually be a psycho.

Maybe Han Seoho had been telling the truth. Not about the sex—but about the murder. Maybe Number 3 really had killed someone.

How could someone be so calm while dishing out that level of violence?

Either he’d done this before, or his natural disposition was cold-blooded. Even if he wasn’t a full-blown psychopath, he was clearly lacking in empathy or moral restraint.

Whether he knew what Jiwon was thinking or not, Number 3 continued to gaze down at him, still wearing a puzzled expression. But then, his brow furrowed.

It wasn’t until much later that Jiwon realized the reason Number 3 had acted—he was trying to help him, who was being beaten by Kang Jooyoung.

Ah. So he actually had a sense of loyalty.

Jiwon felt guilty for calling him a murderer and a psychopath.

Once the commotion died down, the siren finally went off.

Only then did the guards arrive. They were dressed in black uniforms and outnumbered the crew. What truly shocked the others—more than the numbers—was the fact that the guards were armed. The batons were one thing, but they also wore military-style knives known as “trench knives” on their hips. The distinctive handles made them unmistakable.

Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to see at a sex party retreat.

The guards, having already grasped the situation, immediately surrounded the main perpetrators of the riot—Number 9 and Number 11. Number 3 was taken away too. The rest of Team 1 followed without resistance.

Jiwon, still glaring at the Muzzles and Sailors who were just watching, half-staggered back toward Lee Jihoon.

“You okay?”

He tried to comfort Jihoon, who was crying with his face buried in his hands.

Jihoon was out of it—mind blank from pain and shock.

“Let me see.”

His face was a complete mess.

Not just his lips—his gums were split too, bleeding heavily. His nose also looked broken.

Park Geonwoo and Kim Yunho arrived late.

“Jihoon, are you okay?”

“Let me see. Fuck, what happened to your face?”

Both of them sounded like they were about to cry.

“We need to get him to the clinic.”

At Jiwon’s words, the two of them propped Jihoon up on either side.

With every step Jihoon took, blood dripped to the floor.

His blood mixed with the pool left behind by Kang Jooyoung.

Fuck. It hurts like a bitch.

Jiwon rubbed his aching back and ass and managed to stand, following behind the trio.

“Your nasal bone is fractured.”

The doctor who examined Jihoon said it would be difficult to operate ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) here, so they started by treating his injuries. Then they took an X-ray, suspecting other possible fractures. Fortunately, it was only the nose.

While Jihoon lay on a bed getting fluids, Park Geonwoo and Kim Yunho stayed by his side.

Jiwon was examined right after. He stripped off his gown and stood naked before the doctor.

Most of the damage was to his back, thighs, and ass, so there weren’t many visible bruises from his perspective.

“This is a mess.”

The doctor clicked his tongue, inspecting the bruises.

“Anywhere uncomfortable?”

“Not really.”

“Like with a car crash, you might not feel it now, but pain could come tomorrow.”

He pressed down on Jiwon’s spine, then checked his ribs from the front.

“The bones all seem fine for now. Still, let’s get an X-ray to be sure.”

Like Jihoon, Jiwon had an X-ray taken and was told there were no fractures.

“Everything looks fine in the X-ray too. But if you feel any pain while breathing or notice swelling, come back immediately. As for the bruises, just apply ointment regularly and they’ll go away soon.”

Since the bruises were on his back, Jiwon couldn’t apply the ointment himself. The doctor told him to come to the clinic three times a day for treatment.

Jiwon let out a breath of relief. If he’d had any broken bones, he would’ve been kicked out of the project.

A nurse carefully applied ointment to his bruises, then gave him an antibiotic injection. He didn’t get an IV like Jihoon, just six extra painkillers added to his usual dose.

“What’d they say? You okay?”

Park Geonwoo, still holding Jihoon’s hand, looked over at Jiwon.

“Yeah. No issues.”

“Good. But fuck, that asshole Number 11. Look at Jihoon’s face.”

Geonwoo cursed, seeing Jihoon’s face so swollen his eyes wouldn’t even open.

“He should’ve just been killed.”

He was furious, like it’d happened to him personally. But he didn’t say anything about Jiwon stopping Number 3. He had no right to—he’d been watching too.

Kim Yunho stayed silent. Everyone knew he was close to Number 11, so Jiwon didn’t feel like talking to him either.

Jihoon, groaning in pain, eventually fell asleep. The three of them sat by his bed, keeping watch.

“If the nurse hadn’t said anything, we probably would’ve stayed here all night.”

As they left the room, Park Geonwoo turned to Kim Yunho.

“You should count yourself lucky, Kim Yunho. The one in that bed could’ve been you.”

“Oh, come on, hyung. Why say it like that? And it’s not like Jooyoung did it on purpose.”

Even now, Kim Yunho took Number 11’s side.

“‘He didn’t do it on purpose’? You still don’t get it, do you? Fuck, Kim Yunho. You’ve been a piece of shit since the Manito game. Just because we let things slide, you think everything’s fine? Huh?!”

Park Geonwoo grabbed him by the collar and shouted.

“What the fuck, man?! What did I do that’s so wrong?! Yeah, I was close with Jooyoung! So what?! You fucked him too, didn’t you?! You think I don’t know?! You got him as a gift and just now you were fucking the shit out of him—why the hell are you only coming for me?!”

Kim Yunho didn’t back down—he lashed out.

“Honestly, you’re the one who should be in that bed!”

“You think this is a game, asshole? I got him as a gift. You chose to get on your knees and suck his cock. And just because I fucked him, you think I took his side? Did I do shit for him?”

Park Geonwoo raised a fist.

Wait—Number 11 was his gift?

What the actual fuck?

The more Jiwon listened, the more absurd it sounded.

He felt exhausted. Just yesterday, he’d hinted at what he’d nearly gone through with Number 9 and 11, and not a single one of them had cared.

He no longer had the energy to break up their fight.

He turned his back on them and walked down the hallway. The corridor and the lobby downstairs were dark—lights off, no one in sight. Everyone had probably returned to their rooms.

Jiwon climbed the stairs with a groan.

It’d been a fucking variety show of a day. It felt longer than a week.

His room had already been cleaned. The sheets, blanket, and pillow that had been soiled during sex with Number 3 were all replaced.

He let out a bitter laugh, thinking even the sweet night he’d longed for with Number 3 was now out the window.

He threw himself onto the bed.

Unfortunately, Lee Jihoon was discharged from the program.

The reason given was the nasal fracture. According to the doctor, it was better for him to receive proper surgery and care at a hospital rather than waste time here.

It sounded like a valid excuse on the surface—but in truth, it was because no one needed a guy with a broken nose and split lips and gums at a sex party.

Since it had been a one-sided assault, Jihoon was allowed to keep all the money he’d received so far and was even given an additional ₩20 million as compensation.

Jiwon had heard this directly from Jihoon himself.

Unlike other discharged participants who vanished quietly, Jihoon had packed his things and gone out of his way to visit Jiwon to say goodbye. Apparently, he’d asked the team leader for permission—saying he wanted to thank the person who’d saved him from that brutal beating—and the request had been granted.

Jihoon, barely able to open his swollen eyes, chattered on, recounting what the doctor and administrator had told him.

Knock knock.

"Five minutes are up. Time to go," came a shout from the administrator waiting outside.

Jihoon stood, regret written across his face.

"Hyung, really... thank you."

"What for? I should’ve helped sooner."

Jiwon knew it had been a surprise attack—there was nothing he could’ve done. Still, the thought always lingered. Couldn’t I have stepped in faster?

"What do you mean? If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. Seriously."

Jihoon was genuinely grateful.

"Can I... hug you?"

He said something unbearably corny.

But at this point—what couldn’t he allow?

When Jiwon nodded, Jihoon spread his arms and hugged him. Then he brought his lips close to Jiwon’s ear.

"Hyung, that bastard Han Seoho—he wasn’t with me and Hyeseong on Basement Level 1. I first met him the day I got here. But he knew us. Everything. Even what happened down there."

He whispered it so only Jiwon could hear.

Jiwon was too stunned to reply. A chill ran down his spine.

Then Jihoon raised his voice: "Take care, hyung. Stay healthy." He hugged him tight again.

"Thank you. Really."

His voice was trembling.

"Take care," Jiwon managed to say at last.

His scalp tingled.

Only now did he understand why Jihoon had reacted so strongly to Han Seoho on the day he arrived.

Han Seoho hadn’t been in Basement Level 1. He wasn’t part of the reserve group. And yet he’d known both Gwak Hyeseong and Lee Jihoon. He’d even known what had happened there. That’s why Jihoon had hated him.

Jiwon had thought Han Seoho was just a recruiter—but he was a spy.

And if Han Seoho was a spy... who else?

There was no guarantee there weren’t other spies among the mid-program joiners. Hell, there could be spies among the original members too.

Jiwon’s first thought was Choi Minjae—not out of concern for his safety, but because he was worried Minjae might have told Han Seoho who Jiwon really was.

Jiwon bolted out of his room and rushed to Choi Minjae’s.

Bang bang bang. He pounded on the door loudly, not caring who heard.

No way he was asleep already—but it still took a moment before the door opened.

"Hyung, what’re you doing here at this hour?"

Choi Minjae stood there, covering only his crotch with a towel.

His flushed face made it obvious what he’d been doing.

The son of a bitch was off having a carefree fuck.

Jiwon shoved the door open wider and looked toward the bed—locking eyes with the other person in it.

Han Seoho.

Han Seoho waved.

"Hyung, wanna join? Baby, what do you think?"

He cooed, looking between Jiwon and Minjae.

He’d just suggested a threesome. Then giggled like a slut.

This fucking bastard thinks he’s funny.

Jiwon didn’t even look at Han Seoho. He stared daggers at Minjae—the one who’d made this mess complicated—and without warning, raised his foot and slammed it into Minjae’s shin.

Caught off guard, Minjae stumbled and hopped in pain without making a sound.

"Let’s talk tomorrow."

That’s all Jiwon said before turning his back.

Fucker. Instead of helping, he was out here screwing things up.

This whole situation was going to shit.

He had a mountain of obstacles to get through.