After arriving at work, he could barely remember how he spent the day until six o’clock. Since then, there had been no word from Eun-jae, and he hadn’t even dared to check the message from Seung-hyeon.
The look on Seung-hyeon’s face from the dream still lingered painfully in his mind, and deep down, he had resolved to only reach out once he had somewhat resolved things with Eun-jae.
That evening, the place he went to with Seo Eun-jae was a rather upscale restaurant. By Gwanggong standards, it was “decent,” but for Eun-jae, who was just starting out in society, it was far too luxurious—somewhere he wouldn’t normally have any reason to go. As they stepped inside, Seon-woo couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, wondering if Eun-jae had chosen this place just for his sake.
Once seated at the table, Seon-woo studied Eun-jae’s face carefully from across the table. Normally, Eun-jae would chatter on his own, naturally lightening the mood, but today, he was unusually silent. Seon-woo had already sensed something was off from the moment he received the text asking to meet that evening. Today, Eun-jae seemed different—serious and solemn, like someone preparing for something important.
Because Eun-jae didn’t start the conversation, Seon-woo also remained quiet. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anxious, but outwardly, he kept a composed expression. Still, his attention remained completely focused on Eun-jae. Thanks to that, he caught the exact moment when Eun-jae, lost in thought, nearly shoved his fork up his nose instead of into his mouth once the appetizer was served.
“Ah…”
Startled out of his daze, Eun-jae awkwardly set his spoon down. He looked like he was trying to play it off and change the subject as if nothing had happened, so Seon-woo played along and pretended not to notice. Only then did Eun-jae finally speak.
“So… does it suit your taste?”
It was a random question. In truth, the salad served as the appetizer had been quite good, so Seon-woo nodded without hesitation.
“It’s quite enjoyable.”
Eun-jae looked visibly relieved as he lowered his head. Still, his expression clearly said he had something more to say. Seon-woo didn’t press and simply waited for him to speak again. It took a while—Eun-jae just poked at his plate with his fork—but eventually, he opened his mouth once more.
“Why did you do that back then?”
Here it is. That was all Seon-woo could think.
He’d expected a question like this. He had secretly hoped Eun-jae might just pretend nothing happened and let it go, but he’d also prepared himself for the possibility of this conversation. So, Seon-woo gave the answer he’d rehearsed in his mind.
“I’m sorry about that. I… lost control for a moment and overreacted.”
Strictly speaking, losing control hadn’t been due to his own will but because of the system’s constraints. Still, that was what he chose to say. The next part was the time to string together things like “It won’t happen again,” or “I never intended to rape you,” and “Even so, you must’ve felt threatened, and I truly apologize.”
But before Seon-woo could even open his mouth, Eun-jae beat him to it.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“…What?”
Seon-woo blinked, caught off guard, his prepared answer instantly rendered useless. Eun-jae continued, his expression deadly serious.
“What I’m asking isn’t why you did it. I’m asking why you didn’t.”
“…What?”
That was all he could manage to say in response. Eun-jae fidgeted with his fingers, looking awkwardly at Seon-woo’s furrowed brow. As Seon-woo stared at him, more puzzled than anything, Eun-jae cleared his throat a couple of times before continuing.
“I mean… you took me home because you were planning to, um… sleep with me, right?”
“…What?”
Even though every single word had been clearly enunciated, Seon-woo asked again, as if he hadn’t heard it properly. At last, even the system had heard enough and sent a notification.
<Gwanggong does not repeat questions like a fool. Gwanggong Score -1.>
Honestly, it was a miracle the system had stayed silent for this long. But with everything Eun-jae had just said, Seon-woo had much bigger concerns than losing a single point. Eun-jae sighed and shook his head.
“Trying to beat around the bush is driving me crazy.”
Not that he seemed to be beating around the bush now… Seon-woo was just starting to think that when Eun-jae spoke again, his tone more forceful than before.
“Anyway, you were trying to sleep with me when you took me home, weren’t you? It’s not like I turned you down, so I don’t get why you suddenly stopped. If it was a matter of position, I even told you I’d go on top.”
The way he said it—so naturally, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—was enough to make Seon-woo feel dizzy. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and ran it through his hair.
“Wait, hold on.”
He tried to pause the conversation to gather his thoughts, but Eun-jae didn’t stop. The words hold on felt meaningless in the face of Eun-jae’s momentum.
“Or… should I have fought you off more forcefully? Is that what you’re into, Director?”
Seon-woo honestly wanted to either gape at him in disbelief or click his tongue at the sheer bluntness. But in order to maintain his image as a proper Gwanggong, he couldn’t do any of those things. All he could do was let out a shallow sigh. He reached out a hand as if to calm Eun-jae down.
“Let’s settle down and talk this through.”
Eun-jae glanced at Seon-woo’s hand and replied with a pout.
“I’m just saying it exactly like it is.”
Still, maybe even he realized how embarrassing his own words were, because the moment he said it, he dropped his head. Watching him go quiet, Seon-woo tried to gather his thoughts.
Maybe it was because of that dream, but he had only imagined that Eun-jae might confront him about why he forced himself on him. He had never once considered the possibility that Eun-jae would demand to know why he hadn’t.
No one would reasonably expect a question like that, after all.
In the dream, the Gwanggong had clearly assaulted Eun-jae against his will. But reality had played out differently. Eun-jae had even said he was fine being on top. At first, the whole thing had simply been baffling—but the more Seon-woo thought about it, the more absurd it became.
Sure, he’d considered that Eun-jae might have felt hurt—but to come at him like this, with absolutely zero filter? How was he even supposed to respond to that?
Somehow feeling increasingly wronged, Seon-woo let out a series of sighs—until suddenly, he froze.
Could it be… Seo Eun-jae, too…
“Are you saying all this because you feel wronged?”
He asked without hesitation.
Eun-jae’s behavior did resemble that of a sulking child, rambling on without coherence. If that were the case, then even while he acted like this, he probably knew deep down that it was all emotional. And judging by the slight, bitter smirk that appeared on Eun-jae’s face, Seon-woo’s guess wasn’t far off.
“You sound just like Team Leader.”
He hadn’t expected Seung-hyeon’s name to come up here. The moment Seon-woo faltered at the mention, Eun-jae’s bitter smile deepened. His demeanor now was quiet—unbelievably so, considering this was the same person who, just minutes ago, had angrily demanded to know why Seon-woo hadn’t pounced on him.
At that moment, Seon-woo felt this was the right time.
The system still hadn’t intervened, which meant it wouldn’t interrupt now either. And Eun-jae’s resigned expression seemed to support his resolve. He needed to apologize for everything he’d done up until now. He had to make it clear that he had no intention of playing along with the original storyline, of trying to make things work with Seo Eun-jae.
“Seo Eun-jae.”
Just as he opened his mouth with conviction, Eun-jae quickly shook his head.
“Please don’t say anything. I won’t listen. Or rather—say it later.”
“Eun-jae, but I—”
“No! There’s something more important right now!”
His voice was so urgent and grave that Seon-woo instinctively shut his mouth. Eun-jae continued, not even giving him a moment to speak.
“I debated for a long time about whether I should tell you… but I think you really need to know.”
Seon-woo nodded silently, thinking it was just something Eun-jae was saying to change the subject. But the next words out of his mouth were far more serious than expected.
“Executive Director Gwak Sang-cheol came to see me a few days ago.”
It was a name Seon-woo had nearly forgotten amidst everything that had happened. Honestly, he hadn’t given much serious thought to the Gwanggong’s shady uncle. His behavior had been so blatantly suspicious that it almost made him feel like a red herring—someone too obvious to be truly dangerous. But the moment he heard Eun-jae say the man had sought him out directly, his instincts flared up.
“…Are you serious? Why would he come to you?”
“That’s what I was wondering, too. It didn’t make sense.”
It didn’t sound like a lie, but something about it unsettled him. He gave a slight nod for Eun-jae to continue, and the latter wasted no time. The atmosphere grew tense in an instant.
“He said something that felt like a warning. At the time, I thought it was just a load of bullshit, so I brushed it off. But thinking back on it now… it gave me a really bad feeling. Like—he said it with the confidence of someone who had an ace up his sleeve.”
Seon-woo almost burst out laughing, nearly shattering the tension. The way Eun-jae casually dropped bullshit in the middle of all this was too damn funny. But Eun-jae’s expression was so grim that Seon-woo managed to hold it in. Then came the clincher.
“He said you’re a rotting rope I should never hang onto.”
