“I… was originally planning to quietly live my life while leaving everything to you, Eunwoo, the actual protagonist of Don’t Look for the Sickly Villain. I thought it’d be nice if we could get along, and even better if we got to know each other’s faces. That was pretty much it.”
“Aren’t you being a little too modest?”
Seo Eunwoo chuckled, his eyebrows curving softly.
“It’s not really something I should be butting into, but anyway, I’ve decided to go that route—so you should just do whatever you want too. I mean, you’ve already met me and we’ve gotten to know each other, so your original goal’s been achieved, right? Everything else is just extra. If you think of it that way, maybe it’ll ease your mind?”
That his original goal had already been fulfilled—and that everything beyond that was just a bonus… hearing those words from Seo Eunwoo filled Yeon Yiseo with an unexpected surge of courage.
“That’s true.”
“You are the main character of the original novel that SickVill is based on. But even setting that aside, I think if you really put your mind to it, you could absolutely pull anything off.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“No, really, I mean it.”
When Yeon Yiseo brushed it off lightly, Seo Eunwoo pouted, clearly wounded. Sure, he knew it was the kind of compliment you could just let slide—but Seo Eunwoo’s face made it far too easy to believe he was being completely sincere.
“I mean it, okay?”
“I got it.”
Apparently still unsatisfied with that answer, Seo Eunwoo repeated himself. Even though Yeon Yiseo nodded and said he understood, that response still didn’t seem to satisfy him. His lips pushed out in an adorable little pout—so cute, in fact, that it was hard not to admit it out loud.
“But seriously, I was being sincere. Think it over. The original story kicks off soon, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I will.”
Just like Seo Eunwoo said, the start of the original plot wasn’t far off. But at this point, the daily routine felt so uneventful, Yeon Yiseo could hardly believe things would unfold the same way.
“By the way, don’t you think it’s time we dropped the formal speech? I’m a year older, sure, but let’s talk casually.”
“Mm, okay. Let’s do that.”
“You say that, but you’re still being all formal.”
The way Seo Eunwoo shot him a playful side-eye was way too cute to belong to someone older.
“I—fine, okay. I’ll drop the honorifics.”
Finally giving in, Yeon Yiseo switched to casual speech, and Seo Eunwoo smiled in satisfaction. After that, the two chatted a bit longer before getting up.
“If anything comes up, call me. Actually, even if nothing’s going on, just call, okay?”
“Alright. I will.”
“Hmm… but something tells me you won’t.”
Seo Eunwoo furrowed his brow in suspicion, and Yeon Yiseo laughed, which made Eunwoo laugh along with him.
“Talking to you somehow just puts me at ease.”
Yeon Yiseo felt the same. It was probably because they’d found someone with whom they could share their secrets. He gave a small, slow nod.
“I might not be much help when it comes to company stuff, but at the very least, I can talk with you like this.”
As they talked, Yeon Yiseo found a rare moment of calm. Of course, their actual topic of conversation wasn’t all that peaceful…
Like Seo Eunwoo had mentioned—what would happen if he really did get involved with one of the romanceable characters? It wasn’t like he’d never imagined the possibility.
But even if this was a game, this world was undeniably real for Yeon Yiseo. And from a realistic standpoint, there was no way someone like him would be a match for those flawless people. Not only did he lack the background, but his inner self wasn’t compelling enough to make someone fall for him while ignoring everything else.
That, and the fact that the others were all just… too impressive. Chaebols, oil tycoons, Hollywood stars—people with that kind of resume were just overwhelming to someone as ordinary as Yeon Yiseo.
His memories from his past life as Ahn Hee-woong were just that—past memories. Right now, Yeon Yiseo was simply living in the present, in this world.
Even Seo Eunwoo referred to them not as “characters” but as “figures”—people. If he saw them as actual people rather than fictional game elements, of course his perspective would shift. There was no helping it.
Bathed in warm sunlight, Yeon Yiseo waved as he said goodbye to Seo Eunwoo.
***
“It’s the flu. It’s not a time of year when it usually spreads, so your immune system must be a bit compromised. Take the medicine I prescribed, and make sure to eat well. If you do that, you’ll recover. Just make sure you don’t take it on an empty stomach, or it’ll upset your system.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Yeon Yiseo thanked the doctor and left the exam room. They said that when people push themselves too hard, their bodies break down—and that was exactly what had happened. He’d thought he could hold out just a bit longer, but… no. Back home, sprawled across his bed, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, dazed from the fever.
Come to think of it, it was already late April. He always got sick around this time of year. Probably psychological. With a deep sigh, Yeon Yiseo exhaled a breath so hot it made even breathing difficult.
The room, with its single bed, was just barely more spacious than the place Ahn Hee-woong had lived in during his past life. This was the best he could afford near the company. Whether it was Korea in his previous world or America in this one, rent was obscenely expensive.
He wanted to live somewhere bigger, but it couldn’t be helped. At least he had a bed to lie down in—that was a blessing. Another small mercy was that he had a living room just big enough for an old sofa. As he thought that, Yeon Yiseo closed his eyes and let out another searing breath.
He’d felt a chill in the office yesterday, and sure enough, his fever had spiked to 39.5°C (103.1°F). When Natalie saw his temperature, she freaked out, practically shoved him out the door, and insisted he go rest, saying she’d handle all the paperwork.
But tomorrow was the launch of a major new product. He couldn’t just ditch work on his own.
No matter how sick he was, in the end, it was his fault for not managing his health better. He’d declined Natalie’s offer at first, but as time passed, things only got worse. His vision swam with every blink, and eventually he had no choice but to accept her insistence.
Skipping something important was terrifying, but if he kept pushing through illness, the aftermath would only pile up—and in the end, he would have to deal with all of it.
Back home, after taking the medicine and curling up in bed, he’d hoped he’d start to feel better. For an hour or two after taking the pills, he did feel okay. So it wasn’t unreasonable to believe that a good night’s sleep would be enough.
But this morning—the day of the product launch—he’d tried his best to head to work, but his body just wouldn’t cooperate. He’d texted Natalie saying he’d taken some antipyretics and was coming in, only for her to shoot it down cold, saying he’d collapse at the event hall if he tried.
Wasn’t today the very first event from My Beloved Beta, the source material for SickVill? In this state, he couldn’t even sit upright, let alone show up at the venue.
Looking at it like this, it seemed more and more like the story wasn’t following the original plot. Figures.
Still, just getting to know Seo Eunwoo already felt like a win, like he’d gotten everything one could ask for from an Engaged Player perspective. Realistically, Yeon Yiseo never would’ve had a chance to personally befriend someone from a powerful political family—and a lawyer, no less.
He closed his eyes again, but not from drowsiness—his fever was rising. His body curled up from the chills, muscles screaming in protest. When he took his temperature again, it had climbed to 39.6°C (103.3°F)—even higher than when he left work yesterday.
He needed to eat something to take more medicine, but the soup he’d picked up the day before was already gone. He sighed, regretting not buying more. He slowly forced himself to sit up. He’d have to go out and grab some frozen meals or something—the supermarket nearby probably wasn’t closed yet.
Letting out another weary sigh, Yeon Yiseo pulled on a light jacket and picked up his phone—only for the ringtone to suddenly go off. He checked the screen. It was someone from work.
“Yes, this is Yeon Yiseo.”
—“Ah, Yiseo. It’s David. About the document you shared before—one of our staff accidentally overwrote it with the wrong version. I’m really sorry, but would you mind sending over the original file again?”
“Mm, sure. I can do that.”
Yeon Yiseo didn’t hesitate to respond. Natalie would be at the launch venue today, so there was no one else he could really ask for help. And it was just a simple matter of sending the file again. Besides, it wasn’t like he could just hand over his computer’s security access to someone else. The fever medicine would kick in soon anyway, so he’d probably be okay for a little while.
He tore open a packet of pills and swallowed them with water, even though his stomach was empty, then quickly headed out. He figured if he grabbed a banana or something on the way, it would be fine.
As the meds began to kick in, his fever seemed to drop slightly, but in exchange, his stomach began to burn. By the time he got to the office, the pain was sharp enough that he had to press a hand against his gut.
Taking the elevator up to his desk, he powered on his computer and sent off the file immediately—then made a beeline for the break room. He grabbed a chocolate cookie and ate the whole thing on the spot. It tasted bitter, even though it was supposed to be sweet, and that’s when he realized—his fever had messed with his sense of taste.
