“By the way, where did you get that from? I’d like to buy it for myself when I can afford it later.”
He finally voiced the question that had been lingering in his mind throughout the meal. Alexander lifted his shoulders slightly before responding.
“I contacted a chef who works at a Korean restaurant. The place is called Gyeonghoeru—have you heard of it?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of it.”
It was a high-end Korean restaurant even Yeon Yiseo recognized by name. He looked down at the now-empty bowl of samgyetang he’d just devoured. A place that upscale probably charged no less than $90 for a single dish. If the ginseng used was a premium-grade one, it might’ve cost even more.
Of course, a high price doesn’t always guarantee quality—but it rarely leads to disappointment, either. This meal had proven that point. Which only made it more frustrating. He knew he’d probably never be able to afford something like this for himself again.
As he stared wistfully at the empty bowl, Alexander continued.
“While you were asleep, I got a call from the CEO of Dymine.”
Dymine’s CEO—that meant Ethan. The moment he heard the name, all the relaxed satisfaction that had lingered from the meal evaporated, his nerves going taut in an instant.
“My boss called?”
“Yes. I explained the situation to him.”
Ethan had already caught on to the nature of Yiseo’s and Alexander’s connection. And now he knew about this, too—this sealed it. Yiseo groaned inwardly at the thought of how Ethan might react. If Ethan’s personality in SickVill was anything to go by, he was someone who never gave up once he became obsessed.
“I see… Thank you.”
Yiseo answered calmly, but his thoughts were anything but.
In the game, there was only one scenario in which the target characters gave up on pursuing the protagonist, Seo Eunwoo. According to the default system settings, once a character’s affection level reached 100, all other target characters’ affection levels would automatically drop to below the friend threshold.
But players had complained. Why force a single choice? Why not allow two, three, or even all characters to be romanced simultaneously? Those requests had flooded in.
As a result, they’d been preparing a massive update to introduce optional polyamory settings. And Yiseo—back when he was Ahn Hee-woong in his previous life—had died in an accident while working overtime to implement that system.
Whether that update had ever gone live or not, he didn’t know. He’d have to check with Seo Eunwoo at some point to find out.
The important fact now was that Yeon Yiseo wasn’t currently in a relationship with anyone. If it was truly the case that he had replaced Seo Eunwoo in this world, then it would be incredibly difficult to handle Ethan’s warped obsession alone.
In Ethan’s route, if you fell into the obsession ending, you’d go through things that could only be romanticized because it was a fictional game. In reality, it was just cruelty disguised as love—things too horrible to even imagine.
…
Setting all that aside for now, a game is a game, and reality is reality. He couldn’t afford to forget that.
Even if Ahn Hee-woong’s system had made it into the game, there was no guarantee this world functioned by the same rules. It was far too soon to make assumptions—nothing was confirmed yet.
Still, it was hard to dismiss the thought when everyone he’d met so far had turned out to be a character from SickVill.
“Mr. Yeon.”
Yiseo blinked as his name was called. His eyes were dry—he must’ve been staring off for quite a while. He’d been so deep in thought, he’d forgotten to blink.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Oh… nothing, really. Sorry, what did you say just now?”
“I asked if you’d be interested in becoming my secretary.”
“…Excuse me?”
The words were so surreal, he wasn’t sure he’d heard them right. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly.
“Can you repeat that?”
“I said—would you consider becoming my secretary. And I’m not just saying it. It’s a formal offer.”
“May I ask why, all of a sudden?”
He needed to clarify. Alexander wouldn’t say something like this without a reason. Unless he’d picked up on something during the call with Ethan. But even if he had—he was Ethan’s brother. Why would he go so far as to poach his brother’s secretary?
Unless… he wasn’t planning on staying on good terms with Ethan anymore.
“I suppose I could brush it off and say it’s not a bad deal for you either, but I have a feeling that won’t convince you. So I’ll be honest. Let’s just call this an overstep from an older brother, shall we?”
Though Alexander spoke as if joking, Yiseo understood what he meant. He must’ve picked up on something during that call with Ethan.
Since Alexander had been honest enough to explain that much, it didn’t seem right to keep pressing him. There was no guarantee he’d explain any further if asked, anyway.
“…Mm. What would the salary be?”
Yiseo’s next question was entirely pragmatic. As soon as he asked, he wondered if it was rude to ask the CEO that directly—but if it was a serious offer, there was no avoiding it.
Alexander simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem offended—on the contrary, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“A practical question. Given your current role and how long you’ve been working, I can make an estimate.”
Then he named a figure—$20,000 higher than Yiseo’s current annual salary. Twenty grand more. After stating the number, Alexander added, “That should be about equivalent to what you’d get in severance if you stayed at Dymine for a full year and then left.”
There was even less reason to turn him down now. Still, he hesitated—saying yes outright felt premature.
“The work would be… different, I imagine.”
“You did well at Dymine. I’m confident you’ll do just as well here.”
Alexander’s tone was easy and confident. And he wasn’t wrong. Dymine had been Yiseo’s first time working as a secretary, but the job responsibilities probably weren’t that different across companies.
He still didn’t know whether it was wise to accept so easily, but this was a rare opportunity. Opportunities like this didn’t come by often. To receive one, to seize it, and to endure it—all of that depended on his own ability.
If he turned this down and went back to being Ethan’s secretary, he’d have no choice but to stay on constant alert. He wouldn’t even be able to protest if Ethan made unreasonable demands.
Trying to avoid that would only lead to one outcome—he’d have to resign. Reentering the job market would be tough, and there was no guarantee Ethan would give him a reference letter.
He may have gotten tangled with Alexander under strange circumstances, but there was no emotional attachment involved. Which made it better. Alexander was responsible, professional—and unlikely to lose control or lash out irrationally.
If there was a lifeline extended to him now, it was Alexander.
After thinking it through, Yiseo straightened his posture in the chair.
“Understood. I’ll do my best, CEO. I look forward to working with you.”
As he reached out for a handshake, he thought he caught a flicker of surprise in Alexander’s expression. Alexander gripped his hand firmly and gave it a light shake.
“I look forward to it as well, Mr. Yeon.”
“Would it be alright if I start the day after tomorrow? I need time to wrap things up at Dymine.”
At that, Alexander paused for a moment, then exhaled lightly before replying.
“If I suggested another way, I’m sure you’d insist anyway, right? Alright.”
He agreed more easily than expected. Yiseo had thought he might try to dissuade him from returning to Dymine even once—but he didn’t. He must’ve known Yiseo wouldn’t back down.
Yiseo politely declined Alexander’s offer to drive him home once he felt better. It wasn’t until evening that he finally left the house.
***
He timed his visit to Dymine to coincide with Ethan’s supposed out-of-office schedule—but just his luck, they ran into each other anyway. Maybe the schedule had been canceled last-minute.
“Mr. Yeon.”
Ethan’s voice called out to him. Yiseo offered a small, polite bow. He couldn’t deny the unease swirling in his gut, but he relied on one belief to ground himself—Ethan wouldn’t try anything in front of the entire office.
“I heard the news.”
His tone was stiff. He extended a hand for a handshake—and Yiseo had no real reason to refuse.
But even so, the memory of the pressure and intimidation Ethan had once used on him hadn’t faded. It lingered as fear. That’s what it was—fear.
Still, he couldn’t just ignore him either. So Yiseo cautiously reached out and took his hand.
