“I’ve only ever played a VR game once!”
At that moment, Seung-hyeon recalled the time he went to the arcade with Seon-woo. The game they’d played together involved wearing VR goggles and shooting down monsters in a 3D environment. Seon-woo had looked like the type who had never even set foot in an arcade, let alone touched a VR game. And yet, his shooting skills had been absolutely overwhelming. Despite giving it his all, Seung-hyeon had suffered a crushing defeat.
“Is there anything he can’t do?”
His thoughts drifted again, and once more, an unconscious, gentle smile crept across his lips. Snapping himself back to the present, Seung-hyeon forced his expression to go stiff again. According to that robotic voice—eerily like an AI system—Gwak Seung-hyeon now apparently had to become a “Gwanggong.” Whatever that meant. No matter how he looked at it, that one measly experience with a VR shooting game wasn’t going to help him here.
“So… I can’t cook anything myself, I can’t put dressing on a salad, I can’t talk too much, and I have to speak in military formal speech?”
Seung-hyeon listed off what he’d heard so far, wearing a baffled expression.
“So then what’s a Gwanggong supposed to be? A diabetic? Someone who can’t cook? A soldier?”
…He didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on. Still wearing that perplexed look, Seung-hyeon resumed walking. Gwanggong or not, he was still an office worker. An office worker who, no less, happened to be dating his boss. Without forgetting his morning duty to get ready for work, he stepped into the bathroom.
A fresh-scented air freshener filled the space. Like the living room, the interior was kept in monochrome tones, but compared to the decor, there were quite a few personal items.
It didn’t feel cluttered or overdone, but compared to the typical man who’d settle for just a single bar of soap and one bottle of shampoo, this place was well stocked with various toiletries. There were even bath products neatly arranged on a shelf above the tub—and nestled among them, a cute little rubber duck.
As he surveyed the bathroom, Seung-hyeon couldn’t help thinking, I’m definitely going to get nitpicked for something again, huh.
<The player’s surrounding environment is far too un-Gwanggong-like.>
As expected. Just as he thought. Probably going to get told his Gwanggong Score dropped again.
But what came next was far beyond anything he’d anticipated.
<System error detected.>
<System reboot in progress.>
<Loading……>
<……>
<System reset failed.>
The system, which had been chattering away and popping up windows on its own, suddenly went quiet after flashing a single message: reset failed. Seung-hyeon stood there, visibly confused—or perhaps just dumbfounded—as he listened to the whole thing. But no follow-up came, even after he waited a moment. With work quickly approaching, he didn’t have time to keep waiting around for this self-important AI to get its act together. As if nothing had happened, Seung-hyeon stepped into the shower booth.
He grabbed the showerhead and turned the handle toward the hot water setting. But even after opening the valve, the shower stayed stubbornly dry. Was it broken? It had worked perfectly fine just yesterday.
Stepping back out of the booth, Seung-hyeon tried the overhead rain shower instead—something he rarely used. Thankfully, water did come out this time, but it was freezing cold. Even after waiting for it to warm up, the temperature stayed ice-cold.
Looks like it really is broken… With a resigned grimace, Seung-hyeon stepped into the cold stream.
“Shit, that’s freezing…”
His muttered complaint, half-laughing in disbelief, had barely left his lips when the supposedly dormant system suddenly chimed in again.
<Gwanggong Score has dropped by 4 points!>
<A Gwanggong does not use crude exclamations just because the water is cold. Also, a true Gwanggong only showers in cold water.>
He didn’t even care anymore about the criticism. The real issue was that there was apparently no way to get hot water at the moment. Still, he couldn’t go to work without showering, and he didn’t have time to delay any further. Ignoring the system entirely, Seung-hyeon stepped fully into the frigid spray and quickly finished washing up.
When he stepped out of the booth, his reflection in the mirror showed a pale face. Cranking the hair dryer up to its highest heat setting, he used it not only to dry his hair but also to warm up his chilled body. Only then did he finally manage to finish getting ready and leave the house.
But Seung-hyeon’s trials didn’t end there—not until he made it to the office.
***
Just his luck, he came across someone surrounded by thugs in the parking lot and stepped in to help—only to have his Gwanggong Score drop again. Then, when he finally got into his car, the system scolded him for driving himself, declaring that Gwanggongs don’t drive their own cars.
The endless barrage of system nagging completely threw off his routine. After parking at the company lot, he was supposed to stop by the café to pick up drinks and snacks for Seon-woo—his most important daily ritual.
Thanks to all that, by the time Seung-hyeon arrived at the company, he was in a slightly irritated mood. The only silver lining was that, at least, his quick instincts had helped him get a rough grasp of the situation.
So what exactly is a Gwanggong?
Thinking back on when and where the system had scolded him and docked his Gwanggong Score, and when it had praised him for acting “Gwanggong-like,” Seung-hyeon began to piece things together.
And once again, what came to mind was a memory of Seon-woo.
Back then, he and Seon-woo had been sitting side by side in the living room, watching TV together. The channel they happened to flip to was airing a weekend drama—one that had apparently hit record-breaking ratings.
On screen, the male lead, Kang-hoon, was grabbing the female lead, Se-yeon, roughly by the wrist.
— “Where do you think you’re going? Who was that man from earlier?”
— “That has nothing to do with you, Director!”
— “Ha… Nothing to do with me?”
— “Yes! Men like you… I’m sick of it. I’ve had enough!”
They’d tuned in mid-episode, so it was hard to follow the full story, but from what he could tell, there seemed to be some misunderstanding between the two. Se-yeon believed that Kang-hoon, being a rich and powerful man, was just playing around with someone like her and would never marry her. Meanwhile, Kang-hoon, completely oblivious to her feelings, felt betrayed.
The two plunged into a cold war. As a cold and emotionally stunted chaebol, Kang-hoon couldn’t express his feelings honestly, so instead, he treated Se-yeon even more harshly.
— “Ms. Choi Se-yeon. You call this a proper report? These documents haven’t even been reviewed.”
— “What? I—”
— “I don’t want to hear it. Redo everything and finish it before leaving today.”
What had Seung-hyeon thought at the time? Probably that the male lead was acting petty, letting his personal issues affect work like that. He remembered thinking that the guy’s whole vibe seemed like a cheap imitation of Gwak Seon-woo—minus the class—and that rubbed him the wrong way too. But when he turned to look at Seon-woo, he’d seen a surprisingly serious and pensive expression on his face as he watched the drama.
Curious, Seung-hyeon had asked what he thought.
“Director. Do you like this drama? Are you a fan of the main character?”
“…No, it’s not that.”
Seon-woo had looked oddly conflicted. His expression was tinged with discomfort, with a trace of some unknown, quiet sorrow.
“It’s… pitiful. Kinda sad.”
Was he talking about the female lead being mistreated by the male lead? Seon-woo’s face had looked so genuinely empathetic that Seung-hyeon hadn’t asked for clarification. Still, something told him that wasn’t exactly what Seon-woo had meant.
Even now, Seung-hyeon didn’t fully understand what that expression on Seon-woo’s face had meant. Pushing the memory aside for now, he tapped the steering wheel and opened his mouth.
“So what you’re saying is—be rich and handsome, but act like a total asshole. Have expensive taste and zero warmth. Basically… just live like that?”
<……>
“Would you mind answering me? I know you’re listening.”
By now, Seung-hyeon was behaving as if he’d grown accustomed to the system’s voice. His attitude was casual, like dealing with a frenemy—annoying but familiar. And finally, for the first time, the system offered something resembling a real answer.
<Not exactly the same, but similar.>
The reply sounded confident, though Seung-hyeon had been half-doubting his own theory when he said it, so it was oddly satisfying to hear. Still, even if he’d guessed right, it didn’t change the fact that the whole thing was ridiculous.
With a lopsided smile, Seung-hyeon said,
“You actually think that’s cool? Isn’t it kind of outdated?”
<Gwanggong Score has dropped by 3 points.>
Oof, hit a nerve, he thought, amused. Even the cold, mechanical voice didn’t faze him. His tone softened slightly, almost as if trying to soothe.
“Not saying it’s all bad. I’m just saying—not everyone in the world is like that. And not everyone like that is attractive, either.”
<Gwanggong Score has dropped by 2 points.>
Though he was still talking to it like it was a real person, it was becoming clear—this thing was more machine than anything else. Seung-hyeon had no intention of earnestly persuading a disembodied voice, so he just raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself, settling it with that.
There was definitely something off about the system’s demands. If he followed them to the letter, he wouldn’t become a charming man—he’d just end up an asshole. He still stood by his opinion that the male lead from that drama was an outdated caricature. But at least now he had a clear idea of the “type” the system wanted.
And in Seung-hyeon’s mind, the most ideal version of that type could only be Gwak Seon-woo. Wealthy, handsome, seemingly cold, yet always composed and dignified in his demeanor. Seung-hyeon’s lips curled into a faint smile.
If someone like him were dropped into this bizarre situation, he’d probably handle it far better than Seung-hyeon ever could. Of course, Seon-woo wasn’t some jerk with a trash personality—he was kind-hearted, and everything he did came from a place of decency.
Sure, most of their coworkers were still terrified of Seon-woo, but to Seung-hyeon, that image couldn’t be further from the truth. He meant every word of it, without a shred of irony.
Well… penalties are a thing, after all.
Despite that, there wasn’t even a trace of anxiety or tension on Seung-hyeon’s face. In fact, if anything, he looked oddly confident.
