“Uh, Team Leader. Hello.”
At the sound of that voice, Seung-hyeon’s previously calm expression turned icy cold as he slowly turned his head. Just as he’d guessed from the voice, the one approaching him now with a cup of coffee in his mouth was Eun-jae.
The moment their eyes met, a frigid gaze swept over Eun-jae from head to toe. Soon after, Seung-hyeon let out a short sigh and turned away. A flicker of confusion crossed Eun-jae’s face.
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
Right after Eun-jae’s bewildered voice rang out, the system’s robotic tone echoed once more in Seung-hyeon’s ears.
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 3!>
So this actually works.
It was the first time the system had ever delivered a positive notification. He’d acted like the “bastard” the system kept asking for, just to see if it would do anything—but the results came faster than expected. Truthfully, he had figured if nothing came of it, he’d just count it as messing with Seo Eun-jae for fun and move on.
As expected, though, the voice seemed to be something only he could hear. Eun-jae looked confused but didn’t seem to hear a thing.
He double-checked himself, patting down his arms and legs as if searching for anything out of place. Once he confirmed he looked exactly the same as usual, he tilted his head in puzzled silence.
“Team Leader? Is something wrong? D-did I do something?”
“Not really. It’s fine.”
He replied in the coldest voice he could muster. Even on a good day, Seung-hyeon’s neutral expression came off as harsh without a smile—but now, facing Eun-jae with that same frosty look, it had to be especially jarring.
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 2.>
He felt a little bad, but thanks to that awkward exchange, the score that had dropped so drastically had started to bounce back in no time. It wasn’t much compared to what he’d lost, but at this pace, he’d recover it soon enough. Seung-hyeon left Eun-jae standing there, flustered and unsure what to do, and stepped into the elevator. He even gave a light wave toward Eun-jae, who still stood there in a daze.
And just before Eun-jae could hop on, Seung-hyeon pressed the “close door” button.
Eun-jae might not have fully grasped what had happened, but he clearly felt like he’d been messed with. From beyond the closing elevator doors, Eun-jae’s voice rang out, shouting:
“Ah, come on, Team Leader! Hey! Hey, Gwak Seung-hyeon!”
***
“Manager Seo.”
“Yes, Team Leader.”
“Why is your desk such a mess? Do you even intend to take your job seriously?”
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 3.>
“Assistant Manager Seo Eun-jae.”
“Oh—yes, Team Leader.”
“What the hell is this document you submitted? There’s not a single thing right in here.”
“W-what?”
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 2.>
After a few more rounds of this, even Eun-jae—who had been trying his best to keep calm—finally hit his limit. His eyes darted quickly around the office. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, all the other team members happened to be away from their desks.
Once upon a time, Seung-hyeon and Eun-jae had been something like romantic rivals, but that grudge had long since faded. At least, Eun-jae thought it had. He couldn’t think of any reason for things to still be tense between them. In fact, their relationship was a weird mix of oil and water and cat-and-mouse—fighting constantly, unable to get along, yet somehow still managing to work surprisingly well together. To outsiders, their dynamic probably looked like casual bickering between close friends.
But what the hell had gotten into Seung-hyeon today? Why was he suddenly nitpicking him to death like this?
Looking around again, Eun-jae finally snapped.
“What is wrong with you today, Team Leader?! Why are you acting like a different person all of a sudden? Did you eat something bad?!”
It wasn’t exactly the tone one should take with their superior, but in Eun-jae’s defense, he had more than enough justification.
First of all—this wasn’t the first time Seung-hyeon had picked on him for something trivial today. If he counted, it’d be at least ten times.
Second, they usually got along decently well.
Third—and perhaps most importantly—the only reason they’d been able to maintain even that much civility was because Eun-jae had swallowed his past guilt over Seung-hyeon and Seon-woo’s relationship and endured it all with quiet patience, doing his best to support them like a responsible junior employee should.
But even as Eun-jae fumed, pounding his chest in frustration, Seung-hyeon’s ears were ringing with something else entirely.
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 3.>
To be honest, he did feel guilty. This wasn’t his usual behavior, and Eun-jae hadn’t done a single thing to deserve the scolding. He knew that.
Still, watching Eun-jae getting all worked up and flustered while his Gwanggong Score kept climbing—it was hard not to see the humor in it. The whole situation felt like some kind of absurd comedy sketch. As Seung-hyeon turned away to hide his increasingly awkward expression, Eun-jae, still fuming, snatched up the documents he’d been scolded over.
He opened the folder. From his expression, it seemed like he thought Seung-hyeon was nitpicking over nothing again. And honestly, it was hard to blame him—Seung-hyeon had already called him out multiple times today over seemingly trivial things.
But then—
As Eun-jae looked through the documents, his face gradually stiffened. A moment later, he turned to Seung-hyeon, pale as a sheet. Seung-hyeon met his gaze with a neutral expression and asked calmly,
“Checked it?”
“If you have, fix it and get it back to me by the end of the day.”
“I’m sorry, Team Leader. There really was a mistake… No, it was my mistake. I made assumptions and acted rudely…”
The problem was—there actually was something wrong with Eun-jae’s work. Just moments ago, he’d been slapping his own chest in outrage, but now, all of that was gone. Instead, his expression had turned dead serious, and he bowed his head in sincere apology.
And what was going through Seung-hyeon’s head in that moment?
Not much different from before. Something along the lines of: This is ridiculous. My Gwanggong Score is going up from this? Sorry, Eun-jae, but seriously… what the hell.
The fact that Eun-jae had actually made an error didn’t help. It just so happened that today of all days, he’d made a mistake in a document that was supposed to be sent to a client. From Eun-jae’s perspective, it was a gut-wrenching coincidence. In truth, it wasn’t even that serious of a mistake—and on any other day, Seung-hyeon wouldn’t have even brought it up.
“No need to apologize. Just finish your work.”
<Gwanggong Score has increased by 2.>
Though a hint of suspicion still lingered on Eun-jae’s face—clearly unsettled by Seung-hyeon’s sudden change in demeanor—he didn’t press the issue any further. After offering another deep bow of apology, he quietly returned to his seat. Seung-hyeon gave him a brief glance before shifting his gaze back to his monitor.
A mix of Is that guy seriously losing it…? and No, I’m the idiot who made such a dumb mistake played across Eun-jae’s face. Seung-hyeon couldn’t blame him—it was a face of someone caught in a whirlwind of confusion. Honestly, the tone of voice he’d used didn’t sit well with him either.
But… surprisingly, he was adjusting faster than expected. It was even starting to feel oddly familiar. Maybe it was because he’d borrowed a bit of Gwak Seon-woo’s tone when practicing?
Of course, Seon-woo would never go around unfairly nitpicking at his subordinates like this…
The moment Seon-woo crossed his mind, a reflexive smile tugged at the corner of Seung-hyeon’s lips.
Just then, a notification popped up on his office messenger—Gwak Seon-woo was calling him. As if to prove that old saying true: speak of the devil and he shall appear.
In an instant, Seung-hyeon’s expression transformed into one of unfiltered happiness. Without hesitation, he stood up from his seat.
***
In front of Gwak Seon-woo’s office, Seung-hyeon found himself deep in thought like never before.
Of course, going to see Seon-woo had always involved some level of anxiety for Seung-hyeon—not in a bad way, but in a good one. It was because he always wanted to look his best for him, to come off well. That nervous anticipation had always been there.
But even so, he’d never once hesitated like this at the door to Seon-woo’s office.
His current Gwanggong Score: 80.
It had dropped all the way down to 61 after navigating through a minefield of obstacles just to get to the office, so he’d definitely made the most of Eun-jae’s “help.”
One thing was absolutely certain… If he acted around Gwak Seon-woo the way he usually did, all the points he’d worked so hard to earn would crash right back to zero.
But what was he supposed to do? Treat Seon-woo the way he had treated Seo Eun-jae? That was completely out of the question.
No matter what penalty the system threw at him for letting the score drop, there was no way Seung-hyeon could ever change how he behaved around Seon-woo.
Letting out a soft sigh, Seung-hyeon soon smoothed his expression into something gentle and natural, as if the moment of hesitation had never happened. With his usual smile, he pushed open the office door.
“Director. I’m here.”
He greeted him with a smile, and Seon-woo—who had been reviewing documents—lifted his head and acknowledged him with a slight nod.
That expression, which might have seemed cold or indifferent to anyone else, devoid of a smile.
But Seung-hyeon had already noticed it—the way Seon-woo’s features softened the instant their eyes met.
“What did you call me for?”
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 2! Please be mindful of your tone.>
It seemed the system didn’t demand a perfect string of formal sentence endings like -da, -na, -kka, but it clearly judged that this one didn’t pass muster.
Ignoring the system, Seung-hyeon walked straight over to Seon-woo.
Standing beside Seon-woo’s chair, he leaned down, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the desk. As he gazed down at him, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Seon-woo’s lips.
“It’s not that I needed anything… Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.”
“I felt bad about heading out first this morning. And… I missed you.”
Far too romantic a line for someone casually staring down at documents. The corners of Seung-hyeon’s mouth loosened on their own.
“I missed you too,” he replied without hesitation, his voice familiar and easy.
Then he lowered himself onto his knees.
Resting his elbows on the desk, he folded his arms like a pillow and set his head atop them.
“You should’ve woken me up.”
“You looked like you were sleeping so well.”
“I slept fine. Just… when I opened my eyes and you weren’t there, it felt kind of lonely.”
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 2!>
Seung-hyeon lowered one hand beneath the desk—and a moment later, their fingers intertwined beneath the table.
Looking down at their joined hands, Seon-woo murmured,
“You must’ve been tired.”
“Waking up without you there… yeah, it felt a little lonely.”
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 4!>
The system was shaving off points in real time, but Seung-hyeon acted as if he couldn’t hear a thing.
What truly irritated him wasn’t the alerts themselves—but the fact that the pop-up windows kept partially blocking Seon-woo’s face. Still, there was no way he could show even the slightest hint of annoyance in front of Seon-woo. As a result, not a flicker of displeasure showed on his face.
Unaware of any of this, Seon-woo let out a quiet chuckle and replied,
“Didn’t seem like you missed me, considering I didn’t get a single message.”
Noooo se quedó en la mejor parte 😭