Getting drunk doesn’t mean you forget everything.
I opened my eyes in an unfamiliar place, then shut them again with a muttered curse. I couldn’t believe I’d lost control in front of someone I barely knew—utterly pathetic.
Pushing aside the neatly tucked blanket, I sat up. A dull throb pulsed in my head, making me wince. Just as I was about to climb out of bed, the door eased open and Yeo Wonjin stepped in.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
He smiled warmly as he approached. I gave him a slight nod and spoke.
“Sorry for the trouble.”
“I was the one who brought you here.”
He shook his head and held out a glass.
“Water. I figured you’d be thirsty when you woke up.”
“Thank you.”
I accepted it and took a long sip. The dryness in my throat I hadn’t even noticed began to ease, and I could feel the tension in my face soften.
Yeo Wonjin took the empty glass from me, looking as neat and put-together as he had the day before. In contrast, I… glanced down at my wrinkled clothes. Catching that, he let out a quiet sigh and said,
“You probably didn’t sleep very comfortably. I should’ve changed you into something more suitable.”
“…Excuse me?”
He really had a knack for saying things that sent a chill down my spine. I grimaced and glanced at my watch. It was still well before my alarm.
I checked the messages I’d missed from Min Yugeon since yesterday’s end-of-day, then lifted my head.
“Mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Of course. It’s that way.”
I followed the direction he pointed and stepped into the bathroom. After closing the door, I read Min Yugeon’s messages.
[Suho, even if you’re feeling lazy, don’t skip dinner. And don’t get too lonely just ‘cause I’m not around.]
When I didn’t respond to that one, another message had come in during the night.
[Still working this late?]
I’d never ignored his messages—not the nagging, not the lame jokes—so it made sense he’d start to feel something was off.
By the time morning came and I still hadn’t replied, the worry was plain in his final message.
[Nothing’s wrong… right?]
“……”
If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve just told him I had dinner plans. Now I’d made him worry for no reason.
I sent a reply saying I hadn’t checked my messages because I was out late having dinner with the Vice Captain.
After a quick rinse and tidying up, I stepped out of the bathroom. Yeo Wonjin greeted me with another soft smile.
“You should have something to eat.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to head out.”
I averted my eyes slightly as I spoke. Staying for breakfast after already imposing on him felt like too much. Not to mention how awkward it was to be around someone who’d seen me in that state.
Yeo Wonjin’s bright expression dimmed immediately.
“The lab’s not that far from here…”
He mumbled to himself. Even if it were farther, it wouldn’t have made a difference—there was enough time to catch one of the trains that looped through most of the ship. But I’d already made up my mind. I gave him a silent bow and headed for the door.
“Researcher.”
Yeo Wonjin followed behind me, sounding reluctant, and gently caught my arm. I stopped in surprise and turned to face him. He looked like he had something to say.
“There’s something I want to tell you.”
He hesitated, lowering his eyes briefly before meeting mine.
“You might not want to hear this… but it’s about Min Sanghan.”
“…You mean the Director?”
The sudden mention of Min Sanghan caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow and studied Yeo Wonjin, who quietly nodded.
“Yes. You’d be better off not trusting him too much.”
His voice and eyes were both deadly serious.
“People who hunger for power tend to be the most shameless.”
“What do you mean…?”
The words caught in my throat.
Wasn’t he essentially saying Min Sanghan was an overly ambitious, shameless man?
The suddenness of it made me wary. My expression stiffened as I looked straight at Yeo Wonjin.
But there was no trace of petty glee or satisfaction in his delicately sculpted face—none of that sick thrill some people get from turning others against each other. Strangely enough, he genuinely looked like someone offering a warning out of concern.
“Someone like Min Sanghan… can do things most people would be haunted by their whole lives—and still sleep soundly at night.”
“……”
“Pretending to be a good person is effortless for someone like that. What you see of him may not be the full picture.”
His tone was quiet and composed. I kept my mouth shut.
If he and Min Sanghan had some personal grudge, then sure, I could see why he’d say this. Now that I thought about it, there had been a weird tension between them during the demonstration, even though they barely spoke.
But that didn’t mean I could accept what Yeo Wonjin was saying so easily.
Min Sanghan wasn’t just anyone—he was Min Yugeon’s father and someone I was personally close with.
No—what bothered me more was this: making sweeping accusations without proof, and doing so out of the blue, didn’t sit right with me.
I frowned and shook off Yeo Wonjin’s hand.
“Whatever issues you have with him, pulling a third party into it isn’t appropriate.”
My cold response made him pause.
“Just because the Vice Captain doesn’t think highly of the Director doesn’t mean I have to share that opinion.”
The disappointment in my voice was impossible to miss.
I’d thought he might actually be a decent person—but this?
Still, I had no intention of lashing out further. If that concern in his voice was real, then it wouldn’t be right to treat someone like that with hostility.
Yeo Wonjin looked at me with a steady, calm gaze. Not resentful—more like he still had something he wanted to say.
He opened his mouth a few times, hesitated, and finally let out a long sigh.
“…I was out of line, Researcher.”
“……”
“I’m sorry.”
It was a clean, sincere apology.
At least he admitted it quickly.
Maybe the part of me that felt like he regretted it was just my nerves still on edge.
The awkwardness still lingered, but I gave a slight nod. Yeo Wonjin, who had stepped back and was watching me carefully, dropped his eyebrows in a defeated sort of way.
With the tension still thick in the air, I firmly refused his offer to see me out and left the house.
***
Yeo Wonjin probably didn’t realize it, but I already knew Min Sanghan was ambitious.
He put a lot of stock in social status—enough to argue with his own family over it and never back down.
But he wasn’t alone. This cramped society was full of people obsessed with where they stood.
Still, the Min Sanghan I knew now was someone living with regret.
He shared a house with Lee Minha but lived more like a stranger. And with Min Yugeon, the two barely even crossed paths—they were worse than strangers now.
I’d seen him reflect on all of it with quiet sadness, saying he should’ve cherished them more.
That didn’t feel like the kind of thing a villain would say.
At least, not to me.
Of course, I hadn’t gone digging, but I was sure Yeo Wonjin had his own reasons for disliking Min Sanghan.
The hangover from the night before hadn’t fully worn off. After grinding through the workday with a heavy body, I headed home with the team.
On the way back, Lee Seorim and Seol Young-jun got into an intense debate over what to eat for dinner once we left the restricted zone.
Watching them, I was reminded again how much joy food could bring to people.
Even though the ingredients were limited—just what could be cultivated on the ship and the usual lab-grown meat—people still found endless ways to cook with them.
A few high-skill chefs, formally trained, ran some of the better spots on board.
Now that I thought about it, the place I’d eaten with Yeo Wonjin the night before had an impressive variety of dishes. The food wasn’t bad either.
Not as good as what Min Yugeon made, but close.
After parting ways with the cheerful Seorim and Young-jun, I arrived home.
The house was quiet when I walked in.
Was he out? I figured he would’ve come back this morning.
I stepped into the living room with a faint sense of unease—
—and found a large figure curled up on the sofa.
“…Min Yugeon?”
“Mm. You’re back.”
Min Yugeon sat with his knees pulled tight to his chest, staring right at me.
Up close, his expression was… oddly sulky.
I froze for a second without meaning to.
“…What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout, feigning innocence.
When I didn’t say anything, too baffled to respond, he hugged himself even tighter.
“I’m just resting, okay?”
“……”
“It’s not like I spent all night worrying something happened to you. It’s not like I’m upset you didn’t come home or anything. I’m not sitting here like this because you stayed out without saying a word.”
He was very obviously telling me exactly why he was upset.
Thinking back, he hadn’t responded after I texted him earlier.
I figured he’d gotten the message, understood, and moved on.
But no.
He was definitely sulking.
