Seung-hyeon was naturally tilting the umbrella toward Seon-woo. Because of that, the area around Seung-hyeon’s back was gradually getting soaked. Gwak Seon-woo, who had been lost in thought for a moment, belatedly realized it and took a step closer to Seung-hyeon. It was only logical—closing the distance would mean less of them would get wet.
But apparently, the system had other ideas.
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 2. Gwanggongs do not share umbrellas with anyone other than their Soo.>
Startled, Seon-woo quickly stepped back from where he’d just approached. There was no way the perceptive Seung-hyeon wouldn’t notice that subtle shift. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he simply tilted the umbrella even further in Seon-woo’s direction.
Not knowing what to say, and mindful of his Gwanggong Score, Seon-woo kept his mouth shut. It was clearly better not to say anything at all. Once again, it was Gwak Seung-hyeon who spoke first.
“Shall I take you home?”
“…Yes.”
His answer came after a brief hesitation, sounding reluctant. Yet Seung-hyeon responded with the same nonchalant ease as always.
“I’ll drive you.”
It wasn’t that Seon-woo disliked hearing that, but something about it didn’t sit right. Instead of accepting or refusing outright, he asked,
“You didn’t bring your own car?”
“No.”
Seung-hyeon answered neatly, without any further elaboration. If he hadn’t brought a car… then did that mean he walked all the way here? From where?
Noticing Seon-woo’s baffled expression, Seung-hyeon turned his head toward him. But again, there was no explanation—just that faint smile, as if he didn’t know anything. That smile was starting to feel a little unsettling.
Rather than argue further, Seon-woo decided to just go along with it. Once he went quiet, Seung-hyeon began walking, umbrella held carefully over Seon-woo’s head.
The two walked all the way to Seon-woo’s car, still awkwardly sharing the umbrella. Perhaps because their shoulders didn’t even brush, there were no further notifications about his Gwanggong Score dropping.
From the way Seung-hyeon naturally guided him toward the passenger side, it was clear he fully intended to drive, just as he’d said. Seon-woo stopped in front of the passenger door and took the car key out of his pocket.
He was just about to reach for the door handle when Seung-hyeon beat him to it. Raindrops splashed onto Seung-hyeon’s hand as he opened the door. Seon-woo shot a quick glance at his face before sliding into the car through the open gap.
Only after seeing Seon-woo lean back in his seat did Seung-hyeon gently close the door and head around to the driver’s side.
His back, already wet from the rain, was starting to feel even colder. The seat was damp—thanks to Eun-jae, who had practically been drenched before sitting there.
But Seon-woo couldn’t bring himself to lift even a finger. He simply let his back grow colder against the soaked seat.
Seung-hyeon settled into the driver’s seat and folded the umbrella before tossing it onto the back seat. Then he turned toward Seon-woo—and seemed to notice something. He spoke quietly.
“The seat’s wet.”
His expressionless face seemed to be processing why. And knowing how quick Seung-hyeon was, it wouldn’t take long for him to piece it together and think of Eun-jae.
For some reason, Seon-woo had the sinking feeling that Seung-hyeon might start interrogating him. Even though he really had nothing to be questioned about, just looking at Seung-hyeon’s face made him tense up.
But, once again, Seung-hyeon didn’t act the way Seon-woo expected.
Without a word, he took off his coat.
When Seon-woo gave him a puzzled look, trying to make sense of what he was doing, Seung-hyeon spoke.
“I’ll lay this down for you.”
No matter how cold or damp his back felt, Seon-woo had no intention of using someone else’s perfectly good coat to sit on and get soaked. Flustered by Seung-hyeon’s offer, he quickly waved his hand.
“Don’t bother. Why would you ruin a perfectly fine jacket over this?”
It was a blunt refusal, but Seung-hyeon didn’t seem the least bit inclined to take the coat back. He simply studied Seon-woo’s face in silence.
With the coat draped over one arm, Seung-hyeon kept his eyes on him, then slowly reached out.
Seon-woo panicked as the hand came closer.
It took a moment to register what he was trying to do. The hand was reaching toward the seatbelt. Was he seriously trying to buckle it for him?
He inwardly scoffed at his own paranoia, thinking there was no way… but the longer it went on, the more flustered he became.
Not because Seung-hyeon’s gesture felt overbearing or made him uncomfortable. In truth, Gwak Seung-hyeon had a strange talent for doing such things without coming off as creepy.
In fact, it was almost hard to believe that someone like that had ever been so despised by the Gwanggong.
Still, that kind of intimate, up-close attentiveness was inevitably overwhelming. Was this just part of his personality? Or was he simply going out of his way for the cousin he believed had lost his memory?
Judging by his actions alone, this was far too generous for someone he once considered an enemy.
Even though Seung-hyeon believed he’d lost his memory, Seon-woo’s attitude toward him was still decidedly cold. Taking that into account, this level of friendliness just didn’t add up.
That was probably why Seon-woo felt an unexplained sense of foreboding creeping in.
Just as he was blankly staring down at Seung-hyeon’s hand reaching for the seatbelt, a notification popped up before his eyes.
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 2. A Gwanggong must not allow anyone other than their Soo to fasten their seatbelt.>
He hadn’t even let him buckle it—Seung-hyeon had only reached toward it—and yet his score still dropped.
Unfair didn’t even begin to cover it. This system had absolutely no mercy.
If he actually let Seung-hyeon fasten the seatbelt, the score would no doubt take another hit.
In the end, Seon-woo pushed the approaching hand away before it could get any closer.
Seung-hyeon just kept smiling at him.
Seon-woo averted his gaze, avoiding the warm expression with vague unease, and forced himself to put on a frosty scowl.
“Do I look like I don’t have hands? Just drive already.”
He didn’t press the matter any further. He didn’t insist on fastening the seatbelt for him, nor did he argue about laying the coat down.
Still, it seemed he had no intention of putting the coat back on either. Instead, Seung-hyeon gently laid it across Seon-woo’s lap. Already, the rainwater was slowly soaking into the coat’s inner lining.
It was awkward, sure—but fumbling to protect someone else’s coat from getting wet felt even more undignified.
In the end, Seon-woo decided the best course was to just leave it alone, trusting that Seung-hyeon would handle it as he saw fit. He slumped back into the seat, letting himself sink completely into the backrest.
Seung-hyeon, seemingly focused on the car’s controls, soon turned on the seat heater.
Feeling the slow warmth spreading against his back, Seon-woo closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they were already parked in front of his apartment complex.
It seemed he’d dozed off for a moment.
Realizing he’d fallen asleep, Seon-woo jolted and quickly turned his head to the side.
Seung-hyeon was sitting with both hands resting on the steering wheel, gazing silently at him.
Did he intentionally let him sleep without waking him?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a notification appeared.
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 2.>
This time, it came without any explanation. Just the alert.
Seon-woo let out a sigh and wiped his face dry with his hands. He must’ve really let his guard down. Dozing off like that… Letting someone else drive while he slept and wasting their time—he should probably at least apologize.
As he considered that, another alert popped up.
<Your current Gwanggong Score is 49.>
<Status Effect Triggered: “Chill” due to Gwanggong Score falling below 50! Raise your Gwanggong Score to resolve this condition.>
Guess he really had gotten too careless.
The fact that he didn’t even notice until the status effect triggered said it all. It was frustrating, but strangely, his mind remained calm. His body, on the other hand, was starting to feel noticeably cold.
Despite the heater, and the brief exposure to rain, the chill didn’t quite make sense. Still, here it was. A weird phenomenon indeed.
Still, this was far better than the headaches and dizziness he’d experienced before. Thankfully, with the Gwanggong’s sturdy body, this level of chill was manageable. If he went upstairs, recovered his score, and got some rest, he’d probably bounce back quickly.
As he sorted all this out in his head, it struck him how much he’d already adapted to this life.
With a faint, self-mocking smirk, Seon-woo turned back toward Seung-hyeon. He had intended to apologize out of courtesy, but that no longer seemed like a good idea. With his score already dropping, he couldn’t afford to give the system another excuse to penalize him.
Avoiding Seung-hyeon’s gaze as much as possible, Seon-woo finally opened his mouth.
“I’ll head in now—”
—thanks for the ride, was what he’d meant to say, but the words caught in his throat.
Seung-hyeon had said he didn’t bring his car. Even if that was a lie, he’d still ridden here in Seon-woo’s vehicle, so the fact remained—he didn’t have a car at the moment.
Sure, he could just take public transport, but in this weather, that’d be a miserable experience. After a moment of hesitation, Seon-woo spoke again.
“…Take the car. You can return it whenever—it doesn’t matter.”
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 1.>
A sigh escaped him before he could stop it. Just showing a sliver of kindness toward Seung-hyeon, and the system docked his score again.
This wasn’t about measuring how “Gwanggong” he was anymore—it felt more like being punished for doing anything the system didn’t approve of.
Still, he didn’t regret it.
Swallowing down another sigh trying to surface, Seon-woo unbuckled his seatbelt. If that whole “aging faster from sighing” thing was true, he’d already added ten years to his life lately.
It was then that Seung-hyeon, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.
“Director, you don’t look so well.”
Seon-woo’s body was still trembling from the chills, so his pallor was hardly surprising. Internally, he thought, Yeah, I know. But he didn’t say it out loud.
Though he appreciated the concern, the longer Seung-hyeon hovered and worried over him, the more detrimental it would be. Even if he felt guilty, he figured he should just say something like, “Not your problem,” and head inside.
But before he could speak, Seung-hyeon gently took hold of his fingers.
“…What are you—”
doing?—was what he meant to ask, but the sentence never made it past his lips.
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 1.>
Yet another alert, right on cue. That made it… what, 47 now?
Biting his probably already-blue lips, Seon-woo shot him a glare.
Seung-hyeon, unfazed, calmly said, “Your hand’s freezing.”
“Let go, and we can talk.”
Seon-woo replied, gripping his hand with firm pressure. He was worried Seung-hyeon might push back again, but he obediently released him. Then, holding Seon-woo’s gaze for a brief moment, he reached over and opened the passenger door.
“Go get some rest. Take a hot bath or something before you catch a cold.”
It was a considerate suggestion—soft and genuine.
And yet, the fact that he said nothing else and simply let Seon-woo go was probably because he understood that Seon-woo didn’t want to be around him.
That kind of quiet empathy was touching.
All the more ironic, then, that the person showing him such gentle concern… was also the one responsible for the state he was currently in.
With a mess of emotions tangled inside him, Seon-woo kept his mouth shut. There was no point in dragging out the conversation. The best option was to go home and rest.
As he opened the car door, Seung-hyeon watched him from where he leaned slightly against the steering wheel.
The engine came to life again, suggesting he intended to take Seon-woo’s offer and drive the car back.
Seon-woo started walking toward the building entrance. But after just a few steps, the sound of a window lowering came from behind.
“Director.”
He only glanced sideways, subtly shifting his gaze.
Seung-hyeon had one arm resting casually against the open window as he looked straight at him. That serene smile—the one Seon-woo had thought might start to feel a little scary—lingered on his lips as he spoke.
“I think… things between us could actually turn out pretty well.”
The words came out of nowhere.
And Seon-woo knew exactly what he should do in that moment—scoff and ignore him.
But he didn’t.
Without a word, Seon-woo turned his back to him and walked toward the apartment entrance. This time, he didn’t look back.
