“I’m going to head out now.”
And just like that, it really was the end. As he left behind the words, “Take care, and get some rest once you’re inside,” Eun-jae gave a polite bow one last time. Then, holding up his umbrella, he turned and walked toward the parking lot where he’d said he’d left his car.
Seon-woo stared at his back for a long while, his gaze tangled with conflicting thoughts. Whether it was Gwak Seung-hyeon or Seo Eun-jae, he couldn’t figure out what either of them were thinking.
Seung-hyeon reached out later that night. It wasn’t so late as to be considered rude, but it was still an odd time—not quite evening, not quite night.
[You remember that tomorrow is the Chairman’s birthday, right?]
Still, it was a legitimate reason to contact him. As Seon-woo hesitated to respond, another message came in immediately after.
[I’ll come pick you up in the morning.]
Honestly, it was a tricky situation to agree to. Unlike when he was with Eun-jae—when even doing nothing would increase his Gwanggong Score—just being near Seung-hyeon made that score drop.
But worrying about that now was pointless. Seung-hyeon already had something on him, a weak spot he could exploit. And going to see the Chairman alone, without Seung-hyeon, could land him in some awkward or even risky situation. In the end, Seon-woo sent back a vague message of agreement.
As promised, Seung-hyeon showed up the next morning, without sending another word.
Seon-woo had expected him to arrive in the same car he’d used the night before, but it wasn’t that one. The car that pulled up seemed to be Seung-hyeon’s personal vehicle. Seon-woo looked puzzled when he saw it.
“The car you rode in yesterday, Director—I had it sent in for a wash.”
Seung-hyeon answered without being asked, as if anticipating the question. It was supposed to have been a gesture to lessen his burden, having someone else drive him home—but it sounded like Seung-hyeon had ended up going through even more trouble. It didn’t feel very Gwanggong-like to scold someone for going overboard, and it didn’t sit right to complain to someone who’d put in that kind of effort. So Seon-woo just nodded silently and got into Seung-hyeon’s car.
As he naturally opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat, Seung-hyeon blinked, clearly startled.
“What are you doing? Aren’t we leaving?”
“…Ah. Yes.”
A beat late—completely unlike the usual Seung-hyeon. Seon-woo couldn’t even guess why he was so flustered and glanced over curiously at him.
Ah… is it because I got into his car?
The thought suddenly clicked. Maybe he should’ve had Seung-hyeon leave his car in the lot and then switched to one of his own instead. Knowing how Gwanggong types were, even just riding in Seung-hyeon’s car would’ve rubbed them the wrong way.
Whatever… it’s not like my score dropped or anything.
But yes—it had affected his score. If the drop in his Gwanggong Score impacted his overall condition, that would be a problem. But if it was just the score alone, it didn’t really matter. Still, the fact that he was starting to filter all of his actions through the lens of whether they affected the Gwanggong Score or not gave him pause. For a moment, he wondered if this was okay. But only for a moment.
Seon-woo chose not to say anything to Seung-hyeon.
And the same went for Seung-hyeon. After saying something so loaded the day before, the fact that he didn’t say a single word today—that was one of the more curious things about him.
“I think things could go pretty well between us.”
Wasn’t that what he’d said? If Seung-hyeon’s goal had been to make him constantly replay those words and agonize over their meaning, then he was definitely a master strategist.
With both men remaining silent, they arrived at the Chairman’s home. A grand, traditional hanok greeted them—one of those grandiose Korean-style houses, with sweeping tiled roofs and wooden beams. The kind of place the original Gwak Seon-woo would’ve had no reason to visit. Sure, if he went to a folk village, he might see something similar—but not like this.
After handing the car off to a staff member for parking, the two crossed the spacious courtyard together. There was an artfully designed pond in the middle of the yard, and even the placement of the stones showed a deliberate artistic sensibility. Carefully cultivated trees and flowers were dotted throughout the space.
It all felt like too much. Overwhelming. But Seon-woo had to make a conscious effort not to let that show on his face. In contrast, Seung-hyeon walked into the hanok without a hint of discomfort.
Normally, the person who should’ve looked the most composed right now was Seon-woo himself—or at least the original Gwanggong-version of him. The kind of person who wouldn’t have even come here with Seung-hyeon in the first place.
That thought made the current situation feel even more ridiculous.
They were told the Chairman was in his room. Following the directions, they arrived at a sliding door that, even at a glance, looked far more intimidating than any of the others.
Seon-woo instinctively found himself hoping Seung-hyeon would speak first again—probably because of how composed his expression was. But instead, Seung-hyeon looked back at him and gestured silently with his eyes.
Right. Now that he thought about it, it was Seon-woo who should be making the formal greeting and opening the door. He was technically the older cousin, after all, and in the context of this household, it made sense that Seung-hyeon couldn’t take the lead.
The pressure had blinded him to such an obvious fact. Feeling awkward, he cleared his throat.
“We’re here.”
It didn’t feel quite right to say Chairman, and there was absolutely no way he could say Grandfather! And saying This is Gwak Seon-woo felt off too, especially with Seung-hyeon standing right there. But perhaps that greeting wasn’t quite the right choice either, because Seung-hyeon glanced at him with a faintly surprised expression—and there was no response from inside.
“Come in.”
The delayed reply came at last, the Chairman’s voice low and restrained. Seon-woo slid open the door. The Chairman sat there, dignified and composed.
“So, you’ve come, Seon-woo.”
“…….Chairman.”
He hesitated for a beat, searching for the right words before finally speaking. This time, at least, his answer didn’t seem wrong. Then again, with a reply that short—just three syllables—it’d be hard to say what exactly could be wrong with it.
The Chairman gave a silent nod.
Just as Seon-woo was about to step inside, he glanced back. Seung-hyeon stood still, perfectly upright, not moving an inch. For a moment, Seon-woo wondered if he wasn’t planning to come in. Their eyes met briefly, and Seung-hyeon gave the faintest, barely noticeable smile.
“You wait outside for a bit.”
The Chairman’s voice was deliberately stern. Seon-woo flinched slightly, but Seung-hyeon looked as though he’d been expecting those very words. He bowed his head obediently and stepped back.
The door closed behind him. Seon-woo stood there awkwardly before finally forcing his mouth to open.
“Happy… birthday.”
The tightly sealed lips of the Chairman curled slightly. The subtle shift in his expression at just that one line—despite his cold demeanor—hinted that the old man did, in his own way, care about his grandson. But perhaps for that very reason, Seon-woo felt even more nervous about what might come out of his mouth next.
There was a chance that Seung-hyeon had said something about his current condition. He’d insisted he wouldn’t, and Seon-woo didn’t take him for the kind of man to break a promise… but still. You never knew. After all, Seung-hyeon himself had admitted that the Chairman had placed him there to keep an eye on Seon-woo.
But all that anxiety proved pointless. The Chairman looked utterly unbothered. He motioned for Seon-woo to sit and started up a conversation about the most trivial things—how the weather had been lately, how his body ached more with age, small talk and idle chatter with no real weight to it.
If Seung-hyeon had so much as hinted at something like amnesia, there was no way the Chairman would be reacting like this. Even if he was a slippery old fox, his affection for his grandson was plain to see. And if he had known about something as serious as memory loss, there’s no way he’d just test the waters like this with a poker face.
No—it was clear now. There’d been no mention of amnesia. No allusion to illness or injury. Seon-woo felt almost guilty for having been so tense and suspicious.
It seemed like the whole meeting might pass quietly after all—but the Chairman wasn’t so easy to predict. After rambling on with unimportant topics, he finally said something worth tensing over.
“So what’s the occasion? You came with that Seung-hyeon boy today.”
Seon-woo hadn’t expected the Chairman to bring that up himself. If he’d truly sent Seung-hyeon to observe him, he figured the topic would’ve been left unspoken. That assumption had left him unprepared.
He was caught off guard—but only briefly. Seon-woo quickly read the intent behind the question. The Chairman clearly thought the rift between the two was significant enough to merit comment. That was the only reason to bring it up now.
“…Well, I’m grown now. I can’t keep acting like a child forever, can I?”
It was a carefully chosen response. The Chairman raised one eyebrow. Whether he was surprised, displeased, or impressed—it was impossible to tell. Seon-woo continued, his tone composed.
“And more than anything… it’s your birthday.”
The Chairman’s expression grew even more unreadable. Still, Seon-woo calmly finished what he was saying.
“It didn’t seem right to come here on such a meaningful day and only show you hostility. So we decided to come together.”
Finally, a visible change. Something in the Chairman’s face softened. He looked, if anything, moved by the explanation. It might not have been a very Gwanggong-esque excuse—but as far as dodging a tricky moment went, it was a solid success.
Whether the system deemed the explanation acceptable, or perhaps it simply hoped for Seon-woo to maintain a good relationship with the Chairman—whatever the reason, it didn’t flag anything.
The Chairman let out a sigh and absentmindedly stroked the area around his beard for a long moment before finally speaking.
“You take after your father in every way, Seon-woo. Not just your looks, but the way you think, the way you speak—just like him.”
The remark came out of nowhere. Seon-woo almost let his face show confusion, but he managed to keep it in check and lowered his head instead. This was clearly something even he didn’t know about himself. He had never even seen the face of the man they called his father.
So now, to hear about him for the first time—Seon-woo listened intently.
