The chairman gazed toward the doorway with a complicated expression.
Since no follow-up words came immediately, Seon-woo remained silent and waited.
“At first, I thought I’d done a damn good job raising my child. Your father, among all my kids, was especially shrewd and never caused any petty trouble.”
Even though the chairman was clearly referring to his father, the words felt oddly distant, like hearing someone talk about a stranger. Technically, they were someone else’s memories—Seon-woo was only inhabiting Gwanggong’s body. He wasn’t Gwanggong himself. So, in a way, they were someone else’s story.
“But then I saw his face at his brother’s funeral. Not a single tear. If anything, he looked… relieved. That’s when I realized—I’d really messed up raising this one. And I mean really messed up.”
From the sound of it, Gwanggong’s father might’ve been even more terrifying than Gwanggong himself. Seon-woo had no idea why the chairman suddenly brought all this up, but from an information-gathering perspective, it was a fortunate turn.
He didn’t respond, but the chairman continued, more like venting than expecting an answer.
“Maybe it’s my fault that he grew up into such a cold-blooded bastard. Sure, it’s great when you’re running a business, I’ll give him that. But that guy… he just doesn’t feel human. You hear me? Not human.”
“I was always worried that you, Seon-woo, were becoming more and more like him—the man who even his own son couldn’t recognize as a father.”
Was this whole story just a setup to criticize Gwak Seon-woo’s personality? The thought crept in naturally after hearing this far. But the chairman paused, steadied his breathing, and then spoke again, now with a faint smile softening his face.
“But now that I look closer, maybe I didn’t need to worry. That old version of you… it’s still there. Just as you were back then.”
He had only said a throwaway line earlier as a flimsy excuse, yet here he was receiving this kind of praise.
Since it wasn’t something he’d intended or aimed for, the compliment felt oddly embarrassing. Saying something like, “Oh, no, not at all,” would only make things worse, so he figured staying quiet was the better choice.
Fortunately, the chairman seemed more than satisfied with that alone.
After a long conversation, Seon-woo was finally told he could leave the room.
He stepped out and closed the door behind him. Looking around, he saw Seung-hyeon standing a short distance away, like a figure in a painting, waiting silently. Seon-woo hesitated, unsure whether he should greet him first, when Seung-hyeon lowered his voice and asked,
“You okay?”
Seon-woo just stared at Seung-hyeon’s face without replying. Just then, from inside the room, the chairman’s voice called for Seung-hyeon to come in.
Even after hearing that, Seung-hyeon lingered, as if still waiting for Seon-woo to say something. When nothing came, he let out an awkward smile and reached for the doorknob.
That’s when Seon-woo finally spoke.
“Looks like he didn’t tell you.”
Seung-hyeon turned back, his expression suggesting he was trying to make sense of the remark, then let out a faint laugh as if slightly exasperated.
“He said you would.”
***
After Seung-hyeon went into the chairman’s office, Seon-woo stood there blankly for a moment before stepping out into the courtyard.
He took a better look at the traditional Korean house—so spacious and beautiful, he’d never had a reason to really explore it before. He wanted to show respect—yet at the same time, he didn’t have it in him to wait endlessly outside the door like Seung-hyeon had.
The courtyard was quiet, and Seon-woo was able to spend a good amount of time lost in calm thought. It wasn’t until quite a while had passed that he finally encountered someone.
The faint rustling of footsteps made him turn around. Standing there was a woman wearing a startled expression, as though she hadn’t expected anyone to be there.
At first glance, she looked quite young—but when he examined her more closely, subtle traces of age were evident on her face. As Seon-woo studied the long, straight hair flowing down her shoulders, he immediately recognized who she was, even without asking.
It was the resemblance to Gwak Seung-hyeon.
Her chocolate-brown hair was almost identical in shade, and more than anything, the gentle curve of her eyes and the kindness in her expression were nearly a mirror image of his. This had to be Seung-hyeon’s mother.
The moment their eyes met, Seon-woo could instantly sense just how much the original Gwanggong detested this woman. The instant she came into view, a surge of discomfort bubbled up from deep in his gut.
Clearly, the disgust was coming from within him—but it felt foreign, like an emotion artificially implanted into his body. It was a visceral reminder that he was living inside someone else’s flesh.
He had felt something similar when he first met Seo Eun-jae. That time, it had been a synthetic rush of attraction. This time, it was a synthetic hostility.
The emotions didn’t belong to Seon-woo himself—they were the residue of Gwanggong Gwak Seon-woo, the body’s original owner, likely amplified by the intervention of the system.
< [!] Would you like to view character information? >
< Yes / No >
Without hesitation, he pressed Yes. A concise information window popped up.
「Jo Jeong-hee」
Gwak Seung-hyeon’s mother.
“Ah…”
As if she’d finally come to her senses, Jo Jeong-hee let out a short sigh. Her lips parted like she meant to say more, but in the end, no words came out.
Seon-woo didn’t speak either. With this strange, unfamiliar disgust churning in his chest, what was there to say?
A hellish silence settled between them. Seon-woo debated whether to just turn around and walk away. It might come across as him storming off after seeing something—or someone—he didn’t want to see, but even that seemed better than continuing to endure the suffocating atmosphere between them.
Jo Jeong-hee, too, wore an uneasy expression as she glanced around nervously.
Is she watching my reaction because she wants to leave, too?
That’s what Seon-woo thought. But her expression seemed more like that of someone with something to say. After a long pause, she finally opened her mouth.
“How have you been lately?”
The question was far more ordinary than he’d expected. He’d had no idea what kind of words might come out of her mouth—but something so utterly mundane hadn’t even crossed his mind. So, Seon-woo gave the most ordinary answer he could think of.
“Would there really be anything different?”
“…Yeah… I suppose not.”
Is that it?
Seon-woo turned to look at her with a baffled expression. But Jo Jeong-hee, avoiding his gaze in a vague, uncertain way, didn’t notice the look on his face. After another stretch of silence, she opened her mouth again, like someone mustering every bit of courage they had.
“Maybe… sometime, we could have a meal together—”
Before she could finish her sentence, footsteps echoed from behind Seon-woo. They were unusually loud, the crunch of shoes against the ground sounding almost aggressive. Even if someone had been fully absorbed in conversation, it would’ve been impossible to miss.
Both Seon-woo and Jo Jeong-hee turned toward the noise at the same time. Standing there was Gwak Sang-cheol. It was the first time Seon-woo had seen him since the day they’d shared a meal.
Gwak Seon-woo’s uncle—crooked chaebol and corrupt tycoon.
It was a deeply awkward encounter, made even more uncomfortable by the fact that he hadn’t mentally prepared to face this man. The time he’d run into Sang-cheol’s wife and Gwak Su-won at the art museum had already been unbearable—but this was worse.
He could hardly recall ever exchanging a proper conversation with this man, yet among all the people Seon-woo had met since entering this game world, he was certain Gwak Sang-cheol was the one he hated most. To run into the person he least wanted to see in such a stiff, delicate moment—how ironic.
Seon-woo had seen firsthand how Sang-cheol looked at Gwak Seung-hyeon with such obvious contempt. Just from that, he could easily predict how this man would behave upon seeing Jo Jeong-hee.
And sure enough, the moment Sang-cheol spotted the two of them together, he let out a mocking remark in a condescending tone.
“Well, well. What kind of pairing is this supposed to be?”
Seon-woo clicked his tongue and turned his head away in the opposite direction.
He hadn’t done it with any intention of playing up the “Gwanggong” persona, but apparently the system approved of his reaction nonetheless.
< Gwanggong Score has increased by 1. >
Sang-cheol seemed to take offense at Seon-woo turning away. His face reddened instantly, his expression twisting with irritation. But just as quickly, he pulled on a slick smile, forcing his face back into that greasy, easygoing facade.
At the very least, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would lose all sense and start yelling in the middle of this setting.
Swaggering forward with an insolent gait, Sang-cheol came to stand in front of the two of them, casting his gaze from one face to the other.
“Last time, you were clinging to her son. Now it’s her, huh… Ha.”
He twisted his lips into a crooked grin that reeked of malice. Seon-woo scoffed quietly through his nose. He had no desire to get between the two of them—but if the first thing Sang-cheol did was drag him into the middle of it, then there was no hope of a smooth exit.
“You forget what your older brother went through?”
It was obvious he was trying to pick a fight with both Jo Jeong-hee and Seon-woo at once, but who exactly he meant by “older brother” wasn’t clear.
Was he referring to Gwak Seon-woo’s father? But the moment he saw Jo Jeong-hee’s face go pale, he realized he’d misread the situation. He was talking about Jo Jeong-hee’s husband—Gwak Seung-hyeon’s father.
Sensing that even worse insults were coming, Seon-woo cut him off before he could continue.
“That’s enough, Uncle. What brings you here today? Isn’t it the chairman’s birthday you came to celebrate?”
Sang-cheol’s brows furrowed as if preparing to snap back, but Seon-woo didn’t give him the chance.
“Starting petty drama on a day like this—oh, I’m sure the chairman would just love that.”
“What? You little bastard—”
Sang-cheol flared up instantly, his voice rising in anger. Startled by his reaction, Jo Jeong-hee cautiously stepped in.
“P-please… that’s enough, Seon-woo.”
Her tone was so gentle, genuinely kind. Rationally, there was no reason to feel any aversion to her. But the moment he heard her voice, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Whether it was the system’s doing or a remnant of Gwanggong’s will, he couldn’t tell—but the revulsion was unmistakable.
Jo Jeong-hee, perhaps sensing that Seon-woo wasn’t planning to back down, instinctively reached out toward him. The moment her hand brushed against the hem of his clothes, a set of choices appeared before his eyes.
▶ [Slap her hand away] What do you think you’re doing?
▶ [Shove her roughly] Don’t touch me.
▶ [Brush her hand off harshly] Keep your filthy hands to yourself.
None of them were things he could accept doing. But he had to choose. Waiting too long would trigger a random action—possibly something even worse. Reluctantly, Seon-woo selected the first option.
He slapped Jo Jeong-hee’s hand away and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, Jo Jeong-hee stumbled back a few steps. Wobbling slightly, she murmured, “I… It was an accident…”
And then—Another person appeared, footsteps much quieter than Gwak Sang-cheol’s earlier entrance. If only it had been a stranger. But the moment Seon-woo saw the face, his brow furrowed in dismay.
“What exactly… is going on here?”
It was Gwak Seung-hyeon. His gaze was fixed squarely on Jo Jeong-hee’s hand—the very one Seon-woo had just slapped away. Seon-woo instinctively bit the inside of his lip.
This time… things were really going to get complicated.
