Seon-woo looked between Jo Jeong-hee’s hand, which he had just slapped away, and Seung-hyeon, unsure of whether he should say something to deny any misunderstanding. After some deliberation, he decided it was better to keep his mouth shut. It had been Gwak Sang-cheol’s side that intended to insult Jo Jeong-hee, but still, it didn’t feel like a situation where Seon-woo could claim to be completely innocent. After all, nothing could undo what he’d just done.
No matter how good-natured someone might be, the one thing they can’t tolerate is when their parents are insulted. Until now, Gwak Seung-hyeon had always brushed off whatever Seon-woo did, never getting too upset and letting things slide. But this time, the situation was different. Seung-hyeon didn’t know the full context, and Seon-woo couldn’t blame him if he ended up misunderstanding everything. If it came to the point where Seung-hyeon never spoke to him like before, Seon-woo would have no choice but to accept it.
After observing the situation for a moment, Seung-hyeon approached with a hardened expression. Once he was close enough, he came to a stop, placing himself directly in front of Jo Jeong-hee, as if shielding her from Gwak Seon-woo and Gwak Sang-cheol. His demeanor suggested he was trying to hide his mother from them entirely. Without acknowledging the two men, he spoke to his mother.
“Are you okay?”
“It wasn’t like that, Seung-hyeon.”
Rather than answering his question, Jo Jeong-hee immediately began explaining on Seon-woo’s behalf. That only made Seon-woo feel even more guilty. Seung-hyeon calmly interrupted whatever more she was about to say and asked again,
“I understand. But are you okay? What brought you here? You didn’t even tell me…”
Though his words might have sounded accusatory on the surface, his voice was so gentle that not even a trace of reproach came through. That alone made it clear how deeply he cared for his mother. Jo Jeong-hee, who had started to open her mouth again, gave a slight pause before answering.
“The Chairman called me personally. I didn’t know when you’d be here, and I didn’t want to bother you for no reason, so I came alone. So don’t worry about it. And really, it wasn’t like that.”
“Did you get to see the Chairman?”
Though Jo Jeong-hee tried to continue explaining, Seung-hyeon didn’t seem interested in that part. He acted as if he hadn’t heard it at all and continued the conversation with a different focus.
“No. It wasn’t to see him face to face, so he told me not to come inside…”
Seung-hyeon fell silent for a moment at those words. From Seon-woo’s position behind him, he couldn’t see his face, so it was impossible to tell whether he was angry or not.
“…I see. Got it.”
“Seung-hyeon.”
“Let’s go inside now. I’ll walk you back.”
After a moment of silence, Seung-hyeon finally spoke. His tone had softened slightly, hinting that he’d taken a moment to calm himself. Jo Jeong-hee, who appeared even more composed than him, gently shook her head.
“I can go back on my own. You stay here—”
“Mom. Let’s go.”
But her refusal didn’t last long. The moment Seung-hyeon called out firmly, Jo Jeong-hee hesitated briefly, then turned to follow him. Even as she walked away, she kept glancing back, as if she still wanted to explain things on Seon-woo’s behalf.
Ever since Seung-hyeon arrived and assessed the situation, he hadn’t once turned to look at Seon-woo. Though it was expected, and Seon-woo understood that it made sense, actually experiencing it firsthand hit him harder than he’d anticipated. And no wonder—it was the first time Seung-hyeon had ever outright turned his back on him.
But Seon-woo didn’t say a word. He simply stood there, lips tightly sealed, watching as the two of them walked farther and farther away.
Gwak Sang-cheol was just as silent—but for a different reason. While Seon-woo kept quiet out of guilt and regret, Sang-cheol wore an amused look, like he’d just watched an entertaining scene unfold. Once Seung-hyeon left with Jeong-hee, Sang-cheol let out a scoffing chuckle loud enough to be heard.
“As if she didn’t know what kind of shitshow she’d be walking into. But she came anyway. Guess she was hoping to scrounge up something.”
The sarcasm in his voice was blatant. It took no effort to figure out that his words were aimed squarely at Jo Jeong-hee.
Seon-woo, who had been staring silently at Seung-hyeon’s retreating figure, turned his head and fixed his gaze on Gwak Sang-cheol. His eyes were cold—icy.
His stomach churned. He knew it had been an awkward situation to explain. Still, maybe he should’ve tried. Was this how things would end? With the two of them not even speaking to each other anymore? One thought spiraled into another, wrapping tighter and tighter around his chest. And the more he thought, the more unbearable it became to sit next to Sang-cheol and listen to him sneer.
Seon-woo responded in a frosty voice.
“Then why did you, Uncle, bother getting involved, knowing exactly what kind of scene you’d be walking into? What were you hoping to scrounge up?”
That was more than enough to provoke Gwak Sang-cheol. As expected, his face twisted in anger as he snapped, “What did you just say?”
He could’ve kept arguing, grabbing onto that thread and spiraling into a shouting match, but Seon-woo just stared him down for a moment, then turned away without another word.
Behind him, Sang-cheol let out a snort of disbelief. Seon-woo didn’t bother reacting. He made his way to the Chairman.
When the Chairman heard that Seung-hyeon had already gone, his displeasure was obvious. It was as if he considered the fact that he’d summoned Seung-hyeon’s mother—then refused to even meet her face-to-face—and Seung-hyeon taking her away again as completely unrelated matters.
Doing his best to stay within the bounds of what a Gwanggong should do, Seon-woo gave the most favorable interpretation of the situation he could manage, then left and returned home. Seung-hyeon had already taken off, leaving behind only the car they’d arrived in together. Seon-woo had originally planned to drive himself, but somehow the secretary showed up—as if he’d known—and ended up chauffeuring him home.
Once back, Seon-woo collapsed onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess in his head, but the plain, unadorned surface didn’t offer much clarity.
What must Gwak Seung-hyeon think of him now? Did he really believe that even after losing his memory, Seon-woo was the kind of scumbag who would abuse a powerless woman like his mother?
Even if he did think that… it wasn’t entirely wrong. And that stung all the more.
“You thought maybe things between us didn’t have to be so bad?”
Seon-woo scoffed to himself.
Still dazed, he reached for his phone. His home screen was as silent and empty as ever, with no missed calls or messages. He tapped open a search portal. After hesitating for a moment, he typed in the keywords:
game walkthroughs.
<Gwanggong does not search for game walkthroughs on portal sites. Gwanggong Score -1.>
A system message popped up notifying him of the one-point penalty, but he wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t like when it prevented him from texting Gwak Seung-hyeon—it hadn’t forcibly blocked the search altogether.
The inconsistency of the system did puzzle him, but Seon-woo was glad for it all the same. So he ignored the notification altogether. Just because he was a Gwanggong didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to run a search. What kind of logic was that? If anything, that would make him not a Gwanggong, but simply someone hopelessly out of touch with the modern world.
His search pulled up a slew of results—questions on knowledge forums asking for walkthroughs of the game he played, plus countless guide videos. Seon-woo skimmed through a post titled “How do you beat Dolryeodolryeodolryeojjang?” before changing his search term.
Dating simulation.
<Gwanggong does not search for dating simulations on portal sites. Gwanggong Score -1.>
He ignored the alert this time too. The results were flooded with posts recommending various dating sims, as well as questions from players trying to figure them out. One title caught his eye: Love-Love Machine from Hell. Someone had posted a question asking for a guide on it, so Seon-woo clicked in to read.
Hello. I’ve been trying for days to clear Kim Daeri’s route in HellLove, but I just can’t get his affection up T_T To be honest, he’s not really my type, but I’ve already finished all the other characters’ routes, and apparently you need to complete every route to see the true ending… Anyway, his choices look straightforward, but whenever I pick one, his affection only goes up by tiny increments T_T… Is it even possible to finish his route? T_T (Offering 60 points)
Reply from XX (Chosen Answer):
Thanks to your answer, I finally saw the ending after a few days!!! When I hit that “End Game” button, I don’t even know why, but it felt so bittersweet T_T Anyway, thank you~~!! Kim Daeri’s route is definitely a tricky one. You have to pick choices that feel like “Wait, really? That one?” to raise his affection. Have you seen the break room event in the middle? You have to trigger that to make progress easier. I’ll list the correct options below—just follow them step-by-step.
Seon-woo stared at the post for a long while. What caught his eye the most wasn’t even the question, but the chosen answer.
He mulled over it for a moment, then changed his search again.
Dating simulation no-guide route.
It wasn’t easy finding exactly what he was looking for, but after digging through the portal site for a while, he eventually learned that endings where you finish the game without linking up with any of the love interests were generally called things like “Normal Ending.”
Why do normal endings in dating sims always end in death?
Reply from YY:
Well, that’s what happens when you don’t do the dating in a dating simulation. If you’re not going to play the game the way it’s meant to be played, what’s the point? It’s like working in a healing game or farming in a survival horror. Doesn’t make any sense, right?
It was a disconcerting answer. Was choosing not to date in a dating simulation really such a sin that it warranted a death ending? Seon-woo changed his search terms to things like “dating sim normal ending reviews,” hoping to find something that fit what he was looking for. But it was useless. Every review he came across described the player dying after failing to form a romantic connection.
Is that just how all dating sims are?
He had never played one before in his life, so he couldn’t even tell if the results he was seeing were typical or not.
<Current Gwanggong Score: 53.>
His Gwanggong Score had been chipped away bit by bit and was now dangerously low. Yet despite the sacrifices, it hadn’t been worth it—he’d gained nothing except a lingering sense of unease. Staring blankly at his phone’s lock screen, Seon-woo suddenly opened his contacts on impulse and searched for Seo Eun-jae’s number. He opened the message window and stared at it for a long moment before typing a few words.
[Mr. Seo Eun-jae.]
The moment he hit send, a notification popped up.
<Gwanggong Score +2.>
He had only sent a text, and yet the score had gone up. The arbitrary logic of the system was starting to feel downright laughable. Seon-woo set the phone down without waiting for a reply.
Thanks to your answer, I finally saw the ending after a few days. When I hit that “End Game” button, I don’t even know why, but it felt so bittersweet…
Those words kept looping in his head.
Just then, his phone buzzed again where he’d placed it. Naturally, he assumed it was a reply from Seo Eun-jae. He reached for it without much thought—but instead of a text notification, the screen showed an incoming call.
The caller ID read: Gwak Seung-hyeon.
