Seung-hyeon gripped Seon-woo’s wrist and didn’t let go for quite some time. The force was strong enough that it wouldn’t have been surprising if it left a mark.
Hearing someone call out, “Director,” Seon-woo, who had been lost in a daze, didn’t immediately pull his hand away. As expected, a notification popped up.
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 1.>
There wasn’t even an explanation this time. With a sigh, Seon-woo yanked his wrist free from Seung-hyeon’s grasp. Despite how tightly he’d been holding it, the resistance was surprisingly weak. His hand slipped away without a fight.
Even after that, Seung-hyeon didn’t move. Finding it odd, Seon-woo naturally turned his head to look.
“Why the hell are you grabbing people out of nowhere? If you have something to say, use your words.”
He shot the question at him, eyes scanning his demeanor. Once again, Seung-hyeon bowed his head in silence.
“I’m sorry.”
Though obedient in tone, there was nothing pitiful or groveling about it. With his head bowed, his eyes were hidden, but Seon-woo had the sense that they were anything but meek.
“You looked like you might fall… I was worried,” Seung-hyeon added in a quiet voice.
Turning back to look where he’d been walking, Seon-woo did notice a tree root jutting out at his feet—something that could easily trip someone up.
But instead of convincing him, it just left a sour taste in his mouth. Without thinking, Seon-woo spoke.
“So that’s…”
So that’s why you grabbed me?
But the words never made it past his lips. Because whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t that. Pressing for the truth would only lead to a pointless argument.
Just then, Eun-jae’s voice called out.
“What are you doing?”
He must have turned back in concern while being helped up the trail. Staring at Seung-hyeon with an annoyed look, Eun-jae quickly changed his tone to something much gentler.
“Director, come on up. Want me to give you a hand?”
A small, baffled laugh escaped Seon-woo. He turned his back on Seung-hyeon completely and picked up his pace, striding up the path.
“Seo Eun-jae-ssi, maybe worry about your own condition first.”
He could feel Seung-hyeon’s piercing stare burning into his back. The man didn’t move for a long while, as if rooted in place, before finally trailing after them.
***
For about two more days after that, Seung-hyeon continued to be absent from work. The reason was the same—he was still sick.
Hearing the update left Seon-woo feeling unsettled, a dull pressure building in his chest.
How sick could he possibly be to skip work for several days in a row? When they’d seen him in the mountains that day, he hadn’t seemed that bad. Sure, his complexion had been off, but he was still walking around on his own two feet.
Maybe the rain that day had really done a number on him and made things worse. He ran through a list of possibilities, but one thing never quite made sense: the idea that Seung-hyeon might be faking it.
Even if he did seem like a bit of a slacker, the Gwak Seung-hyeon Seon-woo had seen with his own eyes wasn’t the type to fake an illness.
If by chance he did reach out, should I ask how he’s feeling?
That thought had crossed Seon-woo’s mind more than once—but in the end, it turned out to be a pointless worry. Seung-hyeon never contacted him until the day he returned to work.
Seon-woo had more or less expected that. It was only because of the look in his eyes that day in the mountains that he kept wondering what if.
What if he did reach out?
What if he came to see me again?
That gaze had been unsettling enough to leave him anxious.
But regardless of whatever might’ve been in Seung-hyeon’s eyes, the distance between Seon-woo and the two men—Seung-hyeon and Eun-jae—had clearly started to shift.
He hadn’t exchanged a single message with Seung-hyeon since that day. In contrast, his relationship with Eun-jae had grown noticeably closer.
In truth, it had been inevitable. The system already had a habit of throwing Eun-jae at Seon-woo anytime something happened, and Eun-jae had never once hesitated to get involved. He was always bold, always direct.
The only reason Seon-woo had managed to keep any distance at all was thanks to his own efforts.
But lately, even he had started to change.
Now, when the system pushed Eun-jae at him, he let it. When Eun-jae approached, he didn’t stop him.
Even when Eun-jae casually reached for his hand or initiated other forms of contact, Seon-woo no longer pulled away.
They’d already had a few meals together. They even exchanged messages late into the night.
Still, even as they grew closer in action, there was nothing particularly warm or intimate about it for Seon-woo. It all just felt… transactional, like part of the job.
And yet, separate from his own feelings, the fact remained—there was nothing standing between them now.
At least, nothing except Seon-woo’s own will.
The only real obstacle had been Gwak Seung-hyeon, but with him completely out of the picture, it made perfect sense that things with Eun-jae had progressed smoothly.
Even when Seung-hyeon lingered in his mind, there was nothing Seon-woo could do about it. It wasn’t like he could go looking for him.
Whenever he wondered what Seung-hyeon was doing or whether he was deliberately avoiding him, Seon-woo would steel himself again.
He would stay away from Gwak Seung-hyeon and follow the original plot. He’d clear this game smoothly, without any more Gwanggong Score deductions dragging him down.
That was his resolve.
But ironically—almost mockingly—the system decided to throw Seung-hyeon right back into his path the moment he made up his mind.
[Director, would you like to go home together after work today?]
That afternoon, a text arrived from Eun-jae.
With a sense of obligation, Seon-woo typed back a short response: Sure.
The moment he sent it, a new prompt appeared.
▶(Go find Seo Eun-jae.)
▶(Call Seo Eun-jae.)
At this hour, calling him out of nowhere would only be weirder.
Almost reflexively, Seon-woo thought it would be better to go in person. The idea felt strangely natural—so much so that he stood up without hesitation and headed toward Eun-jae’s department.
Which, in effect, meant he was heading toward Seung-hyeon’s department as well. That fact didn’t occur to him until he was already halfway down the corridor.
It wasn’t like he planned to turn back—there was no avoiding it now—but the timing struck him as odd. If anything, the system should want to keep Seon-woo and Seung-hyeon apart.
So why was it pushing him in the exact direction of where Seung-hyeon was likely to be?
But Seon-woo forcefully pushed the thought aside.
Yes, being forced to follow the choices laid out by the system was suffocating—but deviating from them simply wasn’t possible. That was how this world had been designed from the start.
Rounding a corner, Seon-woo reached his target quicker than expected. He spotted two shadows tucked away in a secluded hallway—Gwak Seung-hyeon and Seo Eun-jae.
Seung-hyeon had Eun-jae pinned against the wall, saying something in a low voice, while Eun-jae responded with a faint smile.
Seung-hyeon’s face was turned away, so his expression couldn’t be seen, but the air between them was unmistakably… secretive.
Suddenly, a wave of anger surged through him.
Part of it was the emotion the system had injected. But part of it was entirely his own.
Of course, what the system found infuriating and what Seon-woo found unacceptable were probably two different things.
The system was no doubt outraged at seeing Eun-jae smiling with another man. But that didn’t bother Seon-woo all that much. Still, for once, he and the system were aligned.
Letting himself get swept up in the emotion, Seon-woo started walking toward them.
As he got closer, the system presented his options:
▶ (Grab Seo Eun-jae’s hand and pull him away from Gwak Seung-hyeon.) “What the hell are you doing with that guy?”
▶ (Punch Gwak Seung-hyeon, grab him by the collar.) “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He didn’t even need to consider it.
Gwak Seon-woo’s only thought was: Please, let me stop beating the crap out of Gwak Seung-hyeon for once.
Without hesitation, he chose the first option and yanked Eun-jae’s hand away.
“What the hell were you doing with that guy?”
He’d even delivered the embarrassing line. All that was left was to take Eun-jae and leave. Turning his back on Seung-hyeon as if it were the most natural thing in the world—
He heard Seung-hyeon’s voice behind him.
He’d figured the man might say something. But not that, and not like that.
“You’re really just going to walk away like that again?”
At most, Seon-woo had expected him to get flustered or angry—maybe, in a fleeting moment, a sorrowful tone. But Seung-hyeon’s voice carried a sharp edge. A quiet reprimand. And somehow, he still sounded calm. Completely opposite of Seon-woo, who had no composure left at all.
As Seon-woo came to a halt, Seung-hyeon kept speaking.
“I really don’t understand you, Director.”
Seon-woo opened his mouth, feeling like he ought to say something—but nothing came out. Seung-hyeon continued in that cool, measured voice.
“If you like him, just say so. If you don’t, then don’t. Why do you keep acting like it’s neither one nor the other?”
A sharp sting pierced through Seon-woo’s chest.
Was he talking about Eun-jae?
If this had been the original story, and Seung-hyeon were just the typical ‘second male lead,’ there’d be no room for doubt. But now, he had no idea what the man was really thinking.
“If it were me, I wouldn’t treat him like that…”
Seon-woo remained unsure, but the system seemed to interpret the line in just one way:
If it were me, I’d treat Seo Eun-jae better.
▶ (Turn away in anger.)
▶ (Scoff and turn away.)
Seon-woo snapped his head around and glared at Seung-hyeon.
He’d meant to scoff, but no laughter came, so his expression remained stiff and cold. Anyone else would’ve shriveled up under the intensity of the moment, but Seung-hyeon simply smiled, calm as ever.
“What are you planning to say this time?”
“You…”
“Are you going to tell me again that it’s not okay because it’s me?”
That faint smile, paired with the line, hit Seon-woo like a blow to the head.
This wasn’t something he remembered saying. It had to be something the Gwanggong had said to Seung-hyeon. And though Seung-hyeon was still smiling, it was the coldest expression Seon-woo had ever seen on him.
His stomach churned. He couldn’t even tell what emotion was causing it. He tightened his grip—so much so that he forgot the hand he was holding belonged to Eun-jae. He looked up, turned his head away again, ran a hand through his hair, and let out a long sigh.
Then he turned his back on Seung-hyeon without another word, still holding Eun-jae’s hand tightly as he walked away.
Mis bebés 😭😭