Someone’s touch stirred him.
Fingers gently brushed through his hair, smoothed the corners of his eyes, and carefully traced every contour of his face. Perhaps because he was caught between sleep and wakefulness, a wave of irritation washed over him. He shook his head in annoyance, and the hand that had been exploring his face withdrew without resistance.
But now, a lukewarm hand made its way toward his waist.
He’d never thought of himself as being particularly ticklish around his waist, yet the moment that hand softly caressed the area around his pelvis, a strange, tingling sensation flared up—sharp and ticklish in a way he wasn’t used to. Without thinking, Seon-woo let out a low groan and tensed his body. A calming whisper immediately brushed his ear.
“Could you lift your hips just a little more?”
Only then did Seon-woo start to suspect who the voice belonged to. It seemed Seung-hyeon hadn’t gone home yet. A mix of petty annoyance—Why the hell is he still here?—and quiet relief—Good thing he stayed—hit him all at once.
But… what exactly had he and Seung-hyeon done?
The moment that thought crossed his mind, his eyes flew open.
Alarmed, Seon-woo grabbed the person hovering above him by the hair and yanked them back, trying to distance them from his body.
But something was off…
The hair in his grip wasn’t chocolate brown—it was light brown.
Frowning in confusion, he looked at the person’s face.
It wasn’t Gwak Seung-hyeon.
It was Seo Eun-jae.
‘…What?’
Shocked, Seon-woo jolted upright as if spring-loaded. He could’ve sworn his eyes were already open a moment ago, but maybe that had just been a dream within a dream. Now fully awake, he blinked as the black blanket covering his body slipped to the floor.
He looked around in a daze.
It was his own barren room.
And no one else was there.
At some point, he must’ve fallen asleep and even dreamt.
To shake off the lingering images from the dream, Seon-woo raked his hand through his hair.
Thank god. That was the first thought that came to mind.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly he was relieved about, but… it was probably the fact that the thing with Seo Eun-jae had just been a dream. He liked that idea.
Glancing down at himself, he realized he was neatly dressed in his loungewear. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. It had to be Seung-hyeon—he must’ve dressed him before leaving. Somehow, he’d even swapped out the soiled bedsheets for fresh ones.
After piecing things together, Seon-woo focused on the sounds beyond his room.
Maybe Seung-hyeon hadn’t left yet and was still out in the living room.
But he didn’t hear anyone moving around.
Only the occasional mechanical clatter echoed faintly.
Deciding to check the situation for himself, he swung his legs off the bed.
A normal action—something he’d done countless times before.
But the outcome was drastically different this time.
The moment he stood up, pain shot through his lower back, and he collapsed back down, clutching his waist.
The ache was worse than he’d expected.
Then again, given what had happened, it would’ve been strange if he wasn’t sore.
Honestly, it was probably thanks to his naturally sturdy body that this was all he had to deal with.
<Gwanggong does not collapse from back pain. Gwanggong Score -2.>
Just then, the system notification sound chimed.
After staying completely silent no matter what he did following the last shutdown, hearing it again now felt oddly out of place. The problem was—it wasn’t even remotely welcome.
Had it come back on while he was asleep?
Thinking back on what had happened before he dozed off, he was grateful that it hadn’t been activated then. Still, even with that relief, a sigh escaped him.
It hadn’t been off for all that long, but somehow, he’d already gotten used to life without the system again.
Sitting back down on the bed, Seon-woo let out a deep, weary breath.
The memories from before he fell asleep—those he had tried to push to the farthest edges of his mind—flashed through his head like a video on fast-forward.
Never in his life had he imagined a day would come where he’d have sex with a man.
Even more unthinkable was that the man would be his cousin, who he’d met only because he’d possessed the body of the game’s protagonist.
No matter how unrelated they were by blood, now that he thought about it, it was something to feel guilty about.
And yet, despite that, he had accepted Seung-hyeon without hesitation, almost disturbingly so.
Maybe it was the realization that if not now, a chance like that might never come again—that feeling had dragged him into the heat of the moment.
And now that things had come to this point, he had no choice but to face it.
What exactly did he feel toward Gwak Seung-hyeon and Seo Eun-jae?
What did he want from them?
After everything—after they’d had sex—it felt hollow and dishonest to claim the tangled emotions he had for Seung-hyeon were just some kind of friendly affection.
He couldn’t keep pretending his only goal was to “capture” them.
Looking back, there had never been any guarantee that successfully conquering Seo Eun-jae and reaching his ending route would actually get him out of this game world.
And all the baggage that came with targeting Eun-jae—that was beyond anything Seon-woo could handle.
Just like yesterday, when he was forced into a situation where he had to assault him.
So then, Seo Eun-jae… What was the right way to treat him moving forward?
The only thing that came to mind was to sincerely apologize for everything he had handled so vaguely and passively until now—and to keep as much distance between them as possible.
But as long as the system was operational, there was no telling what new variables might emerge.
His headache grew worse with every thought.
For now, his priority was to figure out how to deal with Eun-jae… and to start investigating what had caused the system to shut down in the first place.
Seon-woo pressed his hand into his aching back and cautiously got to his feet.
Thankfully, the stabbing pain from earlier didn’t return—just a dull throb in his lower back.
When he opened the bedroom door, the mechanical noise he’d heard earlier grew clearer—it was just the washing machine running.
He must’ve tossed in the soiled sheets after changing the bed.
Just to be sure, Seon-woo glanced around the living room. But Seung-hyeon was nowhere to be found, and his shoes were gone from the entrance.
Relief and a hint of disappointment washed over him at the same time.
Still, it was probably better this way than waking up and seeing Seung-hyeon’s face first thing—only to have his Gwanggong Score take a nosedive.
Thinking that, Seon-woo made his way toward the study.
Whether or not he’d be able to focus on reading was unclear, but a Gwanggong with no other hobbies had little choice. If he wanted to cool his head, cracking open a book was the best option.
Without much thought, Seon-woo slumped down into the chair.
It was reckless, given the state of his back—but surprisingly, there was no need for an oh shit moment.
The seat welcomed him with unexpected softness.
It wasn’t supposed to be this cushioned, was it?
Just as Seon-woo looked down at the chair in confusion, the system alert popped up—almost at the exact same moment.
<Gwanggong does not sit on a donut cushion. Gwanggong Score -2.>
Donut cushion…?
That was something that had no business being in a Gwanggong’s house in the first place.
Yet, when he looked down, there it was—right under his ass.
A donut cushion.
A soft, pastel pink one at that, complete with a cute little pig face printed on it.
Stunned, Seon-woo stood up, and as he did, a small note slipped out from between the cushion’s folds.
He picked it up and read the neat handwriting scrawled across it.
[I thought your back might hurt, so I brought this. Text me when you’re up.]
Seon-woo stared at the note for a long time, caught between disbelief and amusement.
Despite the system dinging him with a score drop, he didn’t actually feel all that bad.
If anything, it leaned toward… nice.
Only after a moment did Seon-woo realize he was smiling.
***
Gwak Seung-hyeon stepped out of the car and suddenly halted mid-step.
Someone was standing near the entrance to the parking lot, clearly waiting for him. They were too far away for him to make out the face, but he had no trouble figuring out who it was.
With a quiet chuckle, Seung-hyeon stood still, amused, and waited for the person to approach.
“Assistant Manager Seo. What brings you here?”
As the distance closed, Eun-jae’s face came into view. His expression was stiff.
Thanks to his naturally soft features, even a hardened face didn’t come across as threatening—but it certainly didn’t look kind and gentle like usual, either.
Seung-hyeon didn’t tilt his head in his usual smug way. Instead, he stood straight and met Eun-jae’s gaze. A faint smile still lingered on his lips.
Eun-jae walked right up to him but said nothing. So Seung-hyeon was the one to speak again.
“I don’t remember ever telling you where I live…”
“You don’t have to go digging for something like this. It’s easy enough to find.”
Eun-jae’s curt tone earned a casual reply from Seung-hyeon.
“Fair point.”
He nodded lazily, almost dismissively, and that motion made Eun-jae snap his head up. Tight-lipped and eyes sharp, his expression made his feelings obvious.
Seung-hyeon shrugged.
“Want me to guess? Feels pointless asking what you’re here for.”
Still silent, Eun-jae simply stared at him, so Seung-hyeon offered another grin.
“You came here with nothing in particular to say. Just pissed off, right?”
“Do you know me, Team Leader?”
The sharp retort carried more bite than before. But instead of reacting seriously, Seung-hyeon merely gave a small shake of his head.
“If I don’t, then that’s on me. I’ll apologize.”
Yet Eun-jae didn’t argue back. He just bit his lower lip, as if to confirm that Seung-hyeon had hit the nail on the head.
Seung-hyeon opened his mouth to say something more—but froze mid-motion when a vibration buzzed from inside his pocket.
With a faint smile—one with a different tone from before—he answered the call.
The call volume was low, so only Seung-hyeon could hear the voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
– Hello.
“What’s the matter, Director?”
– Who told me to call you when I woke up?
His tone was nonchalant, but it still made Seung-hyeon smile without meaning to. He hadn’t really expected him to actually follow that note’s instruction.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eun-jae’s expression steadily hardening. With a faint smirk, Seung-hyeon lifted his index finger to his lips. It wasn’t like he found Eun-jae’s sour face particularly satisfying or anything. He was simply… pleased by the voice on the other end of the line—familiar, and for once, welcome.
Then, Gwak Seon-woo spoke.
– Is that really how you say goodbye to someone? Where are your manners?
One of Seung-hyeon’s eyebrows arched in mild surprise. And once again, his lips curved upward without hesitation.
