The moment he woke from the dream and saw Seung-hyeon’s face, Seon-woo couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming or back in reality. His mind, muddled by the vivid images still lingering from the dream, reeled in confusion—and without thinking, he swung his hand at Seung-hyeon the instant he saw him.
“What the hell are you…?”
The words slipped from his lips before he even realized, and no one was more shocked than Seon-woo himself. Maybe it was the remnants of the dream, or maybe it sounded like something muttered in his sleep. Startled by his own reaction, Seon-woo turned to look at Seung-hyeon.
Seung-hyeon stood there, staring at him with a puzzled expression, his hand still hovering in midair where it had been pushed away.
“I… just woke up from a dream.”
Instead of apologizing, Seon-woo offered a half-hearted excuse. Seung-hyeon quickly composed his expression and responded.
“Was it a nightmare?”
Was that what he should call it? A nightmare? Seon-woo sank into silence, lost in thought. Given how he felt right now, calling it a nightmare wasn’t a stretch at all. The version of Gwak Seung-hyeon he’d seen in that dream had shaken him to the core.
He couldn’t understand what the system had been thinking, showing him that dream. Was it trying to ignite his hostility toward Seung-hyeon by revealing part of the original plot? That seemed plausible. And yet, even after seeing it, Seon-woo still couldn’t quite grasp the mindset of the Gwanggong who loathed Gwak Seung-hyeon so deeply.
Leaning back into the car seat, Seon-woo replayed the dream in his mind. Based on what he’d heard in the dream, it seemed the Gwanggong had begun to hate Seung-hyeon after the death of his uncle—Seung-hyeon’s adoptive father. Apparently, he blamed Seung-hyeon and his mother for it. But judging from what Seung-hyeon had said in the dream, it didn’t seem like they had actually driven the man to his death. If anything, it looked like the Gwanggong had latched onto a convenient excuse to lash out.
Seung-hyeon’s voice in the dream was still vivid in Seon-woo’s mind—rage twisting every word as he shouted things like, “Why did you do that to my mother?” and “Get out of Seo Eun-jae’s life forever!” From what Seon-woo knew, nothing had happened recently to Seung-hyeon’s mother, so it probably wasn’t referencing a past event. That meant it must be something set to happen later in the original storyline.
But the earlier part of the dream had been different. Seung-hyeon had clearly been wearing mourning clothes and looked much younger than he did now. That scene must have taken place well before Seon-woo entered the Gwanggong’s body. Which meant their relationship had already been fractured long before Seon-woo arrived—any possibility of lingering goodwill between them was next to none.
After a long hesitation, Seon-woo finally opened his mouth.
“By any chance…”
“Yes?”
Seung-hyeon responded immediately, waiting patiently through the silence. Seon-woo turned his head to look at Seung-hyeon’s face. He was curious about Seung-hyeon’s thoughts—but that wasn’t what he’d meant to ask. What he really wanted to know, out of nowhere – just what would Seung-hyeon say if he had seen that dream too?
But it felt too sudden. And somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to shamelessly ask about it.
In the end, Seon-woo turned his head back and mumbled,
“It’s nothing.”
Anyone else might’ve been annoyed at being called over so seriously, only to have the conversation brushed off—but Seung-hyeon’s demeanor remained steady. His voice was light and teasing as he gently pressed again.
“What was it? Tell me.”
“It’s nothing, I said.”
Seon-woo brushed it off firmly with a wave of his hand. But he could still feel Seung-hyeon’s probing gaze on him.
“Hmm…”
That was all, though. Seung-hyeon gave him a brief once-over, then turned his head forward, as if deciding to let it go.
Feigning composure, Seon-woo unlocked the passenger door and stepped out of the car. It was a sudden move, but Seung-hyeon followed without a hint of hesitation or confusion.
Seon-woo hadn’t been paying attention to the window view, so he hadn’t realized—they were right next to the beach.
He had expected the sky to still be dark, but instead, a faint glow had begun to spread across it. It looked like the kind of light that comes just before sunrise. Puzzled, Seon-woo turned to ask the approaching Seung-hyeon.
“What time is it?”
Without checking the time, Seung-hyeon replied casually,
“Around five-thirty.”
Seon-woo instinctively turned toward him. He clearly remembered they had set out before 1 a.m. There was no way traffic had delayed them this long. Judging by the faint smile on Seung-hyeon’s face, Seon-woo didn’t need to hear an explanation to figure it out.
He’d assumed he had woken up as soon as they arrived—but that wasn’t the case. Pressing a hand to his forehead, Seon-woo let out a sigh.
“You should’ve woken me up when we got here.”
“You were sound asleep. I figured you needed the rest.”
The calm reply instantly wiped away the vague awkwardness and guilt Seon-woo had been feeling. He looked at Seung-hyeon in disbelief and scoffed.
“And the guy who knew that…”
Brings me to the ocean at this hour? He didn’t finish the sentence, but his expression said it all. Still, Seung-hyeon just smiled shamelessly and turned his head away. Seon-woo thought he was going to dodge the question entirely, but then Seung-hyeon responded in a quiet, subdued voice.
“I figured… it had to be now.”
There was weight to those words. Seon-woo glanced at him, brow slightly furrowed, and asked,
“What had to be now?”
“The sun’s about to rise.”
A smooth deflection. Seung-hyeon clearly had no intention of elaborating. And though Seon-woo had asked, he didn’t feel like pressing the issue either. So he simply turned his head toward the beach without another word.
The sea breeze brushed through his hair, and the distant sound of waves rolled in, unbroken. If they waited just a bit longer, the sun would begin to rise over the horizon. Seon-woo spoke with an ambiguous tone.
“Yeah… I guess so.”
Seung-hyeon didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the shore, his own hair tousled by the breeze. He looked—oddly—at peace, almost pleased, as he continued speaking.
“Feels like it’s been forever since I last watched a sunrise.”
Seon-woo could say the same. He nodded vaguely in agreement and asked,
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Nope.”
Seung-hyeon shook his head, his tone still as calm as ever. Seon-woo clicked his tongue softly. He felt a pang of guilt for having slept so soundly while the driver stayed awake the whole time.
Dragging someone out to the beach past midnight, completely on a whim—that was one thing.
But after that, silence hung between them. Seon-woo swallowed the words that hovered on the tip of his tongue more times than he could count, all the while stealing glances at Seung-hyeon’s profile. There were so many things he wanted to ask. And yet, not a single one of them could be shaped into actual words. There were just as many questions he wanted to ask as there were ones he didn’t want to hear the answers to.
It took him a long while, but eventually Seon-woo spoke.
“Hey.”
That vague form of address again. It probably would’ve been better to sort out how to address him once and for all. As Seon-woo was still turning that over in his mind, Seung-hyeon responded without missing a beat, like it was second nature.
“Yes, Director.”
But then it was Seon-woo who couldn’t follow up—his words got caught in his throat again.
“I mean…”
Once more, he just mouthed the words without any sound. Seung-hyeon, who had been staring out at the ocean, turned to look at him. There was no pressure in his gaze, nor any obvious hint of what he expected.
“You can just call me by my name, you know.”
Seon-woo found himself staring into Seung-hyeon’s eyes without meaning to. There wasn’t an easy way to respond to that. Saying “okay” felt awkward. Saying “no” also felt awkward. It wasn’t that he disliked the idea—but calling his cousin “Mr. Gwak Seung-hyeon” felt too formal, and saying “Seung-hyeon-ah” felt… uncomfortable in a different way.
Not because he personally felt awkward with Seung-hyeon, but because of the relationship between the Gwanggong and Gwak Seung-hyeon.
So Seon-woo didn’t answer. Instead, he mentally organized what he wanted to say. What question could he ask that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions?
It seemed best to avoid anything related to Gwak Sang-cheol for now, just in case. If he suddenly asked, “What’s your relationship with Gwak Sang-cheol?” it would sound completely off. And if he asked something like, “Were you conspiring with him?”—only for it to turn out to be just a dream—he’d definitely come across as insane.
After careful thought, Seon-woo finally spoke.
“Do you… dislike me?”
He could clearly see the shift in Seung-hyeon’s expression. Before the other could answer, Seon-woo quickly looked away.
He was curious—what was Seung-hyeon thinking right now? Was he taken aback by the question’s suddenness? Or was he thinking, “How did he find out?” The second thought came half as a joke, but even the slim possibility that Seung-hyeon might answer “Actually, yes. I do dislike you.” made Seon-woo’s heart drop.
Truthfully, it would make more sense if Seung-hyeon did dislike Gwak Seon-woo. Judging by the way the Gwanggong had treated Seung-hyeon—it only seemed natural. But now, after witnessing that dream, the thought weighed even heavier on him. The way the Gwanggong had blamed Seung-hyeon and his mother for his adoptive father’s death, the constant mistreatment and coldness…
So why had Seung-hyeon been so patient with him?
Could there have been some hidden agenda, like the one hinted at in the dream? No, he told himself. This Seung-hyeon is completely different from the one in that dream. The more he wanted to believe it, the more his head throbbed with doubt.
Just as Seon-woo continued to avoid his gaze, Seung-hyeon, silent all this time, finally spoke.
“Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”
There was a strange tension in his voice—something subtly off. Unlike all his previous replies, which had come swiftly and smoothly, this one took a noticeable beat longer. The moment Seon-woo heard it, he turned to look at Seung-hyeon’s face—and froze.
There was something cold, something unfamiliar in Seung-hyeon’s eyes that sent a chill down his spine.
