Seung-hyeon looked so composed he almost seemed innocent. You’d never guess he was the one who just casually suggested getting a room. But Seon-woo had heard him loud and clear—there was no mistaking it. With a cold glare, as if looking at a beast, he stared straight at Seung-hyeon.
At that moment, the sun, which had just been peeking shyly above the horizon, fully emerged over the water. They’d been so absorbed in their conversation that Seon-woo had completely forgotten the sunrise was coming. The conversation had been so intense, it felt like an eternity had passed—but really, it had only been a fleeting moment. Watching the sunrise over the shoulder of someone who had just said something so lewd gave Seon-woo a strange, unsettling feeling.
Despite the nearly contemptuous gaze, Seung-hyeon remained unfazed.
“I haven’t slept a wink… If we head out now, I might doze off while driving.”
Seon-woo flinched instinctively. Now that he heard it, Seung-hyeon had a point. He had immediately assumed the worst, but maybe he was being unfair. After all, while Seung-hyeon had driven through the night without sleep, Seon-woo had passed out comfortably in the passenger seat. The guilt was starting to creep in.
But just as he was getting swept along by that logic, an irritated thought flashed through Seon-woo’s mind.
He’s the one who insisted on this trip in the first place… and that comment was obviously easy to misinterpret.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Seung-hyeon had said it on purpose. But the guy’s face, bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun, looked so pure it made it hard to argue. With a short sigh, Seon-woo turned his head away. It might’ve been less awkward if Seung-hyeon had teased him with something like, “What were you thinking?” but he just smiled quietly, saying nothing more.
Begrudgingly, Seon-woo gave in with a reluctant nod.
“Fine. Let’s at least get some rest before we go.”
The beach was just a short walk away, and the area was packed with guesthouses and motels. Instead of stepping up to choose one himself, Seon-woo let Seung-hyeon take the lead. It didn’t seem like a good look for the Gwanggong to be the one actively picking a motel. Even if the system had been quiet for a while now, there was no telling when it might start acting up again. And really, Seon-woo just didn’t want to look like he was too eager.
Seung-hyeon picked a motel that looked decently clean and went in without hesitation. The owner, who had been sitting at the counter with a bored expression, watching TV, looked up with a puzzled face. It wasn’t every day that two men in suits walked in at this hour, looking like they were on their way to work rather than checking into a beachside motel. The image didn’t quite fit. But in truth, they’d come straight from the office, so it wasn’t far off.
Maybe it was because they didn’t look anything like typical travelers, but the owner just stared at them warily, hesitant to speak. Seung-hyeon was the first to break the silence, completely at ease.
“Do you have a room available?”
It wasn’t peak season, so it would’ve been stranger if there weren’t any vacancies. Realizing that weird or not, a guest was still a guest, the owner’s demeanor softened a bit.
After getting the key, the two of them stepped into a slightly outdated elevator and headed up to their assigned floor.
“We’ve got an ocean view, huh?”
Seung-hyeon stepped into the room first, speaking in a fairly upbeat tone. Instead of looking out at the ocean view through the window, Seon-woo cast a quick glance at Seung-hyeon, who was looking that way. Then, with Seung-hyeon distracted, he took the opportunity to scan the room himself.
The place was relatively clean—well-maintained, by the looks of it. Near the bathroom, two fresh bathrobes were hung neatly. Seon-woo had been a bit concerned since they hadn’t brought a change of clothes, but at least they’d be able to wash up properly.
Before long, it seemed Seung-hyeon lost interest in the ocean and turned his attention to Seon-woo.
“You do look tired.”
Seon-woo spoke up bluntly. Seung-hyeon, who had been rubbing at the corners of his eyes, really did look worn out. He gave a tired smile and answered,
“Yeah… everything feels kind of scrambled right now.”
At that, Seon-woo turned his head slightly, nodding toward the bathrobes. His tone was casual, as if offering something trivial.
“Go ahead and shower first.”
“What about you, Director?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Seung-hyeon asked evenly, and Seon-woo replied just as nonchalantly. Still, the fact that he couldn’t quite bring himself to look directly at Seung-hyeon made him feel a little self-conscious. Regardless, his voice came out calm and steady.
“Didn’t you just say you were tired? Hurry up and wash, then go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll shower while you’re resting.”
At that, Seung-hyeon didn’t say a word—he just stared fixedly at Seon-woo. Even with his head turned away, Seon-woo could feel the intense stare boring into him. It was starting to make him sweat internally, but he forced himself to sound unaffected as he asked,
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
The tone was even and composed. It had become second nature now. Maybe it was because he’d consciously tried to speak like a Gwanggong for so long, or maybe, without realizing it, he’d started to become one. He hadn’t meant to, but the sharp-edged way of talking kept slipping out of him lately—intentional or not, it seemed the persona had settled into him.
After a beat, Seung-hyeon finally answered. He gave a faint shake of the head, his voice sounding natural and effortless.
“No reason.”
It wasn’t the first time Seung-hyeon had waved things off like that with a simple “no reason.” Seon-woo didn’t press further and gave a vague nod instead. He had no interest in dragging this strange standoff out any longer.
Seung-hyeon smiled faintly, then grabbed one of the robes with surprising precision and disappeared into the bathroom.
With a quiet sigh, Seon-woo sat down on the edge of the bed. While he had managed to get some sleep in the car, unlike Seung-hyeon who hadn’t slept at all, he was still exhausted. Sure, the strong body of a Gwanggong didn’t wear down that easily—but mentally, he was drained.
Gwak Seung-hyeon… was still an unreadable person. No matter how much time passed, Seon-woo couldn’t figure out what went on in his head. And yet, what was strange—what was truly odd—was that he never once suspected Seung-hyeon of having bad intentions. Maybe it was just his own desire to trust him. Still, even setting that aside, Seon-woo had never been wrong about a feeling like this before.
While Seon-woo was lost in thought, Seung-hyeon opened the bathroom door and came out. Judging by his damp hair, he’d managed both a shower and shampoo in a short time. Seon-woo tensed up without realizing it.
Seung-hyeon, with his chocolate-brown hair covered by a towel, spoke in a slightly muffled voice. Whether it was because he had his head bowed, was focused on drying his hair, or was just too sleepy—it was hard to tell.
“You can go in now…”
Seon-woo sprang to his feet. Without taking time to think, he quickly strode toward the bathroom door. It wasn’t just about showering—he needed to get out of that space. There was an unexplainable urgency, a desire to escape.
By the time he came back out, Seung-hyeon was already sprawled across the bed. Eyes closed, motionless—it looked like he had fallen asleep. Seon-woo silently walked over to the window and drew the curtains. He didn’t particularly need more sleep himself, so the sunlight wouldn’t have bothered him, but he figured it might disturb Seung-hyeon’s rest.
As the room dimmed, a strange sense of calm washed over him. After a moment of hesitation, he approached the bed. With nothing better to do, he figured he might as well lie down too.
Seung-hyeon had left plenty of space for him and was fast asleep. Seon-woo sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his face. It seemed he hadn’t completely dried his hair before lying down—his hair was still damp.
He’s going to catch a cold like that… careless as always.
The wet strands bothered him, but waking someone just to dry their hair felt a bit much. The room wasn’t cold anyway—it’d be fine. Carefully, Seon-woo lifted the blanket and lay down beside him.
Hah…
He tried to clear his mind, but the more he tried, the clearer everything became. Seung-hyeon’s steady breathing echoed in his ears, and his own heartbeat pounded like a drum in his chest. It was infuriating how much he was aware of the person next to him.
Still, it made sense. Unless he got full-on amnesia and forgot he’d slept with Gwak Seung-hyeon, he wasn’t going to stop thinking about it. Seon-woo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself to sleep that wouldn’t come.
“Director… you’re hard.”
His eyes snapped open. Of all times, why now did that line resurface in his head? A crushing wave of shame surged through him, and it almost brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to leap up and smack himself in the head. What the hell kind of disgraceful situation was this? Lying next to someone who had passed out from exhaustion, thinking about their last time having sex?
Seon-woo turned over with a grimace and lay on his side, facing away. Folding his arms tightly, the discomfort of the position at least helped him calm down. Just as he started to feel himself settle, he heard movement behind him—someone shifting on the bed. He froze, keeping his breathing as light and still as possible.
Then silence. Seung-hyeon seemed to have dozed off again.
“……”
“…Director.”
…No, he hadn’t.
Seon-woo kept his eyes closed and said nothing. The rough rasp of Seung-hyeon’s voice tickled at his ear, and he barely resisted the shiver that crept down his spine. But then Seung-hyeon’s presence grew closer—and with it came a soft, low chuckle.
“Can’t sleep?”
His ears burned, and a chill ran so deep it made his skin crawl. It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was a visceral reaction, the kind that made him seriously consider shoving Seung-hyeon right off the bed. And he might’ve done exactly that… if Seung-hyeon hadn’t wrapped an arm around his waist first.
“What are you—”
But the words never finished. Seung-hyeon’s hand, draped around him, began to slowly slide lower. His fingers toyed with the loosely tied sash of Seon-woo’s robe, then slipped deftly beneath it. Seon-woo held his breath, every nerve tuned to the sound of Seung-hyeon breathing beside him. Then came a voice, close and deliberate.
“Because of this?”
In that moment, Seung-hyeon’s voice overlapped perfectly with a memory—“You’re hard, Director.” The tone, the cadence—it was the same. But somehow, this was worse. Far more unbearable than hearing it back then.
Seon-woo squeezed his eyes shut, face burning.
