If what he said was his way of saying “don’t provoke me,” then Gwak Seung-hyeon was quite the refined speaker.
But the sensation between Seon-woo’s legs was anything but refined.
He’d said with words that this wasn’t right—yet there was nothing hesitant about the way he gripped Seon-woo’s cock and began moving his hips again.
All Seung-hyeon was doing was rubbing between his thighs, and yet—why did it feel almost as intense as actual penetration?
With Seung-hyeon’s erection nestled firmly between those tight thighs, every thrust grazed Seon-woo’s perineum and scrotum. The timing of the motion matched nearly perfectly with the stimulation at the head of his cock, as if the whole thing had been meticulously calculated.
“First time, my ass… Who are you trying to fool?”
He wanted to say that.
But because of the penalty, his mouth was sealed shut. He couldn’t even moan properly, let alone get a full sentence out. All that escaped his lips were soft, wheezing breaths—hff, hff—like air leaking from a balloon.
Seung-hyeon must’ve thought Seon-woo was holding back a moan, because his voice came, gentle and coaxing.
“You don’t have to hold it in, you know.”
Of course, Seon-woo couldn’t respond to that either. Not like he would’ve said anything nice if he could. Instead, he just turned his head and glared.
And what he saw was Seung-hyeon’s calm-looking face flushed with heat.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
Seung-hyeon asked in a sweet voice, not waiting for a reply as he leaned in closer. Even at this proximity, his face was flawless—so annoyingly perfect, it dulled the edge of Seon-woo’s anger for a moment.
Just as his irritation began to waver, Seung-hyeon’s lips drew near.
He pressed a brief kiss to the corner of Seon-woo’s eye… and then, without warning, drove his hips forward with force.
The soft kiss around his eyes was a stark contrast to the sharp sensation that followed.
Already unable to speak, Seon-woo was left even more speechless, his eyes snapping open into slits.
In response, Seung-hyeon began gently stroking his cock again, as if to soothe him.
It was laughably shallow as far as comfort went, but even more ridiculous was how Seon-woo’s body responded to his every touch—so faithfully, so helplessly.
What else could he do… but accept it? He gave in with a quiet nod to himself, surrendering to the waves of sensation crashing through him.
Seung-hyeon’s movements grew bolder. His strokes over Seon-woo’s shaft picked up speed.
Since Seon-woo couldn’t speak and Seung-hyeon wasn’t much of a talker in bed to begin with, the room was filled only with their ragged breaths for a long time.
At some point, Seung-hyeon’s finger traced a firm stroke across the tip of Seon-woo’s glans, and tension shot through his arm.
His breath hitched, and from his mouth came a raw, animalistic pant—haah, haah—that he couldn’t suppress.
Mortified, Seon-woo covered his face with one hand. It somehow felt more desperate and depraved than if he’d just let out a moan.
As he reached climax amid that swirl of shame, Seung-hyeon let out a quiet moan of his own.
“Ah……”
A slick warmth seeped near Seon-woo’s scrotum.
His body trembled involuntarily, as if recoiling in disgust. He’d just climaxed—with his cousin’s cock pressed between his thighs and that cousin’s hand wrapped around him.
The sheer wrongness of it, the absurd, overwhelming shame—hit him like a blow to the head.
Seung-hyeon let out a satisfied sigh and wrapped his arms around Seon-woo, nestling his face into the crook of his shoulder.
The strange sense of fulfillment wasn’t his alone. Seon-woo felt it too. Seung-hyeon opened his mouth as if to say something.
“Director.”
Seung-hyeon’s voice.
Seon-woo tried to answer, lips parting instinctively—but still, no words came out. He turned his head to signal What are you talking about? when the voice of the system, silent until now, suddenly whispered in his ear again.
<Your Gwanggong Score has decreased by 1.>
Again, the drop was minimal. Barely noticeable. But that didn’t mean he could relax.
<You have continued behavior unbefitting of a Gwanggong. Status effects are stacking.>
<‘Status Effect: Deep Sleep’ has activated! Raise your Gwanggong Score to resolve it.>
The moment he heard that, Seon-woo realized all the words in that notification—aside from “Deep Sleep”—were just decorative filler.
Drowsiness hit him like a wave, but his thoughts were racing—alarmingly fast, given how his body was starting to shut down.
When the system had dropped his Gwanggong Score drastically before, it had been abrupt and overwhelming. But now, after triggering a status effect, his score had only gone down by 1 or 2 points.
Which meant… the system had a reason not to lower the score further.
Seon-woo recalled how the system had lost control when his Gwanggong Score had dropped dramatically. Back then, he’d assumed the first system shutdown was caused by a steep score decline.
But during the second time, even though his score dropped similarly, the system remained stable. That made him start to question whether the system crash was truly tied to the score after all. Now, judging by the system’s behavior, he finally had a clue.
It wasn’t that the system couldn’t lower his score more—it didn’t dare to. Instead, it chose to put him to sleep, clearly trying to gloss over the situation however it could.
In other words… while a score drop didn’t automatically result in a system crash, it was definitely a prerequisite. If the right conditions were met in tandem with a falling score, then the system would lose control.
All that remained was to figure out what those “other conditions” were…
At that moment, Seung-hyeon gently cupped Seon-woo’s cheek and turned his face toward him. His vision, already blurred by sleep, only barely made out Seung-hyeon’s face. A faint, helpless smile hovered on his lips.
Seon-woo, without even thinking, smiled softly back.
Falling asleep happened in an instant.
***
And then—once again—he was dreaming.
This time, Gwak Seon-woo found himself standing in a quiet place, utterly devoid of people. He glanced around. He was in the center of a columbarium. Just as he wondered if he truly was the only one there, a lone figure caught his eye.
A petite woman, standing perfectly still with her head bowed. She looked like she’d been planted in place. A new face, appearing in the middle of this strange sequence of dreams.
Until now, only Gwak Seung-hyeon, Seo Eun-jae, and Gwak Sang-cheol had shown up in his dreams.
Which meant… this woman must be someone important, too.
It was her.
Gwak Seon-woo narrowed his eyes, studying the figure intently. It took quite some time before the woman finally raised her head. As expected, it was a familiar face.
“My dear…”
Seung-hyeon’s mother called out softly, her voice tinged with longing. This must’ve been the columbarium where her husband—Seung-hyeon’s adoptive father—was laid to rest.
In dreams, Seon-woo never had control to begin with, but this time his body felt even stiffer than usual. Probably because of the weight in his chest. That’s when he noticed a suspicious shadow approaching from the distance.
There was no sound of footsteps—no indication of presence at all—so she hadn’t realized someone was coming up behind her.
He wanted to shout at her to turn around, to say something—anything. But even in the dream, Seon-woo’s mouth was sealed shut. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move his lips.
The suspicious man, now only a few steps away, stood behind her and reached out. A cloth clutched in his hand.
She didn’t even turn around before collapsing silently. Her mouth covered, she went down without a word. One thing was absolutely certain:
The man who attacked her was not the Gwanggong.
His face was completely concealed, so his identity remained unknown—but there was no doubt. Compared to the Gwanggong, this man’s build was smaller, his stature far shorter.
And more than anything—A thought surged through Seon-woo’s mind, so strong it wasn’t clear if it was his own or someone else’s. A thought he couldn’t tell if he’d come up with himself or if it was planted there.
“No way—”
At first, he figured it must be a system-implanted narrative, or perhaps an inner monologue from the Gwanggong. But the more he dwelled on it, the stronger a conviction grew within him.
“That crude, despicable act… was it me?”
Once that idea took hold, it was easy to reach a conclusion.
“There’s only one person who’d stoop that low…”
Only one possibility. But before the thought could go any further, the dream changed.
Everything around him went dark in an instant.
Then—A small voice began to filter through the blackness.
“…have to go…”
At first it was too faint to make out. He couldn’t tell who it was, or even what they were trying to say. But the voice grew steadily louder.
“I have to go…”
By the time the words became clear enough to understand, a figure materialized before his eyes. A man, sitting on the edge of a bed with his face buried in both hands. His voice trembled, raw and uneven, revealing the state of his heart.
Seon-woo stared down at him without blinking, silently waiting for him to lift his head. But deep down, he already knew who it was. The soft, light brown hair. The fragile, shaking voice. Even without seeing his face, it was unmistakable.
Seo Eun-jae.
Finally, after a long silence, Eun-jae lifted his tear-streaked face. The Eun-jae in the dream looked weak, innocent—completely different from the version Seon-woo had seen in reality. But despite the vulnerability in his features, there was a flicker of resolve behind his eyes. He continued talking to himself in a voice filled with conviction.
“…He must be having such a hard time… The Director… He needs me.”
Another short silence. Then, with a voice that wavered on the edge of tears, Eun-jae made up his mind.
“I have to be by his side.”
After speaking those words, Eun-jae stood from the bed. He began walking toward the door. His back looked so fragile, so uncertain, that Seon-woo couldn’t take his eyes off him. Not until he opened the door and disappeared from view.
