Holding the phone to Seung-hyeon’s ear and listening to him talk somehow helped Seon-woo feel a little calmer. But as the call went on, it was Seung-hyeon’s voice that began to falter. His tone grew uncharacteristically sharp as he fired off a question, then fell silent while waiting for a response. After a moment, he turned his head slightly and mouthed the words to Seon-woo.
“Just a moment.”
Seung-hyeon gently touched Seon-woo’s hand, which was still holding the phone, and pulled it away slightly. He tapped the screen a couple of times, and the muffled voice on the other end suddenly came through clearly on speaker. Even in that moment, Seung-hyeon gave a subtle wink and raised a finger to his lips in a shhh gesture. Seon-woo gave a small nod and placed the phone on the stand.
“Did she really say that? That I was the one who sent him?”
— Yes, she did. Poor thing seemed like he hadn’t even had a proper meal before rushing out this morning. I figured I’d at least feed him something, so I came out here. He gave up his day off to come help, and I thought that was so sweet and thoughtful of him.
The voice of Seung-hyeon’s mother, Jeong-hee, came gently through the speaker. Since Seon-woo had missed the beginning of the conversation, he could only try to piece things together from what he was hearing now and the tense expression on Seung-hyeon’s face.
— Seung-hyeon, you’re not forcing your subordinates to do work they don’t want to do, are you? Or overworking them? He said he’s fine, but… Honestly, you should’ve come yourself. Don’t you think it’s about time you went together? To your father’s memorial.
None of it made much sense. At least it didn’t sound like anything was wrong with Jo Jeong-hee, which was a relief—but judging from Seung-hyeon’s expression, this was definitely not a good situation. Seon-woo narrowed his eyes and stared hard at his face, as if that would somehow reveal the answer.
Seung-hyeon let out a barely audible sigh. But when he spoke, his voice was composed.
“You should’ve called me first instead of heading out just to feed him.”
— You’ve sent people over a few times before, haven’t you? And I recognized the name. I mean, come on, I know who’s on your team. When my son even sends someone just to stop me from going alone, I can tell he’s clearly busy. So I figured calling might just burden you more.
Seon-woo watched as Seung-hyeon rubbed his face with both hands, his expression difficult to read.
“Fine. Mom, I’ll head over there now. Don’t leave with Assistant Manager Seo. Just wait there for me a little bit, okay?”
— Why? Did something happen? Was there some kind of mix-up?
“Sort of. I’ll explain when I get there, so just stay put for now, alright?”
Though Jeong-hee sounded confused, she didn’t push further. Once she agreed, Seung-hyeon ended the call.
Seon-woo had been silently waiting, his expression stiff, until the call finally ended. The moment the screen showed the call duration, he immediately spoke up—there was one word from earlier that had stuck with him.
“Assistant Manager Seo? Are you telling me that Seo Eun-jae is… with your aunt right now?”
Seung-hyeon nodded, his face looking slightly stifled. The question had been answered, but Seon-woo’s head was still spinning with confusion. No—if anything, he felt even more lost than before.
Thinking back over the call, Seon-woo was starting to get a vague sense of what was going on. It seemed Jo Jeong-hee made a yearly visit to her late husband’s memorial. While Gwak Seung-hyeon didn’t go with her, he apparently sent someone in his place from time to time. This year was no different—someone had shown up, claiming to have been sent by Seung-hyeon, and now she was having a meal with that person.
But that person was Seo Eun-jae.
Anyone who knew how Seung-hyeon and Eun-jae clashed like cats and dogs every time they met would easily realize that there was no way Seung-hyeon had sent him. Judging from his reaction, he hadn’t just not sent him—he didn’t even know he’d gone.
“How did this happen?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. Why would Assistant Manager Seo go see my mom all of a sudden? They’ve never even met…”
His voice was genuinely baffled. Honestly, Seon-woo felt pretty much the same. What on earth would possess Seo Eun-jae to just show up out of nowhere?
Seon-woo himself had rushed out after seeing a system-generated dream suggesting that something might happen to Seung-hyeon’s mother. But what about Seo Eun-jae? Why him? It was almost as if… as if he knew something, too.
The moment that thought crossed Seon-woo’s mind, a chill ran down his spine. He gave a light shudder.
Did Seo Eun-jae actually know something?
Come to think of it, it had been strange when Eun-jae casually mentioned that Gwak Sang-cheol had approached him. He really didn’t act like some passive ‘main bottom’ character waiting around to be courted by the Gwanggong. He had suspicious vibes written all over him.
“Maybe I should talk to him myself…”
There was no use overthinking it now—he wasn’t going to get any answers that way. It’d be better to just ask Seo Eun-jae directly when he got the chance, or at the very least, start digging into it.
At his muttered words, Seung-hyeon glanced over.
“Why him?”
Hearing that dry tone snapped something back into place in Seon-woo’s mind. He’d nearly forgotten. From Seung-hyeon’s perspective, he, Gwak Seon-woo, must’ve looked extremely suspicious earlier. He’d left the motel acting all shady, asked about the date out of nowhere, and then the moment he heard it was his uncle’s memorial day, his face had drained of color and he’d insisted they head out immediately. He’d pushed hard to call Jo Jeong-hee too. And when they finally did? She just so happened to be with Seo Eun-jae.
If he were Seung-hyeon, he’d definitely be wondering what the hell this cousin of his was plotting.
Is he suspicious of me, too?
Seon-woo glanced sideways at him, trying to read his expression before speaking up.
“This might sound random, but—I seriously had no idea any of this was happening.”
“No idea about what?”
“Why Seo Eun-jae is there… or, well, any of this…”
“Why are you suddenly explaining yourself?”
Seung-hyeon let out a small chuckle. Judging by the words alone, he didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously—but who knew what was going on beneath the surface? Seon-woo ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in frustration.
He had confirmed that Seung-hyeon’s mother was safe, which meant it was time to start explaining his own weird behavior—but things had only gotten more tangled.
“I ran out like that… because I had a bad dream.”
Even as he said it himself, the explanation sounded a little pathetic. But once again, Seung-hyeon simply nodded without question.
“You might’ve just sensed it subconsciously. Even if you don’t remember, something probably lingered under the surface. It’s that kind of day, after all.”
The one who ended up flustered by how readily Seung-hyeon accepted it was actually Seon-woo. Caught off guard by the ease of it, he asked, half-jokingly,
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Is there any reason it should be…?”
Seung-hyeon let his words trail off, clearly intending to drop the subject. But when Seon-woo stayed silent, waiting for a response, he gave in with a small sigh.
“I have nightmares too, sometimes.”
All the internal struggle about how to explain himself suddenly felt pointless. Strangely, that one simple line swept away everything he’d been worrying over. Seon-woo turned his head slightly to glance at Seung-hyeon’s profile. His expression was calm, unbothered.
“It gets worse around this time of year.”
There was no need to ask why—today was his father’s memorial. Seung-hyeon’s face remained composed, but for some reason, that only made Seon-woo’s chest ache more. Still, Seung-hyeon continued speaking, his tone even.
“Honestly, I know it’s terrible to send my mom alone to the memorial every year… But I just can’t bring myself to go.”
“But…”
The thought that someone like that—someone who couldn’t bear to face his father’s memorial—was now headed there because of something he said, made Seon-woo’s chest feel even heavier. Then again, when someone with fragmented memories insists on going, how could Seung-hyeon have refused?
It seemed Seung-hyeon had picked up on what Seon-woo was about to say. He let out a soft, deflated laugh before responding.
“But it’s different with you, Director.”
That stung a little. Even if it wasn’t something he had done, Seon-woo couldn’t help but recall the past behavior of the Gwanggong. A man who had lost his father and a mother who had mourned with him—of course, the rage and verbal abuse the Gwanggong had once hurled at them weren’t even in the same universe.
Is he blaming me? For all the times the Gwanggong lashed out, even knowing Seung-hyeon had just lost his father?
As Seon-woo fell into a quiet moment of self-reflection, Seung-hyeon opened his mouth again.
“I don’t know why, but… I feel like it’ll be okay if I go with you.”
Seon-woo lifted his head at that and came to a sudden realization—To Seung-hyeon, his father’s death was a sorrow he shared with Gwak Seon-woo.
Even though Seon-woo had never tried to share in that grief—and had, in fact, been the one always cornering Seung-hyeon—somehow, he still believed they were bound by it. Maybe that’s why Seung-hyeon had never lashed back, no matter how much Seon-woo had shouted at him.
Seon-woo opened his mouth, trying to say something, anything. But the words died in his throat when he saw Seung-hyeon’s face suddenly turn cold. That expression wasn’t caused by anything Seon-woo had said—he was sure of it. Seung-hyeon’s gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror.
Seon-woo’s instincts flared up. He immediately scanned their surroundings—and that’s when Seung-hyeon spoke in a low, almost whisper-like tone, his eyes still unmoving.
“Don’t look. Just listen… There’s a car tailing us.”
