▶ Ignore Gwak Seung-hyeon and go to Seo Eun-jae.
▶ Give up on going to Seo Eun-jae and stay by Gwak Seung-hyeon’s side.
Gwak Seon-woo stared at the options hovering before his eyes, lost in thought. His original intention had been to follow Seo Eun-jae to pick up on any potential clues. According to the plot of the original work, Seung-hyeon’s mother was supposed to visit the columbarium where her husband’s remains were kept and be assaulted by a mysterious attacker. Seo Eun-jae wasn’t involved in that storyline at all. Which meant Eun-jae holding on to Jo Jeong-hee today was an unexpected deviation from the original script.
Of course, the current Gwak Seon-woo was no longer the same person as the original Gwanggong, so it was only natural that the story would change. Still, this shift in Seo Eun-jae’s behavior seemed too significant to chalk up to just that. In Seon-woo’s mind, Eun-jae… seemed to know something. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but the sense was unmistakable.
That was what he’d wanted to uncover—but now, with this apparent branching point presenting itself, the situation had shifted. Depending on which option he chose here, the course of the story would be altered moving forward. Maybe this was a choice meant to test whether Seon-woo would choose Gwak Seung-hyeon or Seo Eun-jae.
Up to this point, he’d never seen a choice that implied choosing Seung-hyeon over Eun-jae. The appearance of such an option now was highly unusual.
It might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. That thought had made Seon-woo lean toward choosing to stay by Seung-hyeon’s side. Things had already spiraled far beyond what he’d expected. The idea of targeting Seo Eun-jae for a smoother life was already a futile, meaningless ambition. Besides, Seung-hyeon himself had directly asked him to stay. Refusing that now felt nearly impossible.
But just before he could speak the words aloud—before he could say he’d stay—a mechanical voice from the system rang out.
<If you don’t go to Seo Eun-jae now, you may miss a critical clue.>
The voice was calm and mechanical, devoid of emotion. It didn’t force a choice like before, didn’t hijack his movements against his will. And somehow, that only made it more disorienting. If he were being manipulated, at least he wouldn’t have to agonize over the decision. But now, everything was being left up to his own judgment.
Why wasn’t the system intervening as forcefully as before? Could it be that its capabilities had diminished after that downtime? He wanted to believe that. But even so, it was hard to dismiss the system’s voice out of hand—because Gwak Seon-woo himself couldn’t shake the ominous feeling gnawing at him.
He had a gut feeling that the system wasn’t bluffing or lying. That he should go to Seo Eun-jae right now. Because… as hard as it was for Seung-hyeon to understand, there had to be something important hidden in Seo Eun-jae’s behavior—something different from the original story.
In the end, did he have no choice but to choose Seo Eun-jae over Gwak Seung-hyeon? With a tangled, heavy heart, Seon-woo slowly lifted his gaze and looked at Seung-hyeon’s face.
And then he thought to himself.
The system’s influence isn’t as overpowering as it once was. So just because I go to Seo Eun-jae now… doesn’t mean I’m locked into the ‘Seo Eun-jae route’ ending, right? The path is still open.
Seon-woo opened his mouth without hesitation.
“I’ll be right back.”
Whether the system had manipulated events to separate Gwak Seung-hyeon and Gwak Seon-woo, or whether it had genuinely offered him a head start toward the answer—it was impossible to say for sure. But one thing was clear: if he missed Seo Eun-jae now, there might not be another chance to confront him later.
Seung-hyeon’s inscrutable gaze immediately zeroed in on Seon-woo, piercingly intense—almost frightening in its scrutiny. Whether he was angry or not, Seon-woo couldn’t be certain. A pang of anxiety crept into him. He felt an irrational urge to prove that he really would come back.
“I will come back. Even if I’m a little late—”
“I understand.”
Before he could finish explaining, Seung-hyeon cut him off and replied gently. The reaction was much calmer than Seon-woo had expected, especially considering the system had presented it as a major branching point. He’d assumed it would trigger a more emotional response. Watching closely for any clue to Seung-hyeon’s thoughts, Seon-woo studied his expression—just as Seung-hyeon offered a faint smile.
“I’ve gotten used to waiting. Thanks to you, Director.”
The added remark left Seon-woo sheepish. Was that supposed to make him feel guilty?
Did I really make him wait that much?
With a light cough to clear the air, Seon-woo looked squarely at Seung-hyeon again. If not for the constraints of the Gwanggong role, he might’ve at least grabbed his hand before leaving. His eyes briefly dropped to Seung-hyeon’s hand, but instead of reaching for it, he lifted his own and gave him a soft pat on the shoulder.
“Take your mother and go wait at the office. Just stay in my office.”
The company had been chosen as the destination because it was likely the safest option. The suspicious car that had followed them earlier had been successfully shaken off, so the driver probably wouldn’t track them again. Still, there was no rule that said there had to be only one attacker. It was best to be cautious. Luckily, the company wasn’t far from here, and it wasn’t easy for anyone—even a reckless intruder—to cause harm inside a major corporate building.
Seung-hyeon quietly stared at the shoulder Seon-woo had touched. Seon-woo, having said what needed to be said, quickly turned away and began walking. His steps were urgent, driven by the pressing thought that he needed to return as soon as possible.
He didn’t need to search blindly for Seo Eun-jae’s whereabouts. Unlike the earlier, more passive behavior, the system had become notably proactive again the moment he chose this path. With the voice in his ear guiding him like a GPS, Seon-woo moved swiftly.
Despite expecting it to take a while, finding Seo Eun-jae was surprisingly easy. He hadn’t gone far—just a few blocks away, down a narrow alley. And the moment Seon-woo laid eyes on him, he could tell he’d arrived at the right time.
Seo Eun-jae wasn’t alone. He was with someone. From a distance, his interaction with the other person already looked suspicious. It was clear they were in conversation, but the setting—the secluded alleyway—instantly triggered alarms in Seon-woo’s mind.
His first instinct was to cement his suspicions about Eun-jae. It looked like some kind of covert meeting, like a spy rendezvous. But the situation wasn’t that simple. As he drew closer, the atmosphere shifted. Eun-jae was staring at the other person with a look of complete unfamiliarity—like he was seeing a total stranger.
“Who are you? Why are you…?”
“Don’t play dumb. You’d better start giving honest answers.”
Seon-woo listened closely to the conversation as he approached. The two were so absorbed in their own world that they didn’t even notice him getting closer. Whatever the truth behind the situation, from the outside, it looked like Seo Eun-jae was being interrogated by an unknown man while on high alert.
The man had a firm grip on Eun-jae’s shoulder and spoke in a threatening tone.
“Answer me properly. Why did you—”
That’s when Gwak Seon-woo stepped in. The guy hadn’t even sensed his presence, which made it all too easy to subdue him. Seon-woo pulled the man off of Eun-jae and instinctively twisted his arms behind his back, locking them tight. Then, turning to Eun-jae, he saw the other man staring back at him in shock.
“Looks like you and I have some things to talk about, Mr. Seo Eun-jae.”
But first, interrogating this man came before anything else. Seon-woo opened his mouth to ask who had sent him. Just as he was about to force the man to lift his head—still bowed, refusing to show his face—
“Director! Behind you!”
At Eun-jae’s cry, Seon-woo reflexively turned around.
In that instant, the restrained man twisted Seon-woo’s wrist and broke free. He then drove his knee hard into Seon-woo’s leg and bolted like lightning. Even though Seon-woo tried to chase him, the blow to his knee slowed him down, and although he had the powerful body of the “Gwanggong,” the man inside it wasn’t exactly trained for combat. Catching him was no easy feat.
And the direction Seo Eun-jae had pointed to? There was no one there.
Having let the man slip away, Seon-woo turned to Eun-jae with a cold, hard stare. Eun-jae, looking a little flustered, asked cautiously:
“…Are you okay?”
At this point, Seon-woo couldn’t make heads or tails of this man. Did he just intentionally sabotage the arrest? Perhaps realizing what Seon-woo was thinking, Eun-jae quickly tried to explain himself.
“Someone really was there! I-I swear, if you check over there now—”
“That’s enough.”
The voice that escaped Seon-woo’s lips sounded unfamiliar, even to himself. The old Gwak Seon-woo would’ve just sighed, maybe seemed a little deflated, and brushed it off with something like, ‘I guess that can happen.’ But now… he couldn’t.
He stared down at Eun-jae’s anxious face. Where did the acting end and the truth begin?
Seon-woo grabbed him by the collar and looked him straight in the eyes. To anyone watching, he no longer looked like someone who had just come to save Seo Eun-jae. And though Eun-jae’s face showed surprise at first, he quickly masked the expression.
With a frigid voice, Seon-woo asked:
“Why were you looking for Jo Jeong-hee? How did you know?”
Just as he expected, Seo Eun-jae didn’t answer right away. His behavior was downright bizarre. He had all the signs of a spy, yet there were too many holes. Just today alone—yes, his actions had been suspicious—but in the end, he’d helped protect Jo Jeong-hee.
“Mr. Seo Eun-jae.”
With his head slightly bowed, Seon-woo spoke in the coldest tone he could muster.
“What do you know?”
Maybe—just maybe—Seo Eun-jae really did know the original story. Things that even Gwak Seon-woo, the player, didn’t fully understand.
