Eun-jae hung his head, completely drained, and didn’t say a word. Seon-woo simply looked down at him in silence. Only after a long pause did Eun-jae finally open his mouth, his voice tinged with a hollow laugh.
“Are you just going to keep looking at me like I disgust you?”
It was the kind of comment that could’ve made someone flinch, but Seon-woo didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t bother explaining that the expression on his face wasn’t one of disgust—it was weighed down by guilt. Saying so would’ve only undermined the harsh rejection he’d just delivered.
Pressing for more answers would probably get him nowhere. And confronting someone who looked that hurt because of him, demanding they reveal their identity regardless—it wasn’t something he could bring himself to do.
Seon-woo debated whether to apologize, then ultimately kept his mouth shut. He turned his head away in silence. His steps were heavy as he walked away, leaving Seo Eun-jae alone—but not so heavy they held him back.
He flagged down a taxi and gave the company’s name. The driver kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror, probably curious about the passenger who clearly wasn’t in a normal state. But Seon-woo’s aura made it obvious he didn’t want to talk, and the driver wisely kept quiet.
The whole ride to the office, Seon-woo remained on high alert. He was still worried that another car might tail him. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, and he arrived at the front of the company without incident.
On the elevator ride up, his head was a mess of thoughts.
Had Seo Eun-jae really known Gwak Seon-woo for a long time? If so, was he also someone who had come from inside a game or a novel, like Seon-woo himself? But if that were true, the timing felt off. That would mean he’d experienced something like this at a very young age.
Seon-woo had some idea of what it felt like to know how your life would unfold ahead of time. And just like he had wanted to break away from that path, it seemed Eun-jae hadn’t been content with the one laid out for him either. Assuming that was true left Seon-woo with a complicated feeling—because it meant they weren’t so different.
What would’ve happened if the variable named Gwak Seung-hyeon hadn’t existed?
Probably not anything better than the current outcome. Seon-woo pushed the thought aside and opened the door to the executive office. He saw Gwak Seung-hyeon sitting on top of the desk. His posture was lax, almost disrespectful, but it came so naturally to him that it didn’t even feel out of place. Seung-hyeon slowly raised his head and met Seon-woo’s eyes.
“You’re here.”
His tone had a strange air of nostalgia. For some reason, Seon-woo felt awkward and looked away.
“I said I’d come.”
His voice came out gruff without meaning to. But Seung-hyeon just smiled, unfazed by the attitude. Seon-woo didn’t want to continue the small talk and changed the subject.
“Where’s Aunt?”
Jo Jeong-hee was nowhere to be seen in the office. He hadn’t expected Seung-hyeon to keep his mother away, which made it all the more puzzling. Seung-hyeon set down the documents he was holding and answered without hesitation.
“He’s with Secretary Kim.”
At those words, Seon-woo rubbed his chin thoughtfully and asked,
“Can that person be trusted?”
It must’ve sounded like an odd question, because Seung-hyeon responded with a natural counter-question.
“Who?”
Feeling a bit awkward himself, Seon-woo replied as shamelessly as possible.
“My secretary.”
One of Seung-hyeon’s eyebrows arched, clearly amused. His expression was somewhere between surprised and teasing. A sigh of annoyance slipped out of Seon-woo’s mouth before he could stop it. By now, reacting like this to Seung-hyeon’s face had become a habit.
“What’s with that look on your face?”
Seung-hyeon didn’t answer and smoothly changed the subject.
“If we’re talking about Secretary Kim, he’s not the type to betray you.”
It was obvious he was dodging the question, which made Seon-woo uneasy, but the answer was still something he needed to hear, so he let it go.
“He seems fairly loyal, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders. I doubt he’d make a reckless choice.”
The words were sharp yet composed—but their meaning wasn’t all that bad. Seon-woo tried to recall Secretary Kim’s face. He hadn’t paid much attention, thinking the man was just another background character, so the image in his memory was vague.
“Plenty of people have probably tried to approach him with offers to betray you. But not one of them could truly be trusted to keep their promises. I mean, really—who in their right mind would entrust something important to someone who’s already proven they can stab their boss in the back? Especially someone as narrow-minded and suspicious as you…”
As Seung-hyeon spoke, Seon-woo recalled the way his secretary had acted toward him. At that family dinner, the secretary had openly ignored Seung-hyeon and followed only Seon-woo’s words. Clearly, the guy had a strong sense of loyalty toward his Gwanggong. Gwak Seung-hyeon smiled as he wrapped up his point.
“Anyway, no need to worry. He offered to bring her some tea, and I figured it’d help calm my mother down to have him around… so I said okay. Though, to be honest, I’m sure it’s because he didn’t want her in your office or with me.”
He said it casually, but the content wasn’t something to take lightly. Even if the secretary had done it for his sake, Seon-woo didn’t feel inclined to praise him—and maybe that was because of Gwak Seung-hyeon. With a bitter tone, Seon-woo muttered,
“I should’ve said something in advance.”
“It’s fine.”
That unaffected voice, that same unreadable expression—it all rubbed him the wrong way. If this were the original Gwanggong, he definitely would’ve gotten angry at this point, accusing him of putting on a show of generosity. Instead, Seon-woo turned his head away. Then, narrowing his eyes, he spoke again with a sharper edge.
“I asked you why your face looks like that.”
This time, Seung-hyeon didn’t pretend not to understand. He laughed and shot back,
“And what kind of face is it?”
At a glance, he was smiling just like usual. But something about it… Seon-woo didn’t like the way it looked like he was barely holding back his amusement. With a calm voice, he assessed it:
“Annoying… and tragically noble.”
“And what exactly do you mean by tragically noble?”
Once again, instead of answering, Seung-hyeon threw back another question.
“It means a face full of guilty conscience. Enough with the deflections—just talk.”
Seon-woo had no intention of letting himself get dragged around anymore. Regaining his composure, he asked in a dry tone, and only then did Seung-hyeon finally respond.
“I just found it fascinating. The fact that you trust me more than your loyal secretary… if things were still like before, that would’ve been unimaginable.”
The words came out in quick succession, and Seon-woo almost asked what exactly he found so fascinating.
But it turned out to be a rather bland revelation. Between someone like Gwak Seung-hyeon—who had shared so much with him, even in the absence of memories—and a secretary he only knew in name, the answer was obvious. Still, Seon-woo had no desire to say it out loud and give Seung-hyeon the satisfaction, so he simply responded with a small, mocking snort.
That was when Seung-hyeon asked,
“Do you trust me?”
The intent behind the question was so transparent that Seon-woo didn’t even feel like responding. He just narrowed his eyes into a sharp glare. Undeterred, Seung-hyeon asked again,
“How much do you trust me?”
It was a calm question—the same one Seo Eun-jae had asked earlier. And yet, coming from someone else, it somehow felt infinitely more composed. Instead of giving a straight answer, Seon-woo decided to use the same tactic Seung-hyeon had employed earlier—he deflected.
“You had a pretty specific opinion about Secretary Kim. Then what’s your self-assessment?”
“Me?”
Even though it was obvious Seon-woo was talking about him, Seung-hyeon feigned ignorance. When Seon-woo’s gaze grew colder, Seung-hyeon quickly took the hint and replied.
“Well, I’m someone who always thinks it’s my duty to live up to your trust.”
The slick tone was irritating, yet somehow didn’t cross the line into truly offensive. Seon-woo slowly turned his head to the side. In a calm, level voice, he said,
“I didn’t get any particularly revealing confession out of Seo Eun-jae.”
Seung-hyeon didn’t seem fazed by the abrupt topic change. His answer came smoothly.
“Did he seem like he had something to hide?”
“Can’t say he didn’t.”
The fact that Seung-hyeon didn’t press aggressively for details was something Seon-woo appreciated. It made it easier to keep the conversation going in a relaxed way. He recalled what he had pushed to the back of his mind while focusing on Seung-hyeon’s words just moments earlier—Seo Eun-jae looking like he was being threatened by that unknown assailant.
“But it did feel like he was being watched.”
He had briefly forgotten about it while suspecting that Eun-jae might have helped the assailant escape. But back then, the man had been struggling, resisting as if he really was being attacked. There was always the possibility it had all been an act, but if it had been real, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t come after Eun-jae again. It seemed reasonable to assign someone to keep watch and ensure his safety.
“For now, we should put someone on him…”
Seon-woo, who had been murmuring to himself, soon lifted his head calmly. They hadn’t caught the driver who had been tailing them, nor the man who had threatened Eun-jae—but that didn’t mean they were out of options.
“Let’s start by checking the dashcam footage. We need to identify the driver.”
As he finished speaking, he glanced toward Seung-hyeon, aware of the other man’s gaze. Though Seung-hyeon acted like he was listening seriously, he couldn’t quite conceal the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Seon-woo asked,
“Why do you keep… looking at me like that?”
He expected Seung-hyeon to dodge the question again, but surprisingly, the answer came right away—in a rather relaxed tone.
“I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
He replied to the follow-up just as easily. However, what came out of his mouth wasn’t something Seon-woo could understand right away.
“I was wondering where the blind spots are in your office’s CCTV coverage.”
And what was he planning to do if there were blind spots? Drag someone into a corner and start throwing punches? With a slight scowl between his brows, Seon-woo shot back, his voice tinged with suspicion.
“Why do you want to know that?”
Seung-hyeon responded in a slow, almost languid voice.
“I don’t think it’s something you really want to know.”
The unexpectedly gentle tone made Seon-woo feel oddly self-conscious. He averted his gaze just slightly and answered as naturally as he could, doing his best not to reveal that he’d jumped to his own assumptions about what Seung-hyeon meant.
“…Did you find it?”
Without hesitation, Seung-hyeon replied.
“Yes.”
