In the end, it seemed the score had finally dropped below the threshold. The penalty that was supposedly going to be imposed had now been revealed. But fever? Was that supposed to mean his body would start heating up like an overheated battery?
Still, there wasn’t much time to dwell on what that actually meant. Even before he could finish the thought, his vision blurred and his face flushed hot. It happened in the blink of an eye.
The gasp he let out wasn’t loud—at least, he thought it wasn’t. Maybe, just maybe, he could hide it. But that hope didn’t last long. Seon-woo had immediately picked up on Seung-hyeon’s unusual state. He had just opened the driver’s door and was halfway out of the car when he abruptly turned back and slammed the door shut.
“What’s wrong?”
Seung-hyeon couldn’t even respond right away. He was usually healthy and rarely got sick, but it wasn’t like he’d never had a fever in his life. Anyone would know that fevers weren’t supposed to come on like this. In just a few minutes—or no, not even a full minute—his entire body felt like it was burning up.
Seon-woo, visibly puzzled by Seung-hyeon’s condition, cautiously reached out. The moment his hand touched Seung-hyeon’s forehead, he recoiled in shock, his face instantly hardening.
Even without a thermometer, it was obvious his temperature was at least 39°C (102.2°F), if not higher. Seon-woo’s expression twisted in concern the moment he confirmed it.
“Look at you, you’re—”
“Ah…”
“…Damn it, how did I not notice this right away…”
The second he realized what was happening, Seon-woo’s face contorted with frustration—not at Seung-hyeon, but at himself for failing to catch the signs earlier.
“It’s okay, Director… I was fine just a moment ago.”
It might’ve sounded unbelievable, but it was true. Still, in his current state, it was nearly impossible for Seung-hyeon to explain himself all the way through.
They had already arrived at the parking garage, and while part of him thought it’d be best to just push through and get upstairs to his apartment, his body wasn’t cooperating. Instead, acting on instinct, Seung-hyeon reached out for Seon-woo, tugged on his wrist, and buried his face in his palm.
“…I can’t breathe properly…”
Watching Seung-hyeon struggle for breath, Seon-woo’s expression hardened into something close to fear. He shoved the car key back into the ignition and turned it. As the engine sputtered to life with a low rumble, Seon-woo spoke.
“Hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”
“It’s not that…”
Still breathless, Seung-hyeon leaned into Seon-woo’s shoulder. To Seon-woo, it probably sounded like nonsense—just delirious rambling—but Seung-hyeon was serious. He knew, somehow, that going to the hospital wouldn’t help. He could feel it in his bones.
Seung-hyeon looked up and locked eyes with Seon-woo.
“If you kiss me… I think I’ll feel better.”
“That’s not even remotely—”
“I want to kiss you.”
It was a low, whispered voice. Seung-hyeon’s face was buried in Seon-woo’s chest, and it felt cool—no, more precisely, it was Seung-hyeon’s body that was so hot it made Seon-woo feel cold to the touch. Anyone would know just by feeling the temperature radiating from him. This wasn’t normal. His eyes, half-lidded as they stared straight at Seon-woo, were already glazed over.
With a tense expression, Seon-woo pressed his hand against Seung-hyeon’s forehead. His brow furrowed at the searing heat, but Seung-hyeon kept pleading.
“Just once is enough.”
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 3.>
<Gwanggongs do not beg others for a kiss…>
The system’s voice sounded faint now, like it was echoing from far away.
Seung-hyeon had already lost control of himself. He knew it too. If he’d been in his right mind, he never would’ve asked Seon-woo for a kiss while burning up with fever. He wouldn’t risk passing it to him.
Seon-woo hesitated, looking down at Seung-hyeon with conflicted eyes. Anyone else would’ve dismissed his words and driven off without a second thought—so why was he hesitating? Did he trust Seung-hyeon?
There was no way to know for sure. All Seung-hyeon could see was the expression on Seon-woo’s face, as if he’d made up his mind. With fingers that felt cool against his burning skin, Seon-woo brushed back the hair sticking to Seung-hyeon’s forehead, then leaned down.
Their lips met.
Seung-hyeon was the only one who closed his eyes. Seon-woo kept his open, still watching Seung-hyeon’s flushed face closely, monitoring him even now.
His mouth was hot—so hot it made Seon-woo wonder if he might actually get burned. It didn’t even feel like a kiss anymore; it felt more like a ritual to cool him down. The transfer of saliva from mouth to mouth—could that even be called a kiss?
But that was only how Seon-woo saw it.
When their lips finally parted, Seung-hyeon gazed up at him with a face filled with satisfaction—more than he’d ever shown before. He looked dazed, out of it, like he was floating.
Then, slowly, Seung-hyeon bent down toward Seon-woo’s thighs. His hands, hot and deliberate, undid the buckle of his belt. Seon-woo’s eyes widened, completely unprepared for this turn of events, and he quickly pulled Seung-hyeon’s hand away. His touch was easily deflected, but it wasn’t over.
Still restrained by Seon-woo’s hand, Seung-hyeon lowered his head again—this time using his teeth to pull down the zipper of Seon-woo’s pants.
The last thing Seon-woo saw was Seung-hyeon’s smiling eyes as they curved into a playful expression. Then, half-risen, Seon-woo’s cock disappeared into the heat of Seung-hyeon’s mouth. His tongue, still burning hot, enveloped him and tightened like it was trying to draw him in even deeper. That tongue, blazing with heat, wrapped wetly around the tip and began to suck, pressing and circling slowly.
A sharp ache spread through Seon-woo’s lower abdomen, and the base of his skull tensed.
“Ah… please… stop…”
The words escaped Seon-woo’s lips like a plea. But not for Seung-hyeon’s sake.
It was because the urge to grab his hair and thrust was overwhelming.
However, no matter how far gone Gwak Seung-hyeon was, Seon-woo couldn’t possibly bring himself to do something that despicable to him.
Biting his lower lip to suppress his arousal, Seon-woo gently cradled Seung-hyeon’s head. He resisted the urge to thrust into that heat and instead tried to push him away. But this time, Seung-hyeon didn’t back off so easily. Where was he even drawing this strength from in his condition? Or maybe—it was precisely because he was feverish that he could act this way.
Seung-hyeon began to suck even more audibly, as if on purpose, then shifted one hand to his own belt, unbuckling it before pulling out his own cock from inside his tight boxer briefs. There wasn’t a shred of embarrassment on his face as he openly began to jerk himself off. Watching Gwak Seung-hyeon suck him while getting himself off was an exercise in extreme self-restraint. Even Seon-woo found it difficult to keep control of his actions or thoughts.
Just when he thought he couldn’t get any harder, Seon-woo’s cock swelled even more, leaking clear precum from the tip. Seung-hyeon’s cock, similarly flushed and erect, throbbed eagerly in his own hand, making a wet slapping sound with each stroke. The relentless heat and visual stimulation pushed Seon-woo closer to the edge with alarming speed.
Whether it was the fever or arousal—or both—Seung-hyeon’s cock seemed even redder than usual, the tip flushed and dripping with translucent fluid. The moment Seon-woo laid eyes on it, an almost reflexive itch flared in his gut. Just as overwhelming as the urge to thrust into Seung-hyeon’s mouth was… the urge to take him in.
At last, the moans Seon-woo had been holding back slipped from his lips.
“Ah—ngh… ha… fuck…”
The sounds reached Seung-hyeon’s ears and only aroused him further.
<Gwanggong Score has decreased by 6.>
<Gwanggongs do not serve others.>
The problem was… Seung-hyeon could still hear the system notifications. Score, score. Gwanggongs, Gwanggongs…—but none of it mattered anymore. The voice faded into meaningless background noise.
The only thing that held Seung-hyeon’s attention now was Seon-woo.
“Wait… ngh, haah… Gwak… Seung-hyeon…”
Seon-woo’s voice broke up, the syllables of Seung-hyeon’s name falling from his mouth in shivering gasps. When Seung-hyeon paused and lifted his eyes, Seon-woo gently stroked his hair and murmured:
“Take your mouth off. I’m gonna…”
His gaze was fogged with pleasure, clearly on the verge. And in that moment, a strange premonition swept through Seung-hyeon.
If Seon-woo came in his mouth—the system would do something. He didn’t know what, but the unease gripped him. And yet, despite that instinct, his throat tightened again around Seon-woo, refusing to let go. It wasn’t a conscious choice—it was something deeper. Something closer to instinct.
<Gwanggongs… do not…!>
The system’s voice came through, but clipped and unclear—like static.
Seung-hyeon paused briefly, then slowly lifted his head. Not because of the voice. But because he saw Seon-woo’s thighs trembling uncontrollably right in front of his eyes.
It was the trembling in Seon-woo’s thighs that caught his eye.
At that, Seon-woo finally gasped for breath, slumping back against the seat as if he’d barely survived something.
<……>
<System error detected……>
<Initiating system reset.>
Wasn’t this the same warning he’d already heard earlier that morning? Thinking about what happened after that warning, he felt less tense and more resigned. Rather than alarm, it drew out a sigh. Warnings aside, the heat in his head was so intense it felt like his brain might melt. Gwak Seung-hyeon let out a ragged breath and placed a hand on Seon-woo’s leg.
He was about to continue exactly what he’d been doing, system voice be damned, when—
<System reset failed.>
<Rechecking error……>
<……>
The dry, mechanical voice made him falter.
<Player error detected.>
<A critical bug has been discovered in the system.>
This was clearly different from the morning. Seung-hyeon furrowed his brow and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He felt like he needed to snap out of it—fast.
<Auto-shutdown in 5. 4. 3…>
