Survive! Gwanggong!

The next morning, as soon as Seon-woo opened his eyes, he was greeted by the system that displayed his Gwanggong Score.

He had heard alarms that told the time or radios that announced the day’s weather, but this was a first.

[You have fully recovered thanks to adequate rest. Your current Gwanggong Score is 57.]

The score had increased from what he had heard last night. If his condition had remained the same as yesterday, even a single misstep could have triggered another status ailment. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Gwak Seon-woo pressed his forehead to check his condition. There was no lingering heat, his headache was completely gone, and he didn’t feel dizzy anymore. He was, in every way, perfectly healthy.

As he was about to get out of bed, he noticed that his suit was missing its jacket. The drawers he had overturned yesterday were back in their original positions, and the bedside mood lamp—probably broken—was neatly placed on top. The floor, which had been a mess, was spotless.

“Did he clean up before leaving…?”

Unless he had suddenly developed the habit of throwing off his outerwear in his sleep, this was undoubtedly Gwak Seung-hyeon’s doing. The thought of Seung-hyeon tidying up the chaos, stripping off the jacket of the person who had caused the ruckus, and then leaving made Seon-woo let out a dry laugh.

He must have been completely dumbfounded.

Even Seon-woo found it absurd. Sure, he himself had acted ridiculously, but Gwak Seung-hyeon wasn’t exactly normal either.

Out of habit, he checked his phone. The time read 8:30 AM, and a message icon sat at the top of the screen. He wouldn’t make it to work on time, but that didn’t matter—he had the freedom to come and go as he pleased. What piqued his curiosity more was the sender of the message.

[Did something happen yesterday? Did you get home safely?]

It was from Seo Eun-jae. A simple message, just checking in about yesterday. Nothing particularly special.

And yet, it was enough to make Gwak Seon-woo hesitate.

The incident with Gwak Seung-hyeon had been so overwhelming that he had almost forgotten—he hadn’t only been rude to Seung-hyeon. Seo Eun-jae had also been on the receiving end of his nonsense. He had shown up unannounced, pulled a whole spectacle, lashed out at someone who was only concerned about him, then brooded for a moment before running off as if fleeing the scene.

The Gwanggong was supposedly a character who lived without emotions until he met Seo Eun-jae, the first person to stir something in him. If he considered that, his behavior made sense in context.

But for someone like Seon-woo—who was far removed from any kind of melodramatic sentiment—it just felt like he had performed a one-man show, banging the drum and cymbals all by himself, only to make a dramatic exit.

It was clear that he needed to explain himself, whether through an apology or an excuse. And for that, he would have to reply.

The problem was… he really didn’t feel like doing it.

Gwak Seon-woo wanted to avoid both Seo Eun-jae and Gwak Seung-hyeon as much as possible.

He had no interest in playing out a passionate love story with Seo Eun-jae like in the original work, nor did he want to get into even worse fights with Gwak Seung-hyeon, who was supposed to be his romantic rival in that process. Truthfully, Seon-woo thought Seung-hyeon was a decent person. But that didn’t mean he had any desire to get closer to him. Especially not after what happened last night.

Unfortunately, having landed in the middle of this tangled mess of a romantic drama game, avoiding them completely was impossible. Even so, Seon-woo had no intention of actively contributing to the nauseatingly sweet atmosphere himself.

After a long deliberation, he ultimately chose not to reply and simply closed his phone screen.

“We’ll run into each other soon enough anyway.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

***

He ran into Seo Eun-jae in front of the elevators, right past the company lobby.

It was the same place where he had encountered Gwak Seung-hyeon last time. For some reason, every time he came here, there wasn’t a single other person around except for him and whoever he was supposed to meet.

Eun-jae stood there, a coffee in one hand and a phone in the other. He hadn’t taken a single sip of the coffee, his eyes glued to the screen. It looked like he was reading the news.

If there had been more people around, Seon-woo could have pretended not to see him and just walked past. But with no one else in sight, ignoring him now would only make his presence more obvious.

And if he went out of his way to take a different route just to avoid him, that would be too unbecoming of a Gwanggong, and his score would likely take a hit.

In the end, he had no choice but to say something.

“Seo Eun-jae.”

After an awkward silence, Gwak Seon-woo finally called out his name. There was clear reluctance in his voice, though outwardly it only came off as dry and indifferent—his true feelings well hidden.

“…?”

Seo Eun-jae instinctively turned his head, and upon recognizing Seon-woo, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Director.”

They worked at the same company, so was there really a need for such a startled reaction?

His shock seemed excessive for something as simple as running into each other unexpectedly. Seon-woo stared back at him with an expressionless face, betraying no reaction.

His gaze drifted slightly, and without thinking, he caught a glimpse of Eun-jae’s phone screen. He hadn’t intended to check what was on it, and he didn’t get a clear look, but at the very least, he could tell it wasn’t the news—it was a messaging app.

It had nothing to do with their situation, but for some reason, the thought crossed his mind: ‘So, he wasn’t reading the news after all.’

Seo Eun-jae must have noticed where Seon-woo’s eyes had landed, because he quickly locked his screen and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Ah, you came to work… Well, of course you did, haha. I guess I was just startled because you called me from behind.”

It sounded almost like an excuse.

Seon-woo had braced himself for the awkwardness of initiating the conversation, but Eun-jae’s flustered reaction actually made him feel a little more at ease.

With the arrogance befitting a Gwanggong, Seon-woo responded casually.

“I saw you.”

With an awkward smile, Seo Eun-jae muttered, “I see…” before trailing off. When Seon-woo didn’t say anything else, Eun-jae hesitated, clearly trying to come up with something to fill the silence.

In truth, Seon-woo himself wasn’t sure how to steer the conversation either. So he didn’t mind letting Eun-jae take the lead in finding a topic.

“Ah, um…”

“…”

“Oh, right. Did you get home okay yesterday? You didn’t seem well… Did you take any medicine?”

It sounded as if the thought had just occurred to him, but Seon-woo doubted that was actually the case. It was more likely that Eun-jae had been concerned all along and was just now seizing the opportunity to ask.

“Something like that happened.”

Seon-woo responded curtly.

Again, Eun-jae replied with a quiet, “I see,” as if talking to himself.

A brief silence followed, suggesting that Eun-jae was waiting for him to continue. After a short hesitation, Seon-woo decided to oblige.

“I wasn’t feeling great, but it wasn’t bad enough to need medicine. I’m fine now.”

He couldn’t help but feel that the conversation was making him sound rather pathetic. A part of him worried that the system might suddenly pop up with a [Your Gwanggong Score has decreased.] notification, but thankfully, nothing of the sort happened.

It really was easier talking to Seo Eun-jae.

“That’s a relief. I was worried something might’ve happened.”

As Seon-woo had noticed before, Seo Eun-jae’s smile was effortlessly pleasant. It was the kind of expression that naturally put people at ease, and Seon-woo could acknowledge that much.

Which only made him feel even more guilty.

He had always considered himself someone who lived with a clear conscience, but ever since becoming the Gwanggong, he seemed to have an endless list of things to feel bad about.

If it were up to him, he would’ve just said, “Nothing happened. Well then, I’ll be on my way.” and walked off.

But that lingering guilt toward a genuinely kind person held him back.

In the end, he decided to apologize.

“About yesterday—”

As if in response to his decision, the system suddenly presented him with a set of choices.

“First choice of the day, huh.”

▶ “I’m sorry. Ha… I don’t even know why I act this way around you.”

▶ “I believe I was out of line. I must have been more irritable than usual.”

Seon-woo read both options carefully and thought to himself,

“The first one is way too much, isn’t it?”

The system had a habit of sneaking in these ridiculously dramatic choices, hoping he would take the bait. If he picked that one, the atmosphere would get uncomfortably intense.

Not to mention, wouldn’t Seo Eun-jae be completely put off if he suddenly blurted out something like that? It might even backfire and create an awkwardly serious situation. If that happened, he’d be lucky if his Gwanggong Score didn’t drop.

Naturally, Seon-woo went with the second choice.

“I believe I was out of line. I must have been more irritable than usual.”

Even though he had chosen it to avoid the first option, he found himself quite satisfied with the response.

It had just the right touch of aloofness, offering an explanation without outright apologizing.

Something about it felt very chaebol-like.

Of course, if he were speaking to anyone other than Seo Eun-jae, the system might have flagged it as “Not Gwanggong Enough” and forced him to pick something else.

It wasn’t even a proper apology, but Seo Eun-jae still looked utterly shocked.

‘Was my apology really that surprising?’

…Yeah, it probably was.

Realizing that, Seon-woo quickly accepted it and fell silent, waiting for Eun-jae’s response.

But for some reason, Eun-jae remained completely speechless, as if too stunned to say anything at all.

Feeling awkward, Seon-woo averted his gaze and spoke.

“You may go now. It seems time is up.”

If Eun-jae ended up being late to the office and got scolded for it, Seon-woo would only feel guiltier.

He fully turned away, ready to leave first—

“Wait.”

Seo Eun-jae suddenly grabbed his wrist.