Survive! Gwanggong!

“If that’s the case, then I guess it makes sense.”

Watching Seung-hyeon nod in understanding at such a half-baked excuse, Seon-woo suddenly understood why drama writers were so obsessed with amnesia plots. It must be so damn convenient—just sweep all the messy, inexplicable developments under the rug with a single line: He lost his memory. No need to explain, just let the trope carry it. It was in that moment Seon-woo found himself silently nodding in agreement: There’s a reason clichés are clichés.

After listening intently to Seon-woo’s awkward, self-constructed soap opera with a completely serious expression, Seung-hyeon finally spoke up once it was over.

“Let me try to sum this up.”

Seon-woo gave a slight nod to show he was listening. With that, Seung-hyeon continued.

“So, what you’re saying is… your memory’s been a little hazy lately, but it’s not like you’ve forgotten everything. Just… fragmented bits here and there, right?”

“……Yeah, that’s right.”

Seon-woo averted his eyes, suddenly feeling the full weight of how ridiculous his excuse really sounded. Thankfully, Seung-hyeon didn’t seem particularly suspicious about the truthfulness of it all—even after noticing Seon-woo avoiding his gaze. Maybe he was thinking something like, Well, with a pride like his, saying this out loud must be humiliating. He just nodded slowly, as if he understood.

“So then… the things that happened between us, or the reason why you hated me so much before—those are all kind of fuzzy for you now too, huh?”

“Yeah… well, basically.”

Saying this out loud made him feel like a complete idiot. If the real Gwanggong Gwak Seon-woo—the true owner of this body—were here to witness this scene, he probably would’ve punched him square in the face. But Seung-hyeon, for his part, still looked entirely serious.

“And yet, even without knowing the reason, you instinctively hated me, so you acted hostile anyway.”

Seon-woo couldn’t bring himself to respond to that. After all, he wasn’t the real Gwanggong. And nodding along to the idea that he just hated Seung-hyeon, without any justification, made him feel too guilty. Thankfully, Seung-hyeon picked up on it and continued on his own.

“I’ll just take it like that. It’s fine.”

Whether he was just emotionally resilient enough not to care if someone hated him, or maybe he also didn’t like Gwak Seon-woo that much either and didn’t really mind being disliked—Seon-woo wasn’t quite sure. But either way, that indifferent, unfazed attitude was… kind of impressive.

“So, bottom line—your instincts still tell you to dislike me, but since you can’t actually remember why, it’s not as intense as before… something like that, right?”

“…….”

“Got it.”

With calm finality, Seung-hyeon wrapped up the summary. Seon-woo let out a quiet sigh and turned his head to the side. Seung-hyeon, who had been dead serious this whole time, now seemed visibly more relaxed, like he’d finally made sense of everything in his head. Then, in a much lighter tone, he said:

“I’ll help you.”

It was kind of surreal that this was the conclusion he’d come to after thinking it through so seriously. The person who had been tormented and despised was now offering to help the one who hated him, simply because that person had lost their memory.

Rather than thinking it was touching… wouldn’t your first reaction be to laugh a little? Or at least think it’s kind of funny?

Of course, Seon-woo himself had never experienced anything like that, so he couldn’t say for certain. Still, Seung-hyeon’s reaction did catch him off guard. That said, considering he didn’t actually know anything for sure, and the system kept screwing him over with zero cooperation, Seung-hyeon’s help would honestly be a huge asset right now.

“Who’s helping who, exactly?”

Even while thinking that, this was all he could manage to say out loud—and the sheer pettiness of it frustrated him.

At this point, it seemed like Seung-hyeon had started treating Seon-woo’s snide remarks as little more than background noise. Not that it was surprising, really—especially since Seon-woo had just said something along the lines of ‘I don’t remember why I hate you, but I still hate you instinctively.’ Anyone in Seung-hyeon’s shoes would probably draw the same conclusion. Honestly, Seon-woo preferred it this way. Better to have Seung-hyeon shrug it off than take every word like it was laced with 100% malice.

“Then let me rephrase it—please allow me to help you.”

Seung-hyeon quickly adjusted his wording in response to Seon-woo’s sharp tone. Why he was going so far, Seon-woo couldn’t begin to guess—but among all the possible replies, the best he could manage in this situation was a begrudging, “Fine.” He gave a reluctant nod.

***

As Seon-woo recalled that exchange, he found himself glancing over at Seung-hyeon’s face. The two of them stood before the painting with Eun-jae between them. Eun-jae had looked startled at first when Seung-hyeon showed up, but seemed to accept it pretty quickly and was now once again focused on appreciating the artwork.

Unlike Seon-woo, who didn’t know the first thing about art, Seung-hyeon actually seemed genuinely interested. Maybe Eun-jae was aware of that, because he had struck up a conversation about the painting they’d just seen. Seung-hyeon responded effortlessly, and just like that, the two were deep in a thoughtful discussion.

Watching them hold a serious debate over some abstract piece he couldn’t make heads or tails of, Seon-woo quickly lost interest and drifted into his own thoughts again. Not that his thoughts were any more exciting—these days, his mind just kept circling the same frustrating question: How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?

Perhaps noticing his bored expression, Eun-jae suddenly paused mid-sentence and turned to him.

“Ah… Director, are you maybe getting bored? You’re probably not very interested in this kind of thing, huh?”

“Yeah, not really.”

He nodded without giving it much thought. But Eun-jae suddenly looked like he’d said something terribly inappropriate.

“I-I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Eun-jae hastily tried to explain himself, and Seon-woo turned his head in surprise. Seeing that flustered expression only made him more confused. He didn’t quite get why Eun-jae was trying so hard to smooth things over—until a certain comment from Choi Kyung-sook popped into his mind.

She’d just insulted him earlier by saying he wasn’t the kind of person who’d be interested in art. Maybe hearing himself say something similar had triggered the same association in Eun-jae. No wonder he got flustered.

Seon-woo let out a short laugh.

“You’re acting like a comment like that would actually hurt my feelings.”

Eun-jae, who had been mid-explanation, suddenly wore a dazed, blank expression. It was the second time Seon-woo had seen that look today, though he couldn’t quite remember when exactly he’d seen it earlier.

As he tried to retrace his memories to solve the déjà vu, Seon-woo quickly gave up on pinpointing the exact moment. Instead, he opened his mouth as if to change the subject.

“I think it’s about time I headed out. Are you planning to look around a bit more, Seo Eun-jae?”

He was hoping to quietly slip away now, but Eun-jae lit up and responded eagerly.

“Ah, I’m heading back now too!”

He didn’t show it outwardly, but Seon-woo felt a sudden tightness in his chest at the thought that they might end up going back together again. It wasn’t that he disliked being with Eun-jae. On the contrary, Eun-jae had become a rare beam of light in the suffocating daily grind of his Gwanggong life, where he didn’t even have time to eat properly.

The problem was, if they returned home together, the system would likely force another round of embarrassing, awkward events upon them. If it was a situation he had to face anyway, then fine—he’d deal with it when it came. But when he wanted to rest, he wanted to rest. And right now was one of those moments.

▶ “Then let’s head out together. I’ll give you a ride.”

▶ “Just come with me. I’ll drive you.”

As expected, two options popped up—both exactly the kind of choices he’d been dreading. Neither was appealing, but just as he was about to reluctantly pick one…

“Come with me, Mr. Seo. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Seung-hyeon said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Seon-woo blinked in surprise and turned to look at him. But it wasn’t just Seon-woo who was caught off guard—Eun-jae’s voice was laced with obvious confusion.

“Huh? You, Team Leader?”

His tone sounded not just surprised but borderline baffled. Honestly, Seon-woo didn’t think it was that shocking. If you were picking the person Eun-jae was closer to, it would obviously be Seung-hyeon—their team leader—rather than Seon-woo, whom he’d only met a few days ago. Still, something about Eun-jae’s reaction didn’t quite add up.

“Of course. I brought you here, so it makes sense I should take you back.”

“I mean…”

Seung-hyeon replied without missing a beat. Eun-jae looked like he was about to say something, then hesitated and glanced around. In the distance, Gwak Su-won and Choi Kyung-sook were within view—clearly, Eun-jae was being mindful of them. Since they had already agreed earlier to the story that Seung-hyeon had brought him here, it wasn’t like Eun-jae could suddenly contradict that now.

In the end, Eun-jae replied with an awkward expression.

“…Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With a hint of regret, Eun-jae turned to glance at Seon-woo. Seon-woo coughed a couple of times and deliberately looked away. He wasn’t exactly sure why Seung-hyeon had offered to drive Eun-jae home, but he had no intention of stopping him.

As Seung-hyeon gave a cheerful goodbye and led Eun-jae away, a new prompt appeared before Seon-woo’s eyes:

▶ Chase after them and grab Seo Eun-jae by the wrist.

▶ Watch the two of them walk away with a displeased look on your face.

Naturally, Seon-woo chose the second option. The system had clearly wanted him to go with the first, but if he obediently played along with its plans, it would only lead to a painfully exhausting situation. Too many eyes were watching—and two of them belonged to his least favorite relatives.

In the end, all Seon-woo could do was glare at the backs of Eun-jae and Seung-hyeon as the latter led him out. Only after the pair had completely disappeared from view did he finally turn his head. And the moment his gaze shifted, it landed on none other than Gwak Su-won and Choi Kyung-sook.

Gwak Su-won was still fiddling with a handkerchief, chuckling as always, while Choi Kyung-sook wore a sour expression of disapproval.

Seon-woo slowly began walking toward them. He needed to at least say goodbye before making his own exit. As he approached, he could clearly hear Choi Kyung-sook muttering under her breath.

“Told you it was a mistake marrying into that family… a total mistake…”

She was pretending to mumble to herself, but the way she projected her voice made it obvious that the comment was meant to be heard. Gwak Su-won pressed a hand to his forehead with a helpless look, though Seon-woo couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just for show.

Pretending not to notice or hear any of it, Seon-woo kept his composure and offered a polite farewell.

“I’ll be heading out now.”

Even though she must’ve known he was approaching, Choi Kyung-sook deliberately kept looking elsewhere until he spoke. Only then did she finally turn her eyes, giving the slightest nod in return—barely acknowledging his presence.

Gwak Su-won stepped in with an awkward smile.

“Right, get home safe. We’ll see each other again soon.”

“Yes.”

Seon-woo answered without missing a beat, though inwardly he was thinking the exact opposite—hopefully, not for a long time.