Survive! Gwanggong!

Gwak Seon-woo staggered into the company lobby. He made an effort to keep his composure, and perhaps that effort paid off—on the surface, he didn’t appear particularly unsteady. As a result, the people around him who bowed their heads in greeting seemed unaware that anything was amiss.

But he had no energy to respond. Fortunately, since the Gwanggong never bothered replying to greetings even on a normal day, no one found it strange.

‘For now… just get to the director’s office.’

Beyond that, he had no idea what to do. His condition would only improve if his Gwanggong Score increased, but actually figuring out how to raise it left him at a complete loss.

After barely managing to catch the elevator and making his way to his office, his waiting secretary immediately spoke up.

“You’ve arrived.”

“……”

The problem was, Gwak Seon-woo didn’t even have the strength to respond. Holding his head, he silently pushed open the door. His secretary stared at his retreating figure, looking flustered. Apparently, even for someone as detached as him, responding to his secretary had been a given until now.

Unbothered, Seon-woo stepped into the office and sank into his chair. At last, he was free from prying eyes and could collapse as he pleased. He buried his face into his desk and clutched his head, letting out a deep sigh.

At this rate, even functioning in daily life would be impossible. He’d expected some kind of debuff when the system described his condition as an abnormal status, but he hadn’t imagined it would hit him with a migraine this brutal.

Not that he had no idea how to fix it.

The real irony was that knowing the solution only made things worse.

‘…Seo Eun-jae.’

Through the pain, Seon-woo’s thoughts turned to him. Seo Eun-jae was like a cheat code to the system—if he met with him again, he’d surely find a way to raise his Gwanggong Score. But Seon-woo had already sworn that he wouldn’t let himself get tangled up in the system’s manipulations.

That hesitation, however, lasted only a moment.

Resolve or not, if he was going to be bedridden from sheer pain, nothing else mattered.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet. The short rest had helped; the pounding in his head had dulled just a little.

The moment he stepped outside, his secretary hurriedly approached, clearly having waited by the door the entire time. Given how well he knew the Gwanggong, he must have noticed something was off.

“Director, are you feeling unwell? Should I fetch some medicine?”

The thought was considerate, but medicine wouldn’t do a thing. Without a word, Seon-woo brushed past him, barely sparing him a glance.

Any guilt he felt vanished instantly as another sharp stab of pain shot through his skull.

Stumbling, he wandered the halls aimlessly. Going directly to Seo Eun-jae’s office would be too much. Instead, he would have to rely on coincidence—waiting to run into him by chance.

But he didn’t have to wait long.

Before much time had passed, he spotted Seo Eun-jae’s back in the hallway.

Seo Eun-jae, who had been chatting with another employee, finished his conversation and turned around. The moment he spotted Gwak Seon-woo standing just a short distance away, his eyes widened in surprise. It was clear he hadn’t expected to run into him here.

And for good reason.

They had exchanged messages just hours ago, with Seon-woo saying he wouldn’t be available today because of a family gathering.

Through the narrow tunnel of his headache-clouded vision, Seon-woo barely managed to lift his gaze and meet Eun-jae’s eyes. The initial shock on Eun-jae’s face quickly faded as he gave a polite bow.

“Hello, Director. Did your family gathering end already?”

Seon-woo knew he needed to answer. His mind understood that much. But the words simply wouldn’t come out.

Eun-jae’s expression gradually shifted from neutral to puzzled.

“Um… Director?”

“…Yes.”

What barely escaped his lips wasn’t even a proper response. Naturally, Eun-jae’s expression only grew more perplexed. A single syllable—”yes”—was all Seon-woo had managed to say in reply to a direct question. If Eun-jae got annoyed, he would have every right to.

But instead of getting irritated, he cautiously asked, “Are you feeling unwell?”

Seon-woo had been waiting for that question. Yet when it finally came, his mind refused to cooperate.

It took him a moment to force something out.

▶”…It’s nothing.”

▶”……It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

The words he managed to string together weren’t exactly convincing. If anything, the pauses in his speech only made it sound worse—like nothing actually meant something, and don’t worry about it was a desperate plea to please worry about it.

Avoiding Eun-jae’s gaze, he repeated, “……It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

That alone must have made it obvious that something was seriously wrong. Eun-jae seemed to think so too, because he spoke again—this time as if he’d already made up his mind.

“How could I not worry? Director, you’re completely pale… Are you sick?”

“……”

That was exactly what Seon-woo had been waiting to hear. But no matter how much he wanted to just say, My head is killing me, help me, he couldn’t.

If he did, his condition wouldn’t improve—if anything, his Gwanggong Score might drop even further, making things even worse.

When he remained silent, Eun-jae filled in the gaps himself.

“You are sick, aren’t you?”

“……”

“I can go buy some medicine. Oh, actually—I already have some painkillers. Do you want one?”

Seon-woo seriously doubted a painkiller would do anything for this kind of headache. But still, just in case, he wanted to say something like, In that case, I won’t refuse…

But his lips wouldn’t move.

He had expected this.

Barely resisting the urge to clutch his throbbing head, he forced out a single word.

“Forget it.”

From what he had gathered yesterday, Eun-jae was persistent.

“Come on, don’t be like that. If you take some medicine, you might feel better. Should I get you something besides Tylenol? Oh! If you’re feeling nauseous from something you ate at your family gathering, I can grab some digestive medicine. Or if you have a fever…”

Since Gwak Seon-woo remained silent, Seo Eun-jae took it upon himself to keep the conversation going.

Listing off every possible symptom, he continued his barrage of concerned questions—until, at last, he reached the topic of fever. As he spoke, his hand instinctively reached out toward Seon-woo’s forehead.

He was trying to check for a fever.

Seon-woo reacted before he could think. His body jerked backward on reflex.

Eun-jae immediately froze, looking startled, as if he himself hadn’t realized what he was doing until that moment. He hesitated, lips parting slightly, as if about to say something.

But before he could, something else appeared before Seon-woo’s eyes.

▶ (Slap his hand away) “What do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off me.”

▶ (Slap his hand away) “I already told you it’s unnecessary. Get your hands off me.”

▶ (Slap his hand away) “Are you incapable of understanding words? Get your hands off me.”

All three options were more or less the same.

It wasn’t the first time the Gwanggong had acted like this—but it was surprising that the system wanted him to be this rude to Seo Eun-jae of all people.

Still, smacking away the hand of someone who was just trying to help… That gave him a slight pang of guilt.

But guilt had nothing to do with maintaining his Gwanggong Score.

He didn’t hesitate long before swinging his hand.

“I already told you it’s unnecessary. Get your hands off me.”

Instead of picking the mildest option, he went for one that was a bit harsher. He wasn’t sure what the result would be, but the effect was immediate.

< Gwanggong Score +2 >

< Current Gwanggong Score: 50 >

< Status abnormality lifted due to Gwanggong Score recovery. >

Seon-woo’s previously grim expression sharpened as his eyes widened.

He had been about to let out a sigh of relief—until he realized that, even after the notification, the headache still lingered. It had eased somewhat but hadn’t disappeared entirely.

The answer to his confusion followed soon after.

< Status abnormality: Headache will take 3 hours to fully subside. >

……

Not even an instant recovery.

A small sigh escaped him.

But in his focus on the system and his headache, he had overlooked something.

Seo Eun-jae, the person he had just rejected to his face, now looked… hurt.

Seeing that expression made guilt rise in Seon-woo’s chest once again. He had sought Eun-jae out purely for his own gain, then used harsh words to cure his condition. Now, confronted with the consequences, his conscience twisted uncomfortably.

“…I was out of line. I apologize.”

Eun-jae lowered his head as he apologized.

The realization that he had come here with the intent to use Eun-jae—and that he had been the one to throw cold words at someone who had only shown concern—made Seon-woo’s guilt intensify.

“If you’re fine now, I’ll be going. But at least… take some medicine.”

With that, Eun-jae turned away.

Seon-woo couldn’t help but wonder—wasn’t it too soon to be this sentimental after only knowing each other for two days?

Of course, he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

At that moment, another set of options appeared before him.

▶ (Grab Seo Eun-jae’s wrist) “Wait. That’s not what I meant.”

▶ (Grab Seo Eun-jae’s wrist) “I didn’t mean it like that… I’m sorry.”

The situation was difficult to label as either surprising or predictable. On one hand, acting this way didn’t suit his personality in the slightest—but on the other, considering that the person in question was Seo Eun-jae, it made a certain kind of sense.

Regardless, grabbing his wrist felt like something that had to be done.

As Eun-jae turned to leave, Seon-woo reached out from behind and caught his wrist.

Eun-jae’s gaze met his, trembling with a mixture of awkwardness, confusion, and hurt. The sheer intensity of that sentimentality almost made Seon-woo break out in hives, but his mouth faithfully delivered the next line anyway.

“…I didn’t mean it like that… I’m sorry.”

‘You’re not even like this…’

Even though Seon-woo had only been in this situation for two days, he had encountered enough choices to become intimately familiar with the Gwanggong’s personality. Internally, he could only lament in dismay.

Eun-jae’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard. Just as Seon-woo was debating what to do next, another system prompt appeared.

This time, there was only one option.

▶ (Confused) “…Ha. Just go back and take care of your work.”

With only a single choice available, he had no choice but to follow the script.

Feigning confusion, he pressed a hand to his forehead and muttered the prewritten line.

“Tsk… Ha, just go back and take care of your work.”

At those words, Eun-jae hesitated, then—just like Seon-woo had done moments ago—reached out as if to grab his sleeve.

But before he could, Seon-woo swiftly dodged.

Maintaining a confused expression, he turned on his heel and strode away as if in a hurry.

His headache still hadn’t fully subsided, and now, he had managed to create an incredibly awkward tension between them. It left an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but at the very least, he had successfully restored his Gwanggong Score to 50.

That should have been enough.

But the next moment, Seon-woo learned firsthand the bitter truth of the phrase, misfortunes never come alone.

The lingering headache made his legs wobble—and he tripped over his own feet.

The second he realized he had stumbled so disgracefully, his face turned ghostly pale.

< You have tripped over your own feet in an unsightly manner. >

< A Gwanggong must never let his guard down, even when no one is watching. >

< Gwanggong Score -2 >

Disaster.

The moment he saw that the Gwanggong Score he had just recovered had dropped again, his vision darkened.

And the system notifications didn’t stop there.

< Gwanggong Score has fallen below 50. ‘Status Abnormality: Fever’ has been triggered! >

< ‘Status Abnormality: Headache’ side effects have overlapped with ‘Status Abnormality: Fever.’ >

< ‘Status Abnormality: Dizziness’ has also been triggered! Raise your Gwanggong Score to resolve it. >

Ah…

A wave of dizziness hit him like a truck. His knees buckled.

If left alone, he would have collapsed onto the hallway floor then and there.

Had he been alone, he would have.

But just before his legs fully gave out, someone caught him from behind—an arm wrapping around him, holding him up.

His fever was rising, his head was throbbing, and his vision had narrowed so much that he could barely make out his surroundings. But even in his disoriented state, one thing was certain.

Someone was supporting him.

For a moment, he couldn’t quite register what had happened.

Then, as he finally became aware of the hands supporting his back, his eyes widened in shock.

Turning his head, he saw Gwak Seung-hyeon standing there—wearing a completely stunned expression.