Survive! Gwanggong!

Gwak Seon-woo walked toward Seung-hyeon, the system notification serving as background music. Gwak Seung-hyeon glanced between the overturned dresser, the mood lamp lying on the floor, and the shattered phone against the wall. His expression shifted from bewilderment to outright disbelief. He seemed unsure how to process Seon-woo’s sudden outburst.

Still holding the tray in his hands, Seung-hyeon tilted his head slightly, looking troubled. His face said he had no idea what was happening or why Seon-woo was acting like this. But for now, he chose to calmly dissuade him.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up.”

Even now, the system didn’t seem to like Gwak Seung-hyeon. Was the lack of reaction to his words why the Gwanggong Score hadn’t changed? Seon-woo could hear the resentful suggestion whispering in his ear, but he didn’t throw a punch at Seung-hyeon’s face. Instead, he spoke in a dry, flat voice.

“If you had just left when I told you to, you wouldn’t have to see this mess.”

He didn’t shout or openly display his anger. That only made his words feel colder. As the unfamiliar sarcasm left his lips, Seon-woo smirked faintly. Seung-hyeon, expressionless as ever, answered in a calm voice.

“You’re right.”

That composed tone made Seon-woo feel something complicated. The Gwanggong Score had gone up every time he did something awful in front of Gwak Seung-hyeon, but it never left him feeling satisfied—just increasingly uneasy.

Still, his score had recovered to a certain extent. Now, all he had to do was drive Seung-hyeon out, cause a bit more trouble, and once he hit a score of 50, he could sleep until he fully recovered.

“This is my last warning. You’ve done enough. Now leave.”

“…Understood.”

At the sound of Seon-woo’s exhausted voice, Seung-hyeon finally relented. His response was smooth, unshaken. And then, in the same unwavering tone, he added,

“I’ll leave the porridge here. You should at least eat something.”

Was it resilience or just sheer stubbornness? Either way, Seon-woo found himself oddly reassured by it. The porridge Seung-hyeon had gone through the trouble of making would go to waste, but he wouldn’t be able to eat it anyway. Still, the effort was… commendable.

Somewhere between appreciating that human kindness and adhering to the conditions of the Gwanggong system, Seon-woo reached a compromise in his mind—he would simply acknowledge it and tell Seung-hyeon to leave. That was all.

That was what he intended to do.

But instead of words, his hand moved on its own.

No.

Seon-woo’s eyes widened in horror as he watched his hand reach toward Seung-hyeon.

Not this. Anything but this!

Completely ignoring his internal protests, his hand swiped the tray out of Seung-hyeon’s grasp.

The porridge spilled onto the floor. The overturned bowl, whether it was plastic made to look like glass or tempered glass itself, didn’t shatter—just pitifully tipped over.

Gwak Seon-woo wasn’t particularly passionate about food, but as a Korean, he still believed that a solid meal was the foundation of everything. This was a country where people greeted each other with “Have you eaten?” instead of a simple hello, and parted ways with “Let’s grab a meal sometime.” And yet, here he was, treating someone offering him food like absolute trash. No, it was worse than just poor treatment—this was outright rejecting kindness in the most insulting way possible.

The first time, he had thrown a sandwich into the trash. Now, he had knocked over a bowl of porridge. Back then, even someone as mild-mannered as Gwak Seung-hyeon had stiffened with anger at the sight of the sandwich being discarded. If anything, this would probably make him even angrier.

It was an absurd situation. Even without the whole love triangle involving Seo Eun-jae, the original Gwanggong seemed to have a strong dislike for Gwak Seung-hyeon. Typically, in romance novels or dramas, the main male lead and the secondary male lead would clash because of their relationship with the heroine. Seon-woo had never read a BL novel before, but he figured the dynamic between the main gong and the sub-gong wouldn’t be all that different.

But his situation with Seung-hyeon wasn’t even about that. There was no real progress between him and Eun-jae yet—hell, there wasn’t even any meaningful emotional exchange. They had only met a day ago. And Seung-hyeon? Instead of lingering around Eun-jae with the wistful presence of a devoted secondary male lead, he was just stuck taking care of a sick and irritable Gwanggong, only to be met with mistreatment at every turn.

This wasn’t some typical main gong versus sub-gong rivalry. If anything… the whole setup felt more like Kongji and Patji, or Cinderella and her stepsister.

Seon-woo sighed and pressed his fingers against his forehead. His fever still burned like fire, but the mental toll was even worse. Yet another item to add to the list of Things I Feel Guilty About Concerning Gwak Seung-hyeon. He felt more like an outright villain than even Patji. But still, if this finally got Seung-hyeon to leave, then maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t entirely a bad thing…

And yet, Seung-hyeon said,

“That’s a relief. I made extra just in case something like this happened.”

Seon-woo felt his strength drain out of him. He was so dumbfounded he could barely process it.

What the hell is this guy thinking?

Are you not even a little bit mad? Huh? Seung-hyeon, are you a saint or something?!

His inner monologue was basically the same as how he talked to his younger brother, whom he had known for over ten years. Meanwhile, Seung-hyeon, unfazed as ever, continued.

“I also made sure to bring a bowl that wouldn’t break, just in case.”

“……”

Seon-woo didn’t reply. He just stared at Seung-hyeon’s face. His sheer disbelief was so overwhelming that, for a moment, he forgot about his fever, his headache, and even the dizziness that had been plaguing him.

Is this what they meant when they said Patji could never understand Kongji?

What kind of person is this…?

Because of Seung-hyeon’s unwavering composure, Seon-woo wasn’t exuding much of his supposed “Gwanggong” energy. As a result, the points he had worked so hard to gain had dropped again. Based on everything he had done so far—losing points, gaining them, and losing them again—he figured he should have already passed 50 by now. But since no notification had appeared, something must have gone wrong with his calculations.

Logically, he knew Seung-hyeon had done nothing wrong. But with everything spiraling out of control, he felt like he might just end up lashing out at him anyway.

Instead of shouting, Seon-woo turned away. Then, he kicked the collapsed dresser. The drawers, which had already been halfway open, rattled violently.

To be completely honest… it hurt. A lot.

But he kept his expression perfectly neutral. If he clutched his foot in pain after losing his temper like that, he wouldn’t look like a Gwanggong—just some idiot with anger issues.

He stomped and kicked at the scattered objects from the dresser, making a full mess of the room. If anyone else had done this, it would have looked pathetic, but with his face, even such a chaotic display carried a sort of raw elegance.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Seung-hyeon said, his voice tinged with concern.

“You.”

The moment Seung-hyeon spoke, Seon-woo’s mouth moved on its own again. His vision blurred from the dizziness that had suddenly intensified. His head felt like it was boiling, maybe from all the rage.

▶ Is servitude hereditary, or is a son still a son even without shared blood…?

He barely registered the choice. His lips moved before he could even read it properly. He couldn’t see what he was saying, but he knew it was something awful.

And yet—

“You’re right,” Seung-hyeon answered, just as calmly as before.

<5 hours remaining until full recovery.>

The system notifications overlapped, drowning out Seung-hyeon’s response.

The tension drained from Seon-woo all at once. He clutched his forehead as he staggered toward the bed and collapsed onto it.

He didn’t see what kind of expression Seung-hyeon was making behind him. He didn’t have the energy to check. His head still swam with fever and dizziness, but it wasn’t as unbearable as before. Now, all the exhaustion that had built up came crashing down at once.

Half-asleep, Seon-woo murmured something—he wasn’t even sure if it was in a dream or reality.

“This… wasn’t what I meant to do…”

“……I see.”

“You don’t have to understand… but… I’m sorry…”

His words trailed off, slurred by drowsiness.

He never got to finish. Sleep swallowed him whole.

Whether it was a relief or a mistake that he never saw Seung-hyeon’s face in that moment—he would never know.