NOVEL NEXT WORLD 22
The machine continued playing the background music endlessly.
In the midst of this irrevocably awkward atmosphere, Seung-hyeon discreetly pressed the cancel button.
Still under the “Silent Meditation” status effect, unable to utter a single word, Seon-woo sat there, struggling to maintain a neutral expression.
Eun-jae, sensing the tension in the air, stood up—perhaps hoping to somehow revive this trainwreck of a situation.
“Uh, then… I’ll sing the next song.”
After sneaking a glance in Seon-woo’s direction, Eun-jae picked a popular girl group hit.
Considering how brutally the previous performance had just been rejected, this was undeniably a bold choice. Of course, the performer had now changed from “a coworker of Seo Eun-jae, the man who might soon become a groom” to Seo Eun-jae himself, so naturally the system’s response would differ.
And Eun-jae’s decision wasn’t made blindly—it was a courage backed by some reasoning. He didn’t sing like a professional vocalist, but his pitch was on point. Except for a slight stumble during the intro, his sense of rhythm was decent too. Most importantly, he had a knack for livening up the mood.
As Eun-jae sang, he smoothly slipped in a few highlight dance moves. The other coworkers responded with tambourines, cheering him on. Though they occasionally glanced at Seon-woo, as if still shaken by the recent flying ashtray incident, the room was no longer frozen in that initial icy silence.
Eun-jae chirped out lyrics like “I only see you” and “I’m falling in love for the first time” with a bubbly charm, wrapping up the performance with a finger-gun flourish.
For a man in his late twenties working a desk job, it was quite the groundbreaking stage. On one hand, seeing him shamelessly belt out idol lyrics with a straight face stirred something bittersweet—proof, perhaps, of how grueling adulthood and office life really were.
After wrapping up his performance, Eun-jae returned to his seat beside Seon-woo and asked,
“Was it really that bad?”
Still unable to speak due to the lingering effect, Seon-woo simply shook his head.
“Then… was it okay?”
He clearly wasn’t aiming to debut as a dance singer, and yet he was probing for feedback with relentless persistence—it seemed Eun-jae was eager to hear some kind of praise from Gwak Seon-woo.
Unfortunately, Seon-woo couldn’t even manage a “Well done.”
So once again, he just nodded.
That alone seemed enough to satisfy Eun-jae. Looking pleased, he sat down and cracked open a bottle of water Seung-hyeon had bought earlier.
Watching him drink made Seon-woo’s own throat feel parched. He grabbed a fresh bottle of water next to him and took a few sips, which helped ease the dryness.
‘What the hell now?’
Seon-woo nearly spat out his water. Alarmed, he examined the bottle to see if something was wrong.
Nothing seemed off.
Then, as if responding to his confusion, the system offered an explanation.
“……”
Seon-woo irritably set the Icis water bottle back down.
“Team Leader, you’ve gotta sing at least one too, right?”
Meanwhile, the peer pressure was in full swing. Several more songs had passed by now. At first, everyone had tried to cater to Seon-woo’s mood, only selecting slow, moody ballads. But now, they were hyped up, belting out songs like “Ttaengbeol” and “Unconditionally” with tambourines in hand.
Among them, only two people hadn’t sung a single song yet: Kyung-chul—who had suffered a spectacular failure with “Adult Ceremony”—and Team Leader Gwak Seung-hyeon.
Responding calmly to the team’s coaxing, Seung-hyeon got up from his seat without resistance.
“Assistant Manager Seo, how about a duet?”
The sudden suggestion made Eun-jae chuckle in surprise.
“Out of nowhere? Sure, I’m down.”
Even so, he didn’t say no—he stood up right away.
Until now, Seon-woo had been sitting there thinking “Why the hell did I even come here, expecting some kind of enlightenment?”—but now, for the first time all night, he actually felt a little interested.
Seung-hyeon approached the song machine and muttered,
“Let’s see… how about Nagging?”
How did things spiral to this point, where he was about to hear Nagging sung as a duet by Gwak Seung-hyeon and Seo Eun-jae in a goddamn karaoke room?
Even as Seon-woo let out a hollow laugh, Seung-hyeon casually pressed the start button.
The upbeat instrumental kicked in.
Tapping the tip of the mic lightly, Seung-hyeon asked Eun-jae,
“Which part do you want?”
“You’ve gotta be IU, of course.”
Eun-jae answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Seung-hyeon simply nodded with no complaint.
As the silly karaoke mascot on-screen counted down 3, 2, 1, Seung-hyeon entered right on cue.
Seon-woo thought it’d be hilarious if Seung-hyeon turned out to be tone-deaf, but surprisingly, he defied expectations.
His voice, while soft, wasn’t what you’d call high-pitched, yet he handled the female part with ease. He didn’t miss a beat like Eun-jae hadn’t, either. Objectively speaking, if he were to debut tomorrow, he’d get a standing ovation.
He harmonized so naturally that Seon-woo found himself genuinely impressed.
Until the system rudely snapped him out of it.
Apparently, being impressed by Seung-hyeon’s vocals wasn’t what the system had in mind.
Of course, it was yet another instance of the system trying to force emotions onto Seon-woo.
Clearly, the correct development here was for him to feel jealous while watching the sub-gong Seung-hyeon sing a duet with Seo Eun-jae.
But to actually feel jealous right now…?
‘They’re both… only looking at me…!’
Seon-woo, flustered, let out a dry cough.
Eun-jae looking at him—well, that could be because he was the main sub, probably.
As for Seung-hyeon… he was likely thinking about their “promise.”
Still, having both of their gazes locked on him made Seon-woo feel undeniably awkward.
While he averted his eyes and pretended to be distracted, the song gradually built toward its climax.
It wasn’t until that point that Eun-jae and Seung-hyeon finally turned their eyes away from Seon-woo—and locked eyes with each other.
Shooting each other pointed looks while singing lyrics like “Every little thing I say, it’s all for you” might’ve actually been more ridiculous than Kyung-chul’s Adult Ceremony—a full-blown comedy, really—but Seon-woo wisely kept his mouth shut to avoid ruining the mood.
Once the song ended, he clapped along naturally with the rest of the staff.
Thanks to the karaoke owner’s generous service, the second round dragged on for quite a while.
“The sky is so gray… I think I was in the karaoke too long… Wait, did I just rhyme or something…?”
“Sounds like you’re doing fine.”
It was a sky with no stars in sight.
Behind him, slow footsteps approached.
He didn’t even need to turn around this time—he just knew it was Seung-hyeon.
The expected voice called out. Seon-woo turned his head.
But Seung-hyeon simply nodded without pressing.
It was such a dry farewell that it almost deflated the tension in the air.
Just as he turned to walk back toward the others, Seung-hyeon stopped in his tracks.
Instead of asking Now what?, Seon-woo just raised an eyebrow.
Seung-hyeon gave a gentle smile and slowly turned his head.
The streetlight behind him cast a glow that lit up his face softly—almost reverently.
It was the kind of smile that felt sacred somehow.
“I’ll make sure to keep my promise.”
For a brief moment, it felt like Seung-hyeon’s voice from earlier echoed again in Seon-woo’s ears.
“If you don’t tell me what you want, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
That line lingered uncomfortably in a corner of Seon-woo’s mind, refusing to be shaken off.
Honestly, all he wanted was to close his eyes and pass out.
But thanks to the system’s relentless nagging, he had no choice but to drag himself up.
With a sigh, Seon-woo started to get off the bed—just as his phone vibrated.
He picked it up without much thought, only to see an unexpected name flash across the screen.
Well—unexpected might not have been the right word, exactly.
[Sorry for the late message, but there’s something I wanted to ask.]
After a brief hesitation, Seon-woo sent a curt reply.
Just a few hours ago, that number hadn’t even been saved in his phone.
Seung-hyeon’s reply came quickly.
[Do you remember that ten days from now is the Chairman’s birthday?]
Would it be strange to say he could hear Seung-hyeon’s voice in that message?
Frowning, Seon-woo set the phone down.
The conversation they’d had outside the restaurant replayed in his mind.