Survive! Gwanggong!

If he’d truly known what those numbers meant, he never would’ve said them so carelessly.

It wasn’t like he’d never wondered what the password he keyed in every time he came home actually meant. The numbers looked like a date at a glance, so he’d guessed it might be Gwanggong’s birthday, or maybe a significant day for someone close to him. Still, with no way to find out, he’d just let the curiosity sit on the back burner.

But to find out the number had something to do with Gwak Seung-hyeon… Whatever the meaning behind it was, one thing was certain—it wasn’t something he should’ve revealed to him.

“……”

He had no idea what to say to get himself out of this situation. At a loss for words, Seon-woo just clamped his mouth shut and glared daggers at Seung-hyeon.

Seung-hyeon calmly studied Seon-woo’s expression before speaking in a composed tone.

“See? You still look completely clueless.”

“…Bullshit.”

He snapped back, but his voice lacked strength. Even to Seon-woo’s own ears, it sounded weak—and Seung-hyeon definitely noticed it too. Still calm, Seung-hyeon continued.

“September 14th… That’s my father’s memorial day, isn’t it?”

And almost as soon as those words left Seung-hyeon’s lips, a set of choices flashed before Seon-woo’s eyes.

▶ “You dare speak of that in front of me?”

▶ “Shut up! You’ve got some nerve, running your mouth without knowing when to shut it.”

The system was fuming again. Logically speaking, it was supposed to be an AI designed to assist the player, yet somehow it felt like it had its own personality—like it could actually get pissed off. Maybe it only felt that way because Seon-woo didn’t know much about games.

He hesitated, considering whether he should pick the first option: “You dare speak of that in front of me?” Maybe if he reacted like that, it would throw off Seung-hyeon’s suspicions. But that thought faded quickly.

If he responded like that and Seung-hyeon followed up with something like, “If it makes you this mad now, why were you fine telling me about it before?”—he’d have no good answer.

While Seon-woo was still debating, Seung-hyeon took the initiative and spoke again.

“You never wanted to bring up anything even remotely related to him. Especially not with me.”

The moment had slipped through his fingers. No matter which option he chose now, it would seem off. The system must’ve realized that too, because the previous set of choices vanished from view.

▶ “You knew, and you still dared to say it out loud?”

▶ “Who the hell do you think you are, acting like you know anything?”

The new options were just as filled with fury. For the same reasons as before, Seon-woo didn’t go with the first one. Feeling vaguely embarrassed, he resigned himself to voicing the second line the system had given him.

“Who the hell do you think you are, acting like you know anything?”

At this point, it honestly felt like Gwak Seung-hyeon knew way more than he did…

As Seon-woo frantically racked his brain, he also found himself wondering what Seung-hyeon must be feeling right now. According to what Gwak Seung-hyeon had said, the original Gwanggong was even more of a vicious bastard than Seon-woo had imagined. His personality was so foul it made your skin crawl. He’d tormented Seung-hyeon relentlessly—practically every single day. And to top it off, apparently he had a nasty habit of getting physical too. That said it all.

Then there was the matter of his father’s death anniversary. From what Seon-woo had picked up at a previous family gathering, Gwak Seung-hyeon’s father had already passed away. So the date Seung-hyeon mentioned had to be the day his father died. Whatever the story behind it, that date was apparently a huge trigger for Gwanggong—a line you absolutely did not cross.

Which meant, from Gwak Seung-hyeon’s point of view… his sadistic, cold-blooded cousin—who used to verbally and physically abuse him like it was a hobby—suddenly did a complete 180. Out of nowhere, he started acting kind, then he fell mysteriously ill and took to his bed, and on top of all that, he went as far as to give him the house password. And that password just so happened to be a number connected to the very thing he’d sworn never to speak of.

Yeah. That’s how things were looking right now.

Honestly, even Seon-woo had to admit—if the roles were reversed, he’d be suspicious too.

“Unless you really did become someone else overnight…”

While Seon-woo was sweating bullets, Seung-hyeon suddenly dropped a line. It was so sharp and direct, it sent a cold sting through his chest. Seon-woo snuck a glance at him. Seung-hyeon was wearing a grave expression, his thumb and index finger resting on his chin as he sank deep into thought. He finally spoke again.

“I just… can’t think of any other reason.”

“……”

“They say people act out of character when they’re about to die. Did you get diagnosed with some terminal illness or something?”

“What did you just say?”

“Guess not… Sorry.”

Well, at least he hadn’t figured out that Seon-woo really was a different person. Most people wouldn’t jump to such an outlandish conclusion just because someone started acting a little different, anyway.

Thinking fast, Seon-woo came up with what seemed like the best plan he had: play the ‘you’re being ungrateful’ card. If he said he’d only been acting nicer because he wanted to get along better, but now that he was being insulted like this, he was starting to regret it—that might help him save face.

There was no time left to hesitate. Seon-woo opened his mouth and said,

“So I try treating you like a human being for once, and this is how you repay me? Turning around and insulting me like this? Makes me wonder why I even bothered.”

“…Is that so?”

Seon-woo didn’t like the vague, uneasy tone of that reply. He quickly tried to figure out what he could do next to sell the act—to make what he’d just said sound more believable. But before he could do anything, Seung-hyeon scanned his face intently and spoke again.

“Do you remember what you said to me when my father passed away?”

“……”

There’s no way he could remember something that wasn’t even part of his own memory. Seon-woo stood there frozen, tongue-tied, hoping the system would throw him a lifeline with some kind of choice.

▶ “Shut up!’

▶ “Get lost!”

▶ “Bullshit!”

Great. A set of options did pop up—but they were utterly useless.

Seriously…? Can’t you at least give me a response that actually answers the damn question…?

The system kept churning out options that demanded outrage in response to Seung-hyeon’s words, but not a single one offered any explanation about what had actually happened between them in the past. If there had been some kind of major incident, shouldn’t the system have at least pretended to stop him when Seon-woo gave away the password?

‘Useless crap like this only ends up tanking Gwanggong’s score…’

▶ “Shut up!”

▶ “Get lost!”

▶ “Bullshit!”

When Seon-woo refused to pick any of the options, the system, seemingly impatient, flashed them again. But once again, Seung-hyeon was faster to speak.

“Director, it’s not like I’m trying to accuse you of anything.”

And just like that, the selection window vanished again. Apparently, if the other person changed the flow of the conversation before you made your choice, the options could be canceled out.

Since Seon-woo hadn’t managed to give a proper reply, it looked like Seung-hyeon was now fully convinced that something was off with him. All of his carefully laid plans had been thrown off course thanks to this uncooperative system. Left with no choice, Seon-woo kept quiet and let Seung-hyeon continue.

“If I think something’s wrong with you, I have to report it to the Chairman. But what do you think will happen if I tell him exactly what’s been going on?”

Report…?

So the Chairman had been getting regular updates about Gwanggong’s behavior from Seung-hyeon. Seon-woo suddenly remembered what the Chairman had said before: “I sent him to your company thinking he might be of some help to you.”

Yeah, right. “Help.” More like spy.

Seon-woo tried to figure out what Seung-hyeon was getting at. Was he trying to blackmail him? Given Gwanggong’s history, there wouldn’t be much ground to argue if he was using it as leverage—but Seung-hyeon’s expression didn’t seem calculating or malicious.

Seon-woo narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at him. Seung-hyeon spoke.

“If you won’t tell me anything, then there’s nothing I can do to help.”

His tone sounded more like persuasion than a threat. And that convinced Seon-woo—Seung-hyeon wasn’t trying to corner him.

▶ “Don’t overstep.”

▶ “Nothing you can do to help? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

▶ “Watch your damn mouth.”

A new set of dialogue choices appeared, and he had to pick one. They were all pretty much the same flavor, so Seon-woo just chose the first one.

“Don’t overstep.”

“I apologize.”

Seung-hyeon responded immediately, though his voice didn’t sound particularly sorry.

Seon-woo didn’t really care about what he’d just said or what Seung-hyeon had answered. His mind was focused solely on one thing—figuring out what the hell to say next. In the end, he came to a single conclusion.

After his empty apology, Seung-hyeon looked at him expectantly, as if silently urging him to speak. Seon-woo glanced over and let out a long, weary sigh.

“Damn it… I really didn’t want it to come to this.”

Never in his life had he imagined a day would come when he’d have to say something like this.

Honestly, he didn’t even believe anyone would buy it. But with his eyes squeezed shut, Gwak Seon-woo finally said it.

“…I have amnesia.”

Seung-hyeon remained silent for a long moment after hearing that.

“…Excuse me?”

The moment Seung-hyeon uttered that short reply, Seon-woo regretted everything.

Yeah… definitely the wrong move.

Maybe it was just too cliché—like something ripped straight out of a soap opera. And now, thanks to that ridiculous excuse, he’d even taken a hit to his Gwanggong Score. Seon-woo swallowed his frustration along with the sting of humiliation.

Seung-hyeon had looked visibly caught off guard at first, but quickly regained his composure and slipped back into deep thought.

Seon-woo waited like a man standing at the gallows.

Should I just punch him in the face and bolt?

He already thinks I’m insane, and the original Gwanggong didn’t seem to mind using his fists… Maybe I should just roll with it and act like the violent bastard he used to be…

No. Stop. What the hell are you even thinking?

Letting out a short sigh, Seon-woo pressed his fingers to his forehead. And then, Seung-hyeon spoke.

“Hmm… That actually makes sense.”

“…What did you just say?”

“If that’s the case, then yeah… I can accept that.”

Seon-woo stared blankly as Seung-hyeon gave a small nod.

Dazed, he thought to himself:

He’s buying this…?