Survive! Gwanggong!

When he lay in bed with his eyes wide open, a message arrived. It was from an unsaved number. Checking it, he saw it was from Seo Eun-jae.

[This is Seo Eun-jae. I’m really sorry about today. I feel like I just caused trouble for you, but I sincerely appreciate it. I’ll return your clothes as soon as possible!]

At the end of the message was an emoji of a face laughing while crying. He had agreed to let Seo Eun-jae take his number to return the clothes, but he hadn’t expected a message so soon. Gwak Seon-woo debated whether to ignore it and pretend to be asleep, but since he wasn’t getting any sleep anyway, he decided he might as well reply.

[It’s fine. You can return the clothes whenever. Have a good ni—]

< Gwanggong does not engage in lengthy pleasantries. >

Just as he was about to add a polite closing like any proper working adult, the system intervened. Begrudgingly, he pressed the delete button.

[It’s fine.]

In the end, the message he sent was a mere five syllables. From the recipient’s perspective, it probably felt abrupt. And sure enough.

Even though Seo Eun-jae had made an effort to respond to even his shortest replies in person, there was no answer to this one.

After waiting a while and still seeing no movement from his phone, Gwak Seon-woo finally laid down in relief. He didn’t have to deal with an awkward back-and-forth of “Have a good night.” “You too, Seo Eun-jae.” “Sleep well.” “Yes, you too, Director…” The thought was comforting.

It was hard to believe only a day had passed.

He thought he’d have trouble sleeping, but he slept surprisingly well. As expected of a sturdy Gwanggong, a single day of stress wasn’t enough to wear him down.

The morning was no different from usual. He got out of his dark room, took a cold shower, had cold water for breakfast, and put on a sharply pressed suit and polished shoes before heading out.

His stomach remained eerily silent—not even a faint growl. If anything, the emptiness felt even more pronounced.

This biased system had allowed him to eat gukbap when he was with Seo Eun-jae, so wouldn’t it be better to just drag Seo Eun-jae along every day for a tour of famous restaurants?

As soon as he entertained the pointless thought, the system immediately pushed back.

< A Gwanggong on a restaurant tour? Preposterous. Gwanggong points -2. >

He tried to brush it off as nothing, but upon further thought, it wasn’t nothing.

His Gwanggong score was 61 last night. If 2 points were deducted, that meant his score had now dropped into the 50s.

That meant his score had dropped.

Losing 40 points in just one day—if he lost just 10 more today, he’d end up afflicted by whatever status effect had been warned about. He still didn’t know exactly what kind of debuff it would be, but considering he was already forced to skip meals in a perfectly normal state, he had no idea what might happen if he got hit with an actual penalty.

Gwak Seon-woo resolved to behave as model Gwanggong-like as possible, even if he didn’t like his choices. He had to resist less and comply more.

As soon as he arrived at the company, his secretary was right on his heels. He was reminded that this highly competent secretary was the same person who had stocked his entire home with nothing but Evian water and whiskey. Honestly, would it have killed them to include at least a salad or some cheese for snacking? But then again, this was all according to the Gwanggong’s preferences. It wasn’t the secretary’s fault—if anything, they were just too good at their job.

“Director, you have a family gathering scheduled for this evening. It will be at the H Grand Hotel restaurant.”

“Yes, I know.”

Gwak Seon-woo had no clue about the time or place, but he answered as naturally as if he had memorized it. The secretary simply nodded as if it were only expected and began briefing him on the rest of the day’s schedule. However, he barely paid attention.

Because he was worried.

A “family gathering” in this context meant one thing—an assembly of the company’s elite chaebol members. This wasn’t going to be some warm, homey event where they sat around making dumplings together. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of business would be discussed.

To make matters worse, he didn’t even know what his “family” was like. Hell, he didn’t even know what they looked like. The only exception was Gwak Seung-hyeon—the one person he recognized. But even calling them “family” felt questionable, considering their relationship. Besides, weren’t they only cousins by title, with no actual blood relation? He wasn’t even sure if they’d be attending today.

His headache was getting worse.

Brushing off his unease for now, he turned to the more immediate issue at hand.

“What’s the status on what I asked you to look into yesterday?”

He was referring to the corruption he’d uncovered while reviewing documents the day before. The secretary hesitated before responding with a troubled expression.

“Director, well… as you might have expected, the embezzlement is real. We’ve all but confirmed the existence of a paper company. However…”

“However?”

“This won’t be easy to handle. As you know, Executive Director Gwak Sang-cheol is a relative of yours, and if you proceed with this, the Chairman is bound to step in as well.”

He didn’t know. Not “as you know”—not at all.

Gwak Seon-woo had always clicked his tongue whenever he read articles about chaebol families funneling tens of billions through paper companies, but that didn’t mean he was eager to go to war with his own family over this. He had no intention of taking a direct stand against them.

He was just about to shrug it off and say, “Ah, well, then let’s just drop it,” when a set of options appeared before his eyes.

▶ “Don’t worry about that. Proceed as planned.”

▶ “It doesn’t matter. Continue the investigation!”

▶ “Since when have we cared about such things? Keep going.”

By now, he was getting used to how things worked. Letting out a sigh, Gwak Seon-woo picked a random option and answered without much thought before sinking into his chair with little energy.

His life goal had always been to live as uneventfully as possible—smoothly, without trouble, without conflict. But judging by how things were unfolding, that seemed impossible. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was now actively creating one ridiculous situation after another.

While he was handling work absentmindedly, his phone buzzed.

[Hello, Director! I dropped your clothes off for dry cleaning, and they just let me know I can pick them up this evening. If you’re free, can I bring them to you after work??]

It was Seo Eun-jae again. He had assumed their conversation had ended last night, but the guy had reached out on his own.

Honestly, Gwak Seon-woo didn’t care much about the clothes, no matter what happened to them. But he could understand where Seo Eun-jae was coming from. If he were in the same situation—borrowing a chaebol’s clothes—he’d probably want to return them as soon as possible to ease his conscience.

[I’m busy this evening.]

He kept it brief, avoiding any mention of tomorrow. If he suggested another time and the system decided to intervene again, that would just be a hassle.

The reply came back quickly.

[Oh no ㅠㅠ You have dinner plans! Then would tomorrow work for you?]

Gwak Seon-woo was about to type a simple “Yes”—a single character reply. But then he hesitated.

Since entering this body, the only person who ever contacted this Gwanggong was Seo Eun-jae.

That realization hit unexpectedly. This Gwanggong had no friends.

Feeling a little sorry for him, Gwak Seon-woo reworded his response with a faint sense of pity.

[Yes. It’s a family gathering. You can bring the clothes tomorrow.]

Thankfully, the system had nothing to say about that. Seo Eun-jae replied almost immediately, adding a fist-pumping emoji at the end.

[Got it! Hope your family gathering goes well!]

For some reason, he felt slightly pleased, as if he had just contributed to improving the Gwanggong’s nonexistent social life. Feeling generous, he decided to send one last message to wrap things up.

[Make sure you eat dinner, too. See you tomorrow.]

Just as he set his phone down with satisfaction, another vibration came.

He had expected a simple “Got it!” or “Okay!”, but the reply was longer than anticipated.

[Yep! I skipped lunch, so I’m planning to eat properly at dinner.]

It could simply mean that Seo Eun-jae was naturally sociable, the kind of person who preferred longer replies. But honestly, there was a good chance it meant something more.

He noticed it, but—well.

It was too ambiguous to completely ignore.

If he didn’t reply, Seo Eun-jae would undoubtedly feel mortified. The guy had already taken the bold step of sending a casual text to a company director—it felt a little cruel to leave him hanging.

[Why did you skip lunch?]

He swallowed back the rest of his thoughts—It’s not like you’re a Gwanggong…

Seo Eun-jae’s reply came instantly, saying he’d just been too busy with work.

For a moment, Gwak Seon-woo wondered if this kind of casual back-and-forth was really okay. But he didn’t say anything about it.

Seo Eun-jae was undeniably good at this. He never left enough of a gap for the conversation to end completely.

Of course, part of it was because Gwak Seon-woo was incredibly bored, and the only person he could properly talk to in this body was Seo Eun-jae. But whatever the reason, thanks to him, Gwak Seon-woo continued exchanging small messages with him all the way to the restaurant for his evening gathering.

***

Stepping into the hotel lobby, he made a conscious effort not to glance around.

He had no idea what his family members looked like. Wandering around trying to spot them would just make him look ridiculous. So instead, he strode across the lobby with confidence, as if he had a perfect grasp of the situation.

And then, at the elevator, he ran into a familiar face. Whether that was fortunate or not was hard to say.

“Director.”

Gwak Seung-hyeon greeted him first with a slight bow.

Every time they met, they always parted on bad terms. And yet, when they met again, Gwak Seung-hyeon would always be the one to offer a composed greeting first. It was practically a ritual at this point.

Matching the gesture, Gwak Seon-woo returned a small bow before stepping into the elevator that Gwak Seung-hyeon was holding open for him.

His secretary, standing beside him, stared at him with a blank expression. The fact that they weren’t making any move to join meant that they weren’t planning to follow him from this point on.

Gwak Seung-hyeon glanced toward the secretary and spoke.

“You may leave.”

The secretary, however, neither responded nor moved.

Gwak Seung-hyeon let out a short laugh, still holding down the elevator’s open button. That was when Gwak Seon-woo realized—his secretary was waiting for his order and had completely ignored Gwak Seung-hyeon’s.

“Go ahead.”

Only after he spoke did the secretary finally bow and step away.

Gwak Seung-hyeon let go of the button.

The realization hit Gwak Seon-woo belatedly—he and even his subordinate had just openly disregarded Gwak Seung-hyeon.

To be honest, he felt kind of bad about it. So bad, in fact, that he almost squirmed from the awkwardness.

But since Gwak Seung-hyeon wasn’t saying anything, there was no way he could bring it up first.

At that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

[Yep! Enjoy your dinner!]

It was another reply from Seo Eun-jae.

He was about to slip his phone back into his pocket without responding when Gwak Seung-hyeon suddenly spoke.

“Is that Seo?”

There was an edge to his voice. The question was too direct to dodge.

When Gwak Seon-woo gave a reluctant nod, Gwak Seung-hyeon’s gaze sharpened even further.

Right. He had nearly forgotten that, according to the setting, he and Gwak Seung-hyeon were supposed to be romantic rivals.

Feeling awkward, Gwak Seon-woo averted his gaze.

“You two seem to have gotten quite close in just a day. I heard you even had gukbap together yesterday.”

“……”

It wasn’t like he could just come out and say, “I have no interest in competing over Seo Eun-jae, so go ahead and do whatever you want.”

That would be too blunt. The whole situation was just plain uncomfortable.

Gwak Seung-hyeon continued, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“A sandwich was a no, but gukbap was fine…?”

The words weren’t surprising, but the fact that this was what he was irritated about caught Gwak Seon-woo off guard. Instinctively, he turned his head toward Gwak Seung-hyeon.

So that’s what pissed him off.

“It’s impossible to understand your standards, Director.”

A bead of nervous sweat trickled down his back.