As he lay there, a peeled grape was pushed into his mouth. He accepted it reflexively, and another one immediately began to tap at his lips. It was already the twentieth.

Just how many bunches of grapes did he buy?

“You finished it. Open up.”

“I don’t want any more.”

“Just one more.”

It was the third time he’d heard that line. Annoyed by the transparent ploy, Sa-yoon pushed away the hand that was tapping at his lips and tried to sit up. Or more accurately, he was stopped from sitting up. The moment he stirred, Geon-joo, who had noticed with supernatural speed, pressed a button on the chair, telling him to stay still.

With a soft, soundless whir, the chair he had been using as a bed moved, raising his upper body to a forty-five-degree angle. He could sit up comfortably without an ounce of effort; the world had certainly become a convenient place. It would have been even better if this bed-like chair wasn’t a medical one.

“Don’t you think this has gone beyond resting and is now just treating me like a patient?”

“Looking at your current state, I don’t think there’s any problem with treating you like a patient.”

“You won’t even let me get a word in.”

“If you know you’re in no state to talk, then just keep playing.”

As he spoke, Han Geon-joo pushed the twenty-first grape toward his lips. Sa-yoon opened his mouth out of habit and chewed the soft fruit while gazing out the window. Beyond the glass, waves rolled onto the shore.

A villa by the sea.

The place Yen had prepared possessed all the elements of a villa you would only see in movies. There was the pristine, clear seawater and the foam it created; the tranquil quiet, punctuated only by the atmospheric cry of seagulls; and the villa itself, decorated with an antique sensibility. Usually, seaside areas were used as public beaches and were full of people, but this place was different. When he’d asked how Yen had found such a location in the country, he had boasted that an entire island had been left in ruins by a Gate Break, so he’d cut off all ferry access and secretly cleaned it up over three years.

Rebuilding a ruin. And illegally, without the state’s permission, at that.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the man who had turned an entire island into his own private retreat. It was true what they say: a true madman thinks on a different level, and the scale of his troubles is in a league of its own. Seeing Yen gave Sa-yoon a dose of his own medicine, and he was now spending his days on the island in a time of unexpected self-reflection.

Or, in Han Geon-joo’s words, “playing.”

Yes.

Sa-yoon was playing.

With all his might, he was being truly, utterly lazy. He was living a life of such indolence that he wondered if it was really okay to do nothing at all.

Han Geon-joo had volunteered to attend to his every need, so he didn’t have to lift a finger. He fed Sa-yoon fruit, dried his hair when he came out of the shower, and acted as his legs, fetching anything he wanted. Not only that, but when Sa-yoon complained about feeling stiff and wanting to go to a Gate, Geon-joo went himself and came back with a video stone of the clear, telling him to live vicariously. He had even once captured a monster and brought it back, suggesting Sa-yoon try taming a summon, even though he wasn’t a summoner.

Thanks to him, there was never a dull moment. One would think the service provider would grow tired from offering such comprehensive care, but Han Geon-joo showed no signs of exhaustion. In fact, from the look on his face sometimes, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the situation.

When Han Geon-joo wore that expression, he looked like a purely happy young man, and Sa-yoon couldn’t bring himself to spoil the mood. As a result, he had no choice but to accept all the services provided. Every meal was a culinary creation born from Jongsik’s fiery passion. If any troublesome situations arose, Gyeongjin and Yen would handle them. And just when he was getting bored of this comfortable routine, Chan-hee would put on an impromptu performance to keep him entertained.

All in all, it was a rather peaceful life. He had his lover by his side, a personal chef, a guy who was either a secretary or an idiot, and dozens of loyal guild members.

It was the life of a rich, famous, and unemployed man that anyone might dream of, but Sa-yoon’s mind was not at peace. The reason was simple: he had been resting for too long. He had thought it would be a day or two, but it had already been four. Even Lee Jaehee, who he had expected to be getting anxious about the extended break, showed no reaction, simply letting his summons run free and play in the sea. He had watched him for another day, but even on the fourth day, the man said nothing.

He didn’t say it was time to move, nor did he ask about the next plan. It was as if everyone was deliberately ignoring the future, enjoying only the present.

Sa-yoon stared at the relentless crash of the waves until his vision started to blur. He forced strength back into his eyes.

Get a grip, Kwon Sa-yoon.

Are you going to let yourself get lost in this?

The self-scolding cleared his head a little. It was obvious that everyone had let their guard down, savoring this long-overdue break.

At times like this, he, the leader, had to be the one to think rationally. Sa-yoon tapped the armrest of his chair and spoke.

“Haven’t we been resting for too long?”

At that single sentence, the inhabitants of the villa, each busy with their own tasks, froze. Jongsik stopped chopping vegetables, Gyeongjin stopped reviewing documents, Yen paused his make-up application, and Jaehee stopped stroking his summon to turn and look at Sa-yoon. Lastly, Han Geon-joo, who had been peeling an apple since Sa-yoon had refused any more grapes, looked up with a knife still in hand and an expression of disbelief.

“Too long? Anyone would think we’ve been resting for a month.”

“Not a month, but we have rested for four days.”

“That barely even counts as resting.”

What? If four days doesn’t count as rest, then why is the weekend a holiday?

He retorted with his eyes, but Yen, resuming his make-up, chimed in to support Geon-joo.

“Four days is nothing. You can rest for four weeks and it would be fine, so just play. I offered up this villa for you to use. What would it say about my reputation if you left after only four days?”

His tone was light, betraying no actual concern for his reputation. Sa-yoon looked at the people in the villa with an uncomprehending gaze. Just as he was wondering how much longer they needed to rest, Lee Jaehee spoke up.

“Let’s rest for a full month.”

A clear timeframe had finally been proposed, but he didn’t like it one bit.

“One week. I can’t concede any more than that.”

“Hey, even a robber doesn’t cut things down that much,” Han Geon-joo criticized, seeing him instantly slash three weeks off the proposal.

“Instead of cutting three weeks, let’s just rest for the full three weeks. I can’t concede any more than this, either.”

“Five days.”

“You think cutting it down like that will scare me? In that case, I say one month.”

“You little bastard.”

Sa-yoon finally grabbed a fistful of Geon-joo’s hair. “Ow, ow, hyung!” Geon-joo, who had been acting like a child with no leash, yelped, trying to save his hair from being torn out. It was then that Jaehee’s voice offered a compromise.

“Let’s make it a fortnight.”

Geon-joo agreed that was a much better option, and while Sa-yoon was still not convinced, the dozens of pairs of eyes staring at him were exerting a silent pressure. He clicked his tongue and slumped back in his chair.

His recently returned conscience was acting up again, reminding him of his executives who had never had a proper week off while running Night Rat.

Figuring he should give them a proper vacation this time, he reluctantly agreed, telling them to do as they pleased. Gyeongjin let out a sigh.

“Anyone would think we’re the ones pushing you to work. All we’re asking is for you to rest. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that this isn’t a situation where we can afford to rest.”

“It’s not like anything dramatic is going to change in the fortnight we take off, you know?”

Gyeongjin threw a blanket at him, telling him to take a nap instead of talking nonsense. Geon-joo deftly caught it and draped it over Sa-yoon, like a hairdresser putting a cape on a client before a haircut.

“I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Sa-yoon muttered, feeling utterly defeated. Faced with the pressure to either sleep or eat an apple, he chose the former. Han Geon-joo, the purveyor of such outrageous choices, announced that he would sleep next to him and spread out a blanket.

“I watched a horror movie today.”

“Good for you.”

“Take a hint. You don’t get what I’m saying?”

“What?”

“Let’s sleep together.”

With that, the man picked up Sa-yoon, who had been shifting to find a comfortable position, and placed him on the well-laid-out blanket. In an instant, a pillow was under his head and an arm was draped over his body. Sa-yoon narrowed his eyes at the smooth maneuver and shot Geon-joo a glare, but then gave up with an exasperated noise when he heard Jaehee, Gyeongjin, and Yen team up to brand him as the bad guy. Only then did the condemnation of the “trash who bullies his lover” stop, and a breath of disbelief escaped Sa-yoon’s lips.

He had never spent so much time doing absolutely nothing, except for the time he had been so broken he didn’t even have the energy to go mad and chose to just lie there. While that choice had been one of resignation and rest, this was a forced vacation, which made it different.

Still, if he had to choose between the two, this was better. Taking a deep breath, Sa-yoon looked at Geon-joo, who had really fallen asleep, then rested his head against him and closed his eyes.

Around that time, Yen and Gyeongjin had stolen Sa-yoon’s phone, his tablet, and every other device that could contact the outside world. And in the cities outside the information-blacked-out island, a storm was brewing.

[A String of SS+-Rank Gate Clear Failures. Will Korea Collapse Without ‘Sa-yoon’…?]

Negative headlines swept the media.