It was difficult to think positively, no matter how hard he tried. While resentment was an emotion that arose from an existing relationship of trust, what was the point of searching for emotions that had already departed? It seemed foolish to rejoice now over feelings that were no longer felt due to missed timing, and equally unsightly to be disappointed about losing those emotions.

A broken relationship could always be repaired. If there were mistakes, they could be made up for, and if something was lacking, one could simply do better.

Though reason spoke thus, the feeling of being slighted was unavoidable. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t angry when the situation had not just stagnated but regressed by ten steps.

Did you know all along?

His twisted feelings and sour mood directed his gaze towards the system window, which he felt like tearing apart out of frustration.

The system window hadn’t shown the relationship status since entering the dungeon. At the time, he had dismissed it as just another nuisance, but now he felt unsettled by the thought that even such small things might have been part of the system’s scheme. His accumulated suspicions turned into certainty, and certainty soon transformed into questions.

What on earth did it want?

He couldn’t understand why it was tormenting him with such effort. Why had it suddenly given him a status window when he had been living relatively well, adapting in his own way? Why was it assigning new quests and placing new people by his side? Nothing made sense.

Was it mere entertainment? Was it enjoying watching him struggle with false hope?

Did it want him to fail even more miserably here?

Even though he was already at rock bottom with nowhere lower to fall.

“…Aren’t you going?”

A voice interrupted his thoughts that were crashing like waves. It was Han Geon-joo.

Sa-yoon raised his head, which had fallen to the floor at some point, and looked at the man who had asked the curt question. The question of whether he wasn’t going wasn’t an invitation to return together.

It wasn’t such a cliché and emotionless statement. His question, seemingly suggesting they should leave, clearly conveyed his aversion to being alone with Sa-yoon.

He didn’t try to hide it. He didn’t look at Sa-yoon’s reaction, nor did he show any sign of observing Sa-yoon’s expression. His increasingly brusque and willful behavior seemed like a protest asking to be let go, causing Sa-yoon to frown as he took out his phone.

Do you think anything will change by acting like that?

No matter how arrogantly he behaved or how much he showed his irritation, it was useless. Having invested so much time and come this far, his determination to clear the quest through Geon-joo had only become more solid, not weakened at all. No matter how much Han Geon-joo acted as if he wanted Sa-yoon to tire of him, Sa-yoon couldn’t push him away just because he was tired.

However, thinking from the opposite perspective, as long as he had to clear the quest regardless of how Geon-joo behaved, he needed to play along. In a situation where their relationship had deteriorated to the worst, he couldn’t act on his own temperament as before. Drowning him or beating him to death would only repeat this exhausting psychological warfare, so it was better to quickly restore their relationship by giving him what he wanted and going along with him.

No matter how stubborn one might be, if one side acted with utmost sincerity, the other’s heart would inevitably soften. No matter how strong his emotions towards Sa-yoon were, if he continued to receive overwhelming support, his hatred would fade, and if Sa-yoon provided him with rare items that Han Geon-joo couldn’t obtain himself, he would gradually develop a favorable impression.

It was a matter of investing more time and effort.

Although it seemed like it would take a more roundabout path than initially thought, the situation wasn’t that serious. Muttering thus as if to console himself, Sa-yoon stared at Geon-joo, who had turned his back to him after saying just one word, and called Jongsik.

Everything would be resolved once the quest was over.

Everything.

“…Ah, Jongsik.”

The call connected quickly, and Jongsik’s voice came through. As Jongsik fussed about whether they had just come out and said he would come to pick them up right away, Sa-yoon vaguely affirmed and hung up, then glanced at Geon-joo’s face.

It was an excessively bland face.

Like someone who felt no emotion at the fact that they could now return. No, he rather looked like someone who was fed up.

Feeling a throbbing in his head, Sa-yoon closed his eyes.

Everything would be resolved once the quest was over.

The thought from earlier echoed in his mind like a mantra.

***

“Did something happen between you and Geon-joo?”

Jongsik asked as they entered the office, seemingly concerned about the atmosphere of silence that had persisted throughout the car ride back to the guild building. Sa-yoon let out a self-deprecating laugh as he pondered the scope of what Jongsik meant by “something.”

“A lot happened.”

“Geon-joo’s face looked quite grim. Did you push him too hard in the field? I clearly…”

“Jongsik.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“I’m tired.”

“…”

“I said I’m tired, Jongsik.”

After expressing his feelings twice, Jongsik’s mouth firmly closed. At the same time, a worried gaze scanned Sa-yoon’s face. The man who had been speaking as if defending Geon-joo until just a moment ago seemed to have changed his mind, clenching his fist before speaking.

“Did Geon-joo act in a way that tired you out? It’s strange for you, who used to enter and exit fields like they were your home, to be this exhausted just from clearing one Gate.”

It seemed that his thoughts had finally shifted from ‘Kwon Sa-yoon pushed Han Geon-joo too hard, resulting in this situation’ to ‘Han Geon-joo behaved terribly towards Kwon Sa-yoon, ruining the atmosphere.’ Sa-yoon didn’t respond to Jongsik’s change in suspicion. He lacked the energy and the will to explain.

As Sa-yoon waved his hand dismissively, Jongsik’s expression darkened.

“…If you want to rest, I’ll escort you to your bedroom.”

“I’ll go after I finish what I was doing, so you can leave.”

His expression darkened as Sa-yoon rejected his consideration. Lacking the composure to comfort him, Sa-yoon waved his hand again, and only then did Jongsik slowly leave the office. Sa-yoon couldn’t even respond to the soft “Please rest” he heard. Only when the sound of footsteps faded away and his heightened hearing caught the sound of the elevator descending did Sa-yoon exhale the breath he had been holding, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back.

His whole body felt uncomfortable and tired. He needed to shower but didn’t want to move, so he sat blankly for a while before bringing the documents he was holding in front of his eyes, fluttering them.

Although the letters were hard to read, he forced himself to process the work that had piled up during his absence. Despite being away for over three months, less work had accumulated than expected. It meant that Jongsik had handled things well on his own.

“A capable guy like that, suffering here.”

Jongsik had the skills to move to another guild or establish a new one. Yet, just because Sa-yoon had saved his life once, he followed him around as if dedicating his entire life, which seemed incredibly foolish. While most people value those who save their lives, Jongsik took it to an extreme.

That’s why he had acted the same way towards Han Geon-joo.

He had saved him from the brink of death several times. Of course, since he was the one who had provided the danger in the first place, the effect was significantly lower compared to a normal life-saving act, but as the number of instances accumulated, it did bring about some positive changes. Sa-yoon could clearly see that Geon-joo had let down his guard towards him, become familiar with him, and started to feel comfortable around him.

And yet.

“…Picky bastard.”

It was infuriating to think that one mistake had twisted their relationship so severely. He wasn’t even sure if it could be called a mistake in the first place.

Even if it was a mistake to Han Geon-joo.

“…”

As his thoughts continued, Sa-yoon threw down the documents. He pressed his eyes with his hands, letting out long-buried emotions.

It was the best choice.

He had to kill him, and he wanted to be killed. That’s why he had killed Noah, and because of that, he – although it was a virtual world – met the ending he had wanted for the first time.

It was almost enviable.

All sorts of thoughts began to fill his mind complexly. He had come straight to the office to work instead of resting in bed because he hated this, hated having useless thoughts, but it didn’t seem to have much effect. If he was going to be lost in thought either way, he might as well be physically comfortable, so Sa-yoon got up from his chair and left the office. As he was about to enter the elevator, he thought of Geon-joo.

Han Geon-joo, who had entered his quarters guided by Jongsik, should have been fast asleep by now, considering the fatigue from clearing the Gate.

Or, like himself, he might still be unable to sleep, caught up in his thoughts.

Whichever it was, feeling that he needed to see his face to calm his troubled mind, the hand that was about to press the top floor button went down. After pressing the button and holding his breath, Sa-yoon closed his eyes in the enclosed space where only the quiet sound of the moving elevator echoed. As he leaned his head against the mirror with a thud, a voice came to mind.

‘I feel sorry for you, hyung.’

The voice tinged with sympathy, which he had never received even from Jongsik, was clearly something he wouldn’t forget for a while.

“Hah…”

Hadn’t he asked why he had brought him along?

It was a conversation from about a month ago. In Sa-yoon’s perception, that was clearly the moment when their relationship first began to twist. Until Han Geon-joo asked that question, they had been maintaining a fairly good relationship. Although he had shown irritation towards Sa-yoon, he had clearly admired him and would immediately grumble and talk if he had any complaints.

It was completely different from now, causing Sa-yoon to open his eyes and stare at the descending floor numbers before lowering his gaze.

“You asked why I brought you along?”

Only Sa-yoon’s voice quietly echoed in the space where there was no one to hear.

“Geon-joo.”

Sa-yoon called out to him softly, then closed his eyes again with a sigh. For some reason, the image of the young boy who had met his end with a face as peaceful as if he were sleeping filled his dark vision. Zing, his head rang.

I want you to save me.

The true feelings he had never once uttered aloud once again only swirled inside his mouth.