Surviving Restructuring

The chairman let out a sharp scoff. “Hah!”

What sounded like a laugh was actually closer to a burst of rage barely held together.

“How could the Ten Companies fail to handle a single man?!” he shouted.

Swoosh—!

Flames seemed to surge upward with his fury. His white hair flared like fire, his bloodshot gaze burning as it locked onto the screen that still displayed Eun-Ho’s final message.

“What about the Operations Department?” His red eyes snapped toward the deputy chief. “I sent them to clean it up long ago, why is there still no report?!”

“T-that’s because...” the deputy stammered, his voice faltering.

It made no sense at all! The newly appointed chief of staff was supposed to be competent. He should be more than capable of handling something like this!

“I’ll go myself,” the chairman declared.

“Chairman!” the deputy blurted, breaking into a cold sweat.

A memory flashed through his mind. It was about words the chief of staff had left behind before heading out personally to the Operations Department.

“The chairman must never step in personally.”

“Why not? If he does, things will be over quickly instead of dragging on,” the deputy had argued at the time.

“Sure, the strike will end, but what do you think will come after?”

“Sorry?”

“There’ll be backlash. How can a single union cause so much chaos? If the chairman intervenes directly, it won’t stop there. It’ll spiral out of control.”

“Yes! Then I’ll do my best to stop him from getting involved directly!”

“No, no.”

“Pardon?”

“If you do that, you’ll die. You’ll be dead.”

“Huh?”

In the end, the advice he had given before leaving was simple. It was to never, under any circumstances, oppose the chairman.

“B-but isn’t giving proper advice also an important virtue of a secretary?”

“You need to stay alive to do your job. You want to die before you even get married?”

“Well, no...”

If the chairman said the sun rose in the west, then the answer was, “Yes, that is correct.” If he gave an order that would ruin the company, the answer was still, “Yes, understood.”

That was because speaking the truth, no matter how reasonable, could get his head blown clean off. The former chief even grimly joked that he’d seen over twenty heads explode in three days after his promotion.

Would things have been different if the former chief had been the one standing here? After all, he had spent countless years by the chairman’s side, bound by trust and shared history. Meanwhile, the newly promoted staff had none of those, so he could only lower his head.

“Understood,” he said quietly.

It was not for the company, but for his own survival.

“Be quick,” the chairman ordered.

Unaware or perhaps unconcerned of the deputy’s inner turmoil, the chairman’s mind was already racing ahead.

“Yes, sir. I’ll set the destination to the entrance of the Wailing Forest,” the deputy said quickly.

“Wait,” the chairman cut in. “Who said anything about the Wailing Forest?”

“Pardon?”

There were two critical locations. One was the Wailing Castle, where Eun-Ho and his son were. The second one was the Operations Bureau, where the system maintenance infrastructure was concentrated. There were two baits, yet only one of him. The chairman had to choose which to strike first, as both were equally infuriating and deserved to be crushed immediately.

“I won’t chase after someone who’s offering himself as bait,” he said coldly.

“Sir?”

He was the head of the company, the one who ruled this entire world. He could not afford to let his boiling anger cloud his judgment.

“Summon the directors,” he ordered.

It was time to call in the eight bureaus, known collectively as the Eight Heavens.

“We’ll strike both at once.”

“B-both at once?!” the deputy echoed in shock.

“And where shall we escort you, Chairman?” the deputy asked carefully.

The old man tilted his head slightly, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his blood-red eyes. Then, after a brief pause, he gave his answer.

***

It was 6:30 PM; the bright sky had slowly begun to dim, taking on a dusky red hue.

“This way! Ms. Sol-Ah!” someone called urgently.

“Mass Heal!” Sol-Ah shouted.

Inside one of the Operations Bureau buildings, a makeshift infirmary had been set up, overflowing with people.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” injured workers said repeatedly.

After half a day of nonstop fighting, the number of wounded had grown exponentially. Meanwhile, those responsible for treating them numbered only six.

There was Yoon Sol-Ah, a healer with true restorative abilities. Then there was the tattooist woman, who produced medicinal salves in bulk. Though each was less effective, their sheer quantity was overwhelming. There were also Dmitri, who specialized in fatigue recovery and buff; one Operations Bureau employee with minor healing skills; and another who provided support by playing buff-enhancing music.

Fwoosh—!

Among them, the most effective by far was Sol-Ah’s Mass Healing, which was exactly why she was the first to collapse.

“Haah!” she gasped.

“Sol-Ah!” someone cried.

“I-I can still go on,” Sol-Ah insisted, her face pale as she staggered on unsteady legs. She said weakly, “Mister... A potion, please...”

“That’s enough,” Dmitri said firmly. “If you keep this up, you’ll put yourself in danger.”

Even Dmitri’s potions had reached their limit. Though she had technically stayed within safe dosage, she had consumed an entire day’s worth in a single stretch. She simply couldn’t handle it anymore.

“T-then give me something stronger! The one you made recently!” she pleaded.

“Not now!” Dmitri snapped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the side effects are?!”

“I’ll be fine! I said I’m fine, so why—”

“Hey! Yoon Ssol! Go lie down!” Yeo-Jin, who had been bandaging the injured nearby, cut in sharply. “You always push yourself until you collapse. I told you that’s how you die young, didn’t I?”

Sol-Ah had always been like that. Even during exam periods, she’d go out for volunteer work, then come home and study all night. If anyone expressed concern about her overexertion, she would snap that they were the ones who should be working harder.

“Just a little longer,” Sol-Ah muttered. “We’re almost there.”

“How do you even know that, you idiot?!” Yeo-Jin shot back. “This fight could last days!”

Grabbing Sol-Ah by the wrist, Yeo-Jin dragged her toward the temporary ward. Then, she pushed Sol-Ah onto a hastily assembled bed meant for critical patients.

“Lie down,” Yeo-Jin ordered Sol-Ah then called out for someone. “Hey! Ma’am!”

“E-excuse me?” the musician replied, startled.

“You said you can sing lullabies or something, right? Please put her to sleep!”

Just like that, she recruited the buff musician to sing a lullaby.

“Ugh, my wrist! You’re ridiculously strong,” Sol-Ah muttered, rubbing it.

“Just sleep for ten minutes. I’ll wake you up.”

“I’m really fine...” Sol-Ah murmured.

However, she fell asleep the moment the lullaby began, snoring softly.

“See? Out like a light,” Yeo-Jin said with a sigh.

She gently wiped the sweat from Sol-Ah’s forehead, then hurried back out.

“M-my legs...” someone groaned.

“Here! Apply this and hold on!” Yeo-Jin said.

“This is a Joint-Regeneration Potion. Take it twice, thirty minutes apart,” another said.

The ward was so crowded that there was barely room to step. Their only consolation was that the enemy likely suffered just as many losses.

I hope this ends well... Yeo-Jin thought, anxiety spreading through her mind like spilled ink.

Just then, among the sea of wounded, she spotted a familiar face.

“Unnie! You’re hurt?!” Yeo-Jin cried.

Kim Ji-Eun limped into the ward, saying casually, “It’s just a scratch.”

“That’s not just a scratch!” Yeo-Jin protested.

Her leg was drenched in blood, her thigh torn open by something sharp.

“This didn’t just happen, did it?” Yeo-Jin asked.

“Ah, I got hit earlier. My leg’s fine, but my shoulder’s messed up, so I couldn’t shoot anymore,” Ji-Eun admitted.

Even to Yeo-Jin’s untrained eye, the wounds weren’t fresh. She had endured the pain, kept fighting, and only came back once it became impossible to fire her weapon.

Yeo-Jin’s eyes welled with tears. “Seriously, why does no one here know how to take care of themselves?”

Fools here. Fools there. Is everyone here just a bunch of fools? After everything they’d been through, after barely surviving, shouldn’t they value their lives more?

Frustration and worry churned inside Yeo-Jin’s chest.

“Haha, it’s not like that,” Ji-Eun said with a faint laugh. “We fight because we trust Sol-Ah.”

“Huh? Sol-Ah?” Yeo-Jin blinked.

“Because Sol-Ah will heal us,” Ji-Eun said with a smile.

It wasn’t kindness.

“Just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

Sol-Ah healed them because she believed her teammates would come back victorious. The teammates fought because they believed that, even if they return injured, they would be healed completely. It was a cycle built on unwavering trust.

“Where’s Sol-Ah?” Ji-Eun asked.

Yeo-Jin stared blankly toward the curtain, where her friend lay asleep on the flimsy bed.

“Ten minutes...” she muttered.

“Hmm?”

“No, five minutes! Even if she looks like she’s about to die, she’ll wake up fine after a short nap! I’ll treat you first, so just—”

Ji-Eun followed Yeo-Jin’s gaze toward the curtain.

Wake up? Where is she? Ah...

Tilting her head slightly, Ji-Eun smiled faintly.

“Well, let’s at least do first aid first,” Yeo-Jin said.

“I’ll wait.”

Even in a world like this, friendships like theirs hadn’t disappeared.

This is what we’re fighting to protect, Ji-Eun realized.

“The enemy’s offensive has slowed down,” Ji-Eun said. “You could call it a temporary lull.”

She was right because the battle had entered a brief pause.

“Ji-Eun, you should rest for a bit,” Leira said firmly.

“Leira!” Ji-Eun called out to the woman who had been commanding the Operations Bureau.

“The bombardment has stopped. We’ll manage on our own for now,” Leira assured her.

As if to prove it, she entered the infirmary right behind her and grabbed a Recovery Potion.

“Here, Ji-Eun. Drink this. It works well,” she said, handing it over.

“Take it in two doses, thirty minutes apart,” Dmitri added, passing along a round-bellied vial.

Ji-Eun reached out to take it. “Thank you—”

Just then, the ground trembled.

“Huh?” Ji-Eun murmured.

She felt it clearly. The air around her quivered ever so slightly, and the blue glow of her potion flickered and dimmed for a brief moment.

Thump. Thump. Thump—

It felt as though her heart had dropped straight through her chest.

“Unnie?” Yeo-Jin called.

No one else seemed to notice. Warning screamed through all her cells.

Ever since the restructuring had begun, that vague, formless sense of dread had surfaced again and again. It was something she couldn’t touch, let alone explain.

“Unnie!”

Ji-Eun forced herself forward, rushing back onto the battlefield. She flung the door open.

Huff!

A chilling cold swept over her. Like fog rolling in from a dawn sea, a pale, ashen smog had swallowed the battlefield whole.

“C-Chair!” someone stammered.

Friend and foe alike had fallen to their knees, their gazes fixed on a single point. A man stood there with his back clad in battered plate armor. Blood burst forth as he pulled the sword lodged in his side free. Yet despite the wound, he did not so much as stagger.

“Choi Jae-Hyuk.” An old gentleman approached him. “So you’re Choi Jae-Hyuk.”

“And you are...” Jae-Hyuk began.

Beneath the brim of his bowler hat, the man’s red eyes glowed like flames, or perhaps drops of fresh blood. He gave no introduction and yet Jae-Hyuk, Ji-Eun, and even the fallen soldiers all knew who he was.

“It’s a pleasure. My benefactors.” The legendary figure who had rebuilt the world from ruin had appeared. “Thanks to you, I’ve done some reflecting.”

The air grew unbearably heavy. Their feet sank slowly into the dirt, as though gravity itself had intensified.

Was this what an astronaut felt upon first returning to Earth? Every cell in them screamed its presence, weighed down as if each carried a thousand pounds.

“I must admit that I’ve been running the company poorly, to allow something like this to happen.”

Each breath scorched their lungs as it passed through. It felt as though their insides were tearing apart. They had forgotten how to breathe.

“I’ve been too lenient. Wouldn’t you agree?” The chairman’s gaze shifted. “Let me make an example of you. I’ll hang each of your limbs for all to see.”

As his eyes settled on them, a chill shot through them. The fallen and the barely-standing alike trembled. The chairman slowly swept his gaze across them, then paused.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Lee Eun-Ho will not be coming.”

“Huh?!”

“No, more accurately, he cannot come. By now, his matchstick neck should have been snapped clean off.”

“W-what did you do to Hyungnim?!”

In an instant, Jae-Hyuk launched forward like a coiled spring. Watching his back, like that of a charging beast, an inexplicable dread and premonition rose in Ji-Eun.

“Psychokinesis!” she shouted.

The cry came from pure instinct.

Fwoooosh—!

She seized Jae-Hyuk mid-charge, dragging him back toward herself with all her strength. There was no reasoning behind it as there was no time to think.

Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger...

She moved with the razor-thin focus of someone walking barefoot across a blade.

Jae-Hyuk felt just as strange, if not more so, as when Eun-Ho used his Acceleration skill. “Noooooonim?!”

Thud—!

Jae-Hyuk slammed into Ji-Eun, sending them both rolling across the ground.

Thump.

Then, something rolled to a stop beside him. The employee who had been standing next to Jae-Hyuk had rolled over. Cleanly severed at the neck, his head tumbled across the dirt.

“Hiieeek!”

“Aaaaah!”

Screams erupted from all around. From the point where Jae-Hyuk had faced the old man to where he now lay, every single person who had merely stood in that path lost their heads.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The heads rained down.

“Aaaaargh!”

Then, the old gentleman who had caused this massacre was already standing before Ji-Eun. “So it was you. Kim Ji-Eun.”

She staggered back, as though falling into a blood-red abyss.

Please...

She whispered, prayed and stepped back again and again. However, her prayers went unanswered.

“Aaaagh!”

Everything below her knees shattered.

“Y—”

Crunch!

Then, her neck was twisted violently.

“If you want to cage a fledgling bird, you break its wings first.”

“Keugh!”

Her head slammed into the ground, a polished shoe pressing down mercilessly. Dirt filled her mouth.

I have to get away...

Ji-Eun’s vision dimmed as her breath caught in her throat, as if her life were about to flicker past her eyes.

Suddenly, the pressure stopped.

The chairman’s foot froze mid-motion. “How on earth...?”