Surviving Restructuring

Soeju swallowed a quiet sigh as he guided a group of employees into the room. Each of them were about as small and unassuming as himself.

“Sir! Are you running some new experiment again?”

“Well, something like that. Anyway, you just need to sign something here. If you don’t feel like it, you don’t have to.”

Calling his employees all the way here and asking them to consent to some mysterious document was, frankly, embarrassing. He was certain they would do as he said. Still, it was a matter of pride. It felt unpleasant, like he was begging for a favor.

Still, what choice did he have? He couldn’t very well ask the division chief to go gather people for him. Moreover, somehow, he’d gotten swept up in the momentum of it all.

“What do we do for the thumbprints?” one of the people from the group asked.

“Oh, over here,” Eun-Ho replied.

Whether or not he understood Soeju’s inner turmoil, Lee Eun-Ho—the root of it all—was brisk and efficient.

“Could you hold out your hand?” Eun-Ho asked.

“Why do you need my hand?” an unassuming employee asked.

“I’ll apply ink so you can leave a thumbprint. It’s volatile ink that disappears after, so it’s better than a regular ink pad.”

“Oh, this is our new product, you know. Real neat, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s excellent,” Eun-Ho replied.

Why on earth are they carefully applying ink to each person’s finger and having them stamp thumbprints one by one? Is this really how it’s supposed to work?

Soeju was suspicious, but not confident enough to object. After all, he’d never handled consent forms for an entire workforce before.

“All done. Thank you,” Lee Eun-Ho replied.

“Then we’ll—”

“Go on. Get back to work,” Soeju said.

“Yes! See you later, Sir! And see you again, Division Chief!”

“Very well.” As he saw the employees off, Soeju stole a glance at the division chief.

Judging by the gleam in his eyes, the man seemed to be enjoying this situation.

He’s actually having fun, Soeju thought.

There was no doubt about it. Otherwise, why would the division chief go as far as suppressing his presence? He even waited quietly so the employees wouldn’t feel pressured.

So I’m the only one inconvenienced. Again.

As Soeju grumbled inwardly, Eun-Ho smiled gently. “So you’re the CEO. That explains it.”

“I only hold the title. It doesn’t mean much,” Soeju replied.

“Managing staff on top of research and crafting items must be exhausting. That’s impressive. You’re too modest.”

“I don’t really do much. I’m just a technician.”

Eun-Ho’s eyes sparkled as he refilled the glass. “Your technical skill is exceptional.”

Soeju merely shrugged. “That’s the bare minimum.”

One with exceptional skill, a monopolistic supplier shaped by the market, and a once-in-a-generation genius who drove ignorant latecomers into despair—Soeju had heard it all countless times. Such flattery no longer stirred anything in Soeju, sounding no different from a greeting.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but...” Eun-Ho, who had been observing him closely, hesitated before continuing

“Most technicians are difficult to work with.”

“What?” Soeju’s lean face twisted.

Truthfully, “Difficult to work with,” “Sensitive,” and “Needlessly picky,” were labels he’d been stuck with his entire life.

Irritation flared as Soeju pushed over his empty glass. “Don’t say pointless things—”

However, Eun-Ho immediately refilled it. “But you’re different, Mr. Soeju.”

“In what way?”

“You were born with both skill and temperament.”

“Huh?!” Soeju being sensitive was something everyone knew. In fact, he had heard it so often that he’d practically developed a complex over it, becoming even worse as a result. “What are you talking about?”

“You can tell by how your employees act. It’s obvious you treat them comfortably.”

“Haha. You’ve got a good eye,” the division chief said, laughing. “He may not look it, but he’s soft-hearted.”

“Right? That’s what I thought,” said Eun-Ho.

It was an approach Soeju had never even imagined.

“I’ll be counting on you with the next group as well,” Eun-Ho added.

Therefore, Soeju found himself nodding without realizing it. “Fine.”

Just then, the next group arrived.

“Sir! We’re here!”

“What do we need to do?”

Somehow, Soeju’d ended up personally guiding them. “Oh, uh, sit here and sign.”

Eun-Ho seemed genuinely impressed, his eyes sparkling as if he’d discovered a priceless gem. “Things really move smoothly since you’re so close with them. Thank you.”

Soeju felt an odd pressure to live up to that expectation. “It’s not really like that—”

“Oh, look, the next group’s here!” Eun-Ho interjected.

“Sir! They’re asking us to sign something—”

Soeju guided them and the next group. “Uh, yeah. Here, here, and here. Sign, then leave a thumbprint.”

“How do we do the thumb—”

“Over here. I’ll apply the ink. Stamp it, then call in the next group.”

“Ah... Alright, understood.”

The pace kept accelerating.

Huh? Something feels a little off... Soeju thought.

“Oh, the next team’s here. Please guide them, sir,” Eun-Ho reminded Soeju.

“Huh? Oh. Right. This way...”

There was no time to even think about how strange this was. Maybe he’d simply adapted to the conveyor-belt-like system.

“Then we’ll head back to our office!”

“Have a great day, Sir!”

After the final group left, only a pile of signed forms remained.

Eun-Ho stared at them with his mouth agape in admiration. “Wow. Maybe it’s because you treat them so well, but your employees all looked genuinely happy. Don’t they fight over the chance to work under you?”

For some reason, a sense of pride welled up inside Soeju, and he drained another glass. “Well, there are plenty of people lining up to work under me.”

It was such a hassle, but at least it’s over, or so Soeju thought.

“I knew it! If that’s the case...” Eun-Ho smiled warmly and passed something over to Soeju, “I’ll leave these consent forms with you, so please get signatures from the others as well.”

“Huh? Isn’t this enough?”

Eun-Ho’s eyes sparkled as if embedded with stars. “I’m counting on you, Sir!”

“W-wait. That’s a bit—all right.”

Something feels very wrong, Soeju thought.

***

“Consent status.”

[Checking the progress of the Agreement to Establish a Labor-Management Council.]

As the flat announcement ended, a blue window rose into view.

[Consent Progress]

- Number of signatures: 81

- Progress: 0%

- Reward: establishment of a public council regarding ‘Improvement of Employees’ Working Environment’

- Sub-trials:

1. Obtain 100 signatures(Incomplete)

2. Obtain 1,000 signatures(Incomplete)

3. Obtain 10,000 signatures(Incomplete)

...

For some reason, the progress still sat at a horrifying zero percent.

Still, not bad for a first step, Eun-Ho thought.

At the very least, he had identified the “anonymous observer.” Besides, his original plan had been to get signatures from Soeju and the division chief as proof that they were on the same boat. Who would’ve expected Soeju to drag in his employees as well?

Things worked out nicely.

He’d only meant to prepare a blank canvas for a grand plan, yet somehow ended up with premium paints and an easel thrown in as a set.

I just need nineteen more to reach one hundred.

That was hardly an intimidating number. As he was about to head back and start planning with his team, Guk Ryang said in a heavy voice, “Standing out too much isn’t wise.”

The tone sounded almost like a reprimand, yet concern was woven into the depth of his voice.

“You’ll have your own path. But until it becomes a proper road, even a broom can sweep it away. That, too, is the fate of a path.”

Therefore, Eun-Ho replied gently, “I agree. I have no intention of acting openly.”

“And yet you revealed yourself to us the very first day.”

“Because I judged the two of you to be trustworthy.”

“And you’re confident that judgment wasn’t premature?”

Once they’d decided to share a boat, a minimum level of trust was necessary.

“You gave gifts instead of trials to test potential,” Eun-Ho said. “I believed that meant you were good people.”

Guk Ryang’s brow twisted subtly. “Hearing it put that way makes me feel a bit guilty.”

“About what, exactly?”

“I never said I didn’t give you trials.”

“Sorry?”

Had he given trials as well? Was it the first Golem incident? No, that was Iro’s doing... Wait a second... Eun-Ho thought.

One unresolved issue came rushing back to him.

[Choi Seung: There were quite a few suspicious individuals.]

There was one who had interfered during the Neverland trial while Eun-Ho was undergoing Management Bureau OJT.

[Caution!]

[The Giant Baboon’s defensive system has been activated!]

[Brace for impact!]

Guk Ryang was the one who had transplanted his own defensive system directly onto a monster.

“That was you, Division Chief?”

“I thought you needed a bit of danger.”

Eun-Ho leaned back slightly from where he’d been hunched forward as he asked, “Ah. By a bit, you mean nearly getting fried by an electric shock?”

Guk Ryang answered awkwardly, “But thanks to that, you absorbed the Lightning Oil, didn’t you?”

“That’s true. I almost died, though.”

“And if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have unlocked it.”

“Unlocked? You mean—”

[Conditions met.]

[Reconstructing the human body.]

[Overcoming the innate limits of the vessel.]

[You have retrieved the title Heaven Shatterer!]

[Congratulations!]

[The trait-exclusive skill, Bolt from the Blue, has been unlocked.]

Guk Ryang was probably referring to that skill.

“I can’t explain everything right now,” Guk Ryang said, “but just know there was a reason.”

“A reason I can’t accept isn’t much of a reason, is it?”

“Haha. That’s also true.”

Eun-Ho had nearly died, but it had been for a good cause? Looking at the man’s awkward expression, which was so ill-fitting for his massive frame and overwhelming presence, Eun-Ho sensed no deception or pretense.

“Wanting to trust doesn’t mean I can.”

It was a roundabout way of saying “Show me proof.”

“Well then... That would be appropriate,” Guk Ryang stroked his beard. “Come by this fellow’s shop sometime.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll fix that armor with the defense system.”

[Exquisite Flame Dragon’s Scale Chestplate]

- A chestplate crafted from the scales of the Exquisite Flame Dragon.

- While the material is top-tier, the crude assembly limits its potential.

- Increases Defense by +30.

- Special Effects: Rechargeable Electrical Discharge

Eun-Ho’s scale cuirass was made using top-tier materials. However, it was criticized for its sloppy joints. Now, if a master craftsman were to fix it himself, that had to be pretty good.

Having made a decision, a smile returned to Eun-Ho’s face. “I’ll appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Huh? And where exactly is my opinion in all th—ah, n-never mind, Division Chief.” Soeju had tried to joke, failed miserably, and promptly backed down before turning to Eun-Ho. “You’ll need to set aside a whole day, so come by on a day off. If I told you to just leave it here, you’d obviously be suspicious.”

“Yes. If you let me know beforehand, I’ll adjust my schedule and come by.”

“Good. I’ll contact you.”

Maybe it was hindsight talking, but this type of intervention didn’t seem so bad.

“Shall we get going?” Soeju said first, probably realizing that staying longer would only be a hassle for him.

Guk Ryang fell silent for a moment, as if thinking something over.

“If you secure ten percent consent and establish a labor union...” A heavy, chilling voice that was different from before settled over the table. “What do you plan to do next?”

The wine in the full glass sloshed. With it came a wave of pressure, sharp enough to make the fine hairs on Eun-Ho skin stand on end. Still, Eun-Ho wasn’t completely unfamiliar with him.

[An anonymous observer is curious to see how you’ll overcome this situation.]

[An anonymous observer is extremely satisfied with your performance.]

[An anonymous observer smiles contentedly at your steady growth]

Based on what he had seen so far, the anonymous observer was curious about how he would overcome trials, and satisfied with what he’d accomplished with his own hands. Moreover, he watched Eun-Ho’s growth with quiet approval.

Recalling that, he asked calmly, just as he always had. “Are you asking how far I intend to go?”

“Yes. What’s your ultimate goal?”

“Overturning everything.”

He was ready to break the predetermined mold, turn the board upside down, and overturn this rotten company entirely.

“From the top brass to the lowest rung, everything will get dismantled and rebuilt. So come with me.”

If it was a failed path, they could turn back. If it was a road no one had ever walked, they could make it themselves. Eun-Ho urged him to walk it together.

Clasp.

A thick hand closed around the one Eun-Ho extended. Then, his very first real connection said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

***

“I had a great time today,” said Soeju.

“So did I. Let’s keep in touch, Mr. CEO,” Eun-Ho replied.

“CEO? That’s enough already.”

Waving the stack of signed forms in his hand, Soeju followed behind Guk Ryang through the door.

Eun-Ho was about to follow when a greasy voice flew at the back of his head. “Eu-No? You’re Ee-No, right? Hey!”

It was Butter, dressed in an outrageously flashy outfit drowning in frills and gold embroidery, as though determined to hoard all the world’s extravagance.

“How dare you ignore a senior again!? Don’t you know I am as lofty as the heavens?!”

Didn’t Butter say he was going to have dinner with the director? It appeared like he ended up at the same restaurant. Moreover, the moron was so drunk, he was practically slurring.

And the director isn’t here? Eun-Ho thought. And you’re seriously calling yourself lofty as the heavens? Oh, come on.

Eun-Ho wasn’t sure whether to click his tongue at the so-called heavenly superior, or at the director who’d left him alone in this state.

“Doesn’t this place, hic, manage who enters at all, hic? Where’d this beggar trash hic—”

Yeah, I guess that part of the company is really lacking, Eun-Ho thought.

“You must’ve, hic, heard the news!”

“I did.”

At Eun-Ho’s reply, Butter lifted his chin. Then, his legs wobbled, making him look ridiculous.

“Eun-Ho? What’s going on?”

Well, being left alone could actually be good for Eun-Ho. He wouldn’t want to end a meal that cost thirty-thousand Points on such an ugly note.

“Ah. There was a rat, that’s all.”