This is Fucked! ~Hope Arc~ (10) Major Fuckup
A major fuckup. That was a term originating from the Korean Marines. "Chinppa" generally meant a "mistake," with roots in "zetsuumiashi chinba" (chinba/jimba/zimba).
Last night, the Railroad Software employees had committed a massive one.
"The server... it's gone."
The result was catastrophic. Han Yu-ra shouted, veins bulging on her forehead.
"What does that mean? Explain it properly. Right now!"
"The, uh, files on the server."
"..."
Han Yu-ra's expression twisted into something demonic. Shin Na-young, stepping up like a squad leader, shrank back but laid out the company's harsh truth.
"The files on the server... um... they're... gone."
Even Han Yu-ra, who was close to tech-illiterate herself, felt her irritation boiling over. Gone? What did "gone" even mean? Vanished into thin air like in some novel? Did the files grow legs and escape through the LAN cable or something?
A stabbing migraine pierced Han Yu-ra's temples. It felt like her period had come back despite it having just ended.
She grilled her employees. "If the files were deleted..."
"..."
"Isn't there a Recycle Bin? Restore them from there or... whatever."
"P-President. The server OS isn't Windows... it's Linux."
What the hell does that have to do with anything?
"So?"
"Can't recover them."
Trivia time! Servers typically run on Linux because it's lighter than Windows, easier to manage security-wise, and above all, free. The Railroad game server that Im Seong-u had built also used CentOS 7, a variant of Linux. Linux doesn't support a Recycle Bin by default (barring some GUIs), so deleting files there meant they were gone for good.
"Linux doesn't have a Recycle Bin."
Han Yu-ra wanted to tear something apart. Just ten days ago, things had been so serious, but now her life had devolved from tragedy into comedy.
"Why not?"
"Uh, well, it just... doesn't. Originally."
Her three employees were useless. The people on payroll suddenly looked like the Three Stooges—or rather, Three Sisters of Incompetence.
Han Yu-ra's frontal lobe throbbed with pain. No headache pill would fix this easily.
"So, what now? What are we supposed to do?"
"Luckily, the server development files are still intact..."
As Shin Na-young hemmed and hawed, Han Yu-ra snapped.
"What? Then just move those files back to the server and we're done, right?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
The three programmers stared at the floor.
"Even... even if we do that, it doesn't work well."
Han Yu-ra sat there dumbfounded. Her patience had reached its limit.
"Then why are there no files on the server now?"
"..."
"Just because it won't run doesn't mean the files vanish."
"That's..."
Han Yu-ra spoke up. No one answered.
She glanced at the stuffy ceiling of the Pangyo office and sighed.
"Isn't this a bit much? Huh?"
"..."
"If you have mouths, say something!"
She usually had a cool, composed demeanor. She never raised her voice and even scolded gently, which was enough to command the room.
But right now, Han Yu-ra was completely broken.
BAM!
"Ah, you fucking— Are you messing with me right now?"
Han Yu-ra slammed the desk. Her frayed mentality had shattered entirely. She berated her employees like Adolf Hitler in the final days of WWII.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Her fist bruised, but she didn't stop. The staff cowered in terror. Even Shin Na-young, who'd endured all sorts of abuse at the hospital, bowed her head silently.
CRASH.
But Kim A-ram didn't shut her trap.
"Hey... calm down, Yu-ra. We still have hope left."
"What?"
Hope? Hopes and dreams.
Han Yu-ra ground her teeth. She barely suppressed her madness.
"What hope?"
"If we work hard, we can restore the server. Then we can somehow meet the deadline."
"Work hard? Did you just say 'work hard'? Hey, Kim A-ram. What about scouting other employees?"
"They all said the timeline's too short, hardware issues."
Han Yu-ra clutched her head. Then, like a high schooler who'd bombed finals, she slumped over the desk.
No one among the staff made a sound. Han Yu-ra spoke very slowly.
"...We didn't back up the server, did we?"
"We're... looking into ways right now."
Shin Na-young's reply.
Yeah, that explains why everyone pulled an all-nighter.
Han Yu-ra was too mentally drained to seek solutions immediately. So she barked at her employees imperiously.
"Tell me."
In the trashed office, Han Yu-ra said, "Who was the last one to work on the server?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
No one testified when asked. Han Yu-ra's head cooled icily. It felt like schizophrenia. Her heart pounded, but her mind was razor-sharp—hot chest, cold head, the mark of a true woman. But saying that to her face right now would get you killed without recourse.
Then, the detestable Kim A-ram rolled her eyes and spoke. If she weren't somewhat attractive, she'd be dead already.
"Ahem. Last I remember... it was Shin Na-young."
Kim A-ram's words. Shin Na-young glared at her in shock.
"No, you were the last one to touch the AWS console, sis."
"...But does touching that make the server files vanish?"
"I didn't do anything weird!"
Silence.
Their gazes turned to Yoon Se-hee, who was fiddling with 3D models. Watching this, Han Yu-ra felt nauseous.
Even here, they're playing politics?
It was absurd. Was this the National Assembly? If they were going to scheme like that, why not become politicians instead of sticking around her company?
Han Yu-ra gnashed her teeth.
Just to avoid getting chewed out by me? In this situation?
Kim A-ram was good at planning. Im Su-yeon drew well. Yoon Se-hee animated capably. But so what? Did excelling in one area make the company succeed? Hell no.
Yoon Se-hee sniffled, but Kim A-ram's teeth, aimed at dodging blame, were sharp.
"Uh, I, I didn't touch it..."
"Se-hee."
"..."
"You holding a grudge against us or something?"
"...N-no."
Yoon Se-hee shrank back. Born with communication issues, she was easy prey. Plus her odd fear of Kim A-ram made it worse.
Kim A-ram approached her. Company be damned, as long as blame didn't land on her.
"You're hiding something, right? Se-hee?"
"No... sis. Yesterday I didn't touch the server... just the client."
"Tell the truth, Se-hee. Do you resent our company? Is it because I was a bit distant usually—"
"No!!!"
Yoon Se-hee shrieked through tears. The sudden volume spike. That hysterical, pent-up scream made everyone flinch. A quiet comms-disordered loner girl suddenly yelling had massive impact.
Like... awakening sealed power...!
"Sob, sniff! I didn't! Hic! I didn't! I didn't do iiiit!!! I didn't, fuck! Why are you doing this to me! Hic, heee! Aaaah!!!"
Im Su-yeon instinctively hugged Yoon Se-hee. Her eyes, steeped in dark, sticky madness, looked ready to stab someone. The office filled with a borderline personality disorder vibe.
They stared at each other.
Shin Na-young seized the opening to counterattack. "Sis, why frame Se-hee as the culprit?"
Kim A-ram glared unpleasantly at Shin Na-young.
"Ha. Really, hilarious. Na-young, no respect for elders? Fucking funny."
But only Kim A-ram laughed. Good thing she wasn't a comedian, or the company would've tanked like a Gag Concert flop.
"Sis, speak straight. You're sweating bullets—suspicious as hell."
"That's evidence? Na-young?"
"...No one left to verify evidence anyway?"
"Ha. Did you dig up evidence like that at your old hospital? Hilarious."
As their argument heated up, Im Su-yeon—sensing the power shift—raised her hand in an L-shape like she had something to say.
"Um... excuse me... sissies..."
Han Yu-ra, Kim A-ram, Shin Na-young—even Yoon Se-hee—glared irritably at her. Always Kim A-ram's ass-kisser, so probably more of the same.
But her words shattered expectations.
"Yesterday, Shin Na-young was just on the client...! A-ram sis was the last on the server."
"..."
"..."
Betrayal! Kim A-ram stared at Im Su-yeon like How could you?
But Im Su-yeon's face was cold. She popped her earbuds back in and stared at her monitor. A person's back says a lot. Like Zoro's back in One Piece screaming responsibility, Im Su-yeon's silent focus on illustrations screamed, I'm just an illustrator, I don't code. No clue. Dunno, just work and go home.
She was the only one who hadn't pulled an all-nighter.
"You... how could you? How can someone be so two-faced?"
Watching this spectacle, Han Yu-ra felt utter despair. Everything seemed meaningless. What was the point of this? Was her business a fucking slapstick comedy?
Gazing at this pointless squabble, Han Yu-ra hurt deep inside.
I'm the only one who was serious.
Suddenly, the company felt like a joke. Ten days ago, when CEO Han Yu-ra talked to Im Seong-u on the phone, her emotions had been dead serious. She'd staked her life on apologizing to the person she'd wronged and tried to bring him back.
But seeing this circus, even a bitter laugh wouldn't come.
This is... a company?
Yes. That was fucked.
Han Yu-ra collapsed into her chair.
....
"Go home. All of you."
Dismissing them like they were worthless, Han Yu-ra went to a bar alone. A year of hard work, reduced to nothing.
She was terrified.
...Billions is real money. What now... sue them?
She could really be fucked now. Delaying open beta might not trigger a lawsuit immediately. But delaying open beta with an empty server? What would the investor's tech auditor think of Railroad Software?
That thought made goosebumps ripple down Han Yu-ra's back. Tears burst from fear.
"...Hic, sob... sniff..."
Her dream smacked her upside the head. Business wasn't for flower-garden dreamers. It demanded ruthless, cold self-emptying.
Han Yu-ra shouldn't have slacked.
I idiotically threw away Im Seong-u.
Stress, investor pressure, pathetic staff, open beta hype—she'd burned out.
"Sob... sniff..."
Han Yu-ra was only twenty-four. For the first time, she thought she wasn't CEO material.
...This won't do.
CEOs aren't born. They're made. Han Yu-ra had to overcome this crisis somehow. No holding back on means or methods. Even if it was luck-based success. Even if her skills fell short. This was her first career shot. She was determined to succeed.
For that, she'd try anything—anything.
Grind.
Han Yu-ra clenched her teeth. She stood up.
You're the only one who can save the company now.
Drunk and desperate, Han Yu-ra was capable of anything. On a drizzly spring evening, asphalt glistening fresh under dim streetlights as umbrella-toting people passed by.
She headed to Im Seong-u's house.
"Hoo..."
She felt disgusted with herself for what she was about to do. Sorry, regretful, humiliating.
But no choice. Han Yu-ra made the call.