003. Real Fuckup (1)

The night Railroad Software's server went up in smoke.

The aftermath of the accident, which happened just a month before the open beta, was catastrophic. It wasn't just the server that exploded. CEO Han Yu-ra's outfit burst open too, and her hymen went with it. They say dreaming of explosions is a good omen, but unfortunately, this was no dream—it was harsh reality.

So, who was the culprit behind blowing up the server that day? None other than Kim A-ram.

She'd been acting all high and mighty right from the start of programming work.

"Shin Na-young, how come someone with a degree doesn't even know this basic stuff? It's just simple inheritance."

"..."

"See? It's so easy like this! Right?"

"But that messes up the code structure..."

"Who cares about structure right now?!"

Kim A-ram was brimming with arrogance. Having dabbled in Python once, she lorded even that tiny bit of knowledge over everyone. Her ego really swelled after she coincidentally fixed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one problem.

"See? It works!"

Im Su-yeon's adoring gaze fueled her, while Shin Na-young wore a defeated look. That was more than enough to send A-ram into full-blown self-delusion.

She entered a trance. 'Why do 90% of people fail while only 10% succeed?'

And then the delusions kicked in. 'Because 90% of people slack off!'

A-ram hadn't always been like this. Hard to believe, but she used to be a capable planner. Small company life ruined her, though. With such a tiny outfit, whenever devs lagged, planners twiddled their thumbs. She'd gotten used to working just four hours a day and pocketing over 300k won. That leisure bred her hubris.

'90% of people clock out, chug beers with friends without a second thought, grind ranked matches, binge movies and dramas.'

'But what if they invested even 10 minutes in programming? Swapped YouTube Shorts for self-improvement?'

'Small habits compound like interest into massive gains. That's the secret to success.'

Suddenly, A-ram felt immensely proud of herself. She looked down on her Railroad Software colleagues—they all seemed pathetic.

'That's how I became a planner who can code too. And what about you losers?'

She already saw herself as a top-tier planner. Even if she got fired from here, she could land a big corp gig, no sweat. Yesterday's self-help YouTube vid swirled chaotically in her head.

'Smile, and the world smiles with you. Cry, and you cry alone.'

Dopamine surged. Sure, she wasted hours after work too. But self-justification starts by ignoring inconvenient truths.

A-ram thought positively. 'I'm a bit different from you guys.'

But excessive arrogance breeds mistakes. Fiddling around solo, she committed an irreparable fuckup.

'Oh, fuck.'

Having coded once before, she had a rough idea.

'This is a Git issue...!'

When multiple people tweak code, conflicts arise. Say Shin Na-young codes "Spacebar makes Mario jump." Then A-ram codes "Spacebar makes Mario attack." Boom—collision.

Git solves that. Easy history views, rollbacks to pre-edit versions. It handles conflicts and backups too. Most screw-ups? Just revert. Simple.

The problem? A-ram blindly followed some internet tutorial and initialized Git without thinking.

'W-wait. Fuck, fuck.'

She frantically poked around for recovery. But like any noob, more issues piled up.

'...I fucked it all up.'

If this got out, her "competent planner-who-codes" image was toast.

"Do we have a backup system on the server?"

"Of course. Backups, plus dev activity logs."

She recalled Im Seong-u's old words. Panic set in. If Shin Na-young dug into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the dev PC...

Guilty as charged. Time for a pivot.

'If I can't have it, no one can.'

She nuked the server.

"Hoo..."

Her heart pounded, then calmed. 'Perfect crime.'

Einstein said nothing's faster than light in special relativity. A-ram's rationalizations were faster.

'Doomed company anyway.'

Im Seong-u quit. Open beta loomed in a month. Han Yu-ra was panicking. Newbie Shin Na-young was useless. Investors would hound them to bankruptcy.

'Started as a club. Han Yu-ra lucked into funding.'

She'd spin it positive. No accountability for her—just quit. No regrets after a year of paychecks.

Next day, Im Su-yeon snitched.

"Yesterday, Shin Na-young was just staring at the client... A-ram unnie was the last one on the server."

No fear. She'd already prepped her job hunt.

"Phew... One more line on the resume. Fucking Shin Na-young, rude-ass Han Yu-ra, backstabbing Im Su-yeon, that prick Im Seong-u who hated me. Take a good look."

On her way home, spring rain drizzled. A-ram smiled.

'A month from full open beta today...'

She romanticized the world. 'Wind howls, chilling rain lashes the bus window. Storm's brewing. I said nothing to Im Su-yeon, who betrayed me yesterday and today. Shin Na-young. Im Su-yeon. Han Yu-ra. Yoon Se-hee. Time will tell who's trash—you or me.'

And the next day.

Im Seong-u got summoned to the office.

...

Shin Na-young's mood was rock bottom that day. She knew Kim A-ram fucked up. But lacked the know-how to prove it, and Han would shoulder the blame alone. Too cruel.

'I tried my best.'

Sepiros Online was a great game. A-ram was a moron, but her monetization was diabolically brilliant. Random gacha soul-crushed players, bottomless exploitation bred despair. Sly as hell.

Im Su-yeon poured soul into illustrations. Her obsession with black stockings' texture on the heroine bordered on madness.

And Yoon Se-hee? Socially awkward, but animation genius. Every collectible girl's expression and motion breathed life.

'Such a good game.'

Legend says painter Solgeo drew a pine on Hwangnyongsa Temple's wall—birds flew in and bashed their heads dead. Su-yeon and Se-hee's girls were that level. Cuter than real women, after all.

'Just fix the bugs... But I can't even do that...'

Na-young wallowed in self-loathing. Kim A-ram shattered the miracle this budget and team could never achieve. Her own incompetence stung.

'Hope Han pulls through.'

She moped. Han Yu-ra genuinely loved Sepiros Online. Obvious. Talked faster about it, cheeks flushing—blood pumping proof. Her sincerity made everyone root for her.

'I...'

Wanted to give it a real shot. Low pay, clumsy work, endless trial-and-error—just wanted to make a game.

But that dream betrayed her how?

'Can't someone help? Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be here...'

She thought of Im Seong-u.

Once, Na-young bombed a mock exam. Home was hell; Dad spewed hurtful shit.

"You gonna make it, you bitch?"

"..."

"Why study? Thick-skulled cunt. Girls like you don't go to college. Fix your face and get married."

Senior year. Self-esteem in the gutter.

"Thinking of suicide?" She'd turn away at the question. Depressing times.

One day, staring at blue sky, she asked Seong-u:

"Seong-u, I feel stupid... Why can't I study right?"

Usually cheery, that day her limits gutted her. Maybe success needed genius IQ.

But his reply surprised.

"...What does 'stupid' mean?"

"...Huh?"

"Define stupid. Slow on the uptake? Spatial reasoning? Math? Logic? Language?"

His smile warmed like sunlight.

"If you're stupid, how can you judge how stupid you are?"

"..."

"Poor grades don't mean low IQ. Don't beat yourself up over baseless shit. Plenty of Seoul U grads broke as hell."

Maybe I should've confessed then, Na-young thought.

"Haa..."

But Seong-u wasn't beside her.

'I'm... breaking...'

Physically, mentally maxed. The planner ragged her constantly. Solo overtime, no help. Company sinking slow.

What if Seong-u were here?

'Seong-u...'

Her childhood friend, planter of dreams. Way better coder, smart and shining. Only one who cheered her coding, never discouraged. Feelings felt dependency—guilty.

'Please help just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠once...'

Na-young debated calling, then set phone down. Good call—Seong-u was swamped with Han Yu-ra stuff, likely no pickup.

And next day.

Im Seong-u showed at the office.

...

First day back. My job: recover server files. Felt off. Non-coders make wild mistakes, sure. But total server wipe? Too contrived. Wouldn't happen unless someone deliberately deleted.

'Someone nuked the server files.'

Typical small biz server: two copies. Dev PC and server. But dev PC files trashed bad. Looked manually erased, disguised as error.

I frowned. Sniff sniff. Smelled like malicious crime.

Felt eyes—glanced at Kim A-ram. She whipped head away, whistling.

'This bitch.'

Messing up and covering by deleting? Normal folks wouldn't, but A-ram? Far from normal.

'Big fight with Han Yu-ra, right.'

Yeah, her—plausible for sabotage.

Digging server logs an hour...

'Gotcha, you slut.'

I nailed the perp.

"Han, got a sec?"

"Sure."

I called the CEO first.