003. IRL Dick (4)
Lately, watching Kim A-ram had become somewhat entertaining. Of course, I still hated her. But it wasn't the kind of loathing that made me want to put a bullet through her skull.
How could anyone kill over something like that?
The hell she'd put me through had lasted about a year. I didn't want to murder someone who wasn't the enemy of my parents. I wasn't that ruthless. But if I had just one bullet...
Wouldn't it be fine to shoot one leg?
I wanted to fire a single pistol shot at her—nothing fatal, just to see her reaction.
D-DAY 27.
In the shared office space, walled off by temporary panels on all sides, Kim A-ram fidgeted awkwardly. Shin Na-young, Han Yu-ra, even Im Su-yeon—all regarded her with utterly indifferent stares. By now, everyone knew she'd nuked the server. It was public knowledge, a full-blown storm raging through the company.
What's she gonna say this time? A-ram-ssi.
Kim A-ram turned to me. "Um, developer-nim? I've been thinking... maybe you should just drop the lawsuit?"
"?"
I couldn't believe my ears. Had she lost her mind? Or was I hearing things? She'd spoken perfectly coherent Korean. But my brain refused to parse the meaning.
That brazen attitude, that tone. How could anyone be this shameless?
I stared at her.
"Hones... Honestly, developer-nim! You... you recovered everything already!"
Kim A-ram is a legend.
Undoubtedly, she was.
"A-ram-ssi."
"...Yes?"
Her eyebrows twitched. But she still wouldn't swallow her pride. Admirable, in a twisted way. Imagine if she'd channeled that integrity into something positive.
But no such timeline existed.
"The last server backup was six months ago. I was swamped with deadlines, so I only backed up to Git... unfortunately."
"...Ugh."
A lie, of course. The cloud service had full backups and logging. A few weeks of my work had gone up in smoke, but it wasn't a disaster.
"And the person you need to [apologize to] isn't me. It's CEO Han. The one filing the suit isn't an individual—it's the corporation."
I laid out the facts in a low voice.
"Ugh... ughh!"
Words like "corporation" and "lawsuit" made her shoulders hunch. In truth, Han Yu-ra had already met with a lawyer today.
"The CEO's consulting with the lawyer right now."
"..."
"So if you have something to say, tell the CEO."
With that, Kim A-ram huffed and stormed out.
At least try begging for forgiveness, you bitch.
Whether she did or not... well, whatever.
People process loss in five distinct stages.
The first was denial.
No way. That can't be true. It's all a bluff. Sure, I tried to wipe the company computer—but Im Seong-u's the type who'd never skip backups.
Kim A-ram shook her head. Legally, it was attempted property damage. Under Article 371 of the Criminal Code, even attempting it warranted punishment.
She wandered aimlessly outside.
The second stage: anger.
Kim A-ram stormed back into the building and paced the hallway, groaning to herself. She spun in circles in place, even scrutinized every word on a 2023 startup package pamphlet. Classic anxiety disorder symptoms.
There ain't no law saying this!
Memories of Railroad Software flooded her mind.
"Everyone, we're all family here. Sorry I can't pay overtime, Seong-u-ssi. But I'll make it up to you later... let's tough it out for a year, okay? Really sorry."
"...Maybe give the developer something at least."
"Screw it, Seong-u-ssi! Don't be so stingy. Let's do this, CEO! Big success!"
"Whoa, unnie's so cool!"
"Y... yes... I'll work hard... b-but overtime pay..."
Back then, Im Seong-u had been the office outcast. Sure, she'd made him that way—but still. Now here he was, back and demanding apologies.
Ughhh... Who the hell are you to demand apologies? Programmers like you are a dime a dozen in Pangyo!
Kim A-ram stomped the ground. Only her foot hurt.
The third stage: bargaining.
Attempted... right? Just attempted? No need for damages? Yeah, probably... it'll be fine...
She second-guessed herself endlessly. If the data had truly been lost and her prison sentence locked in, her heart wouldn't be pounding like this. But people always dread the report card more than the test.
Like a dog caged too long at Moran Market, Kim A-ram showed bizarre reactions. Twenty minutes into the loop, tears finally burst forth.
The fourth stage: depression.
"Hic... ugh, ughh... huhh... Mom, Mooom..."
She bolted from the office and called her mom.
Im Seong-u assumed Kim A-ram had no parents, but surprisingly, she was an only child from a normal family. In an era where divorce rates topped 50%, her folks were still together. They hadn't abused her either.
"...Oh! A-ram! It's been ages, sweetie. How've you been?"
Her mother's voice brimmed with love, affection, joy at hearing from her daughter after so long.
"M-Mom... I might go to jail..."
"Wh-what?! Why! Our A-ram going to jail?!"
Sobbing, Kim A-ram spilled the whole story. From the phone, her mother's roar erupted.
"You fool! Go apologize to the CEO right now!"
"Ugh, hic? Why? Whyyy... huhh..."
"Grovel! Even so, you idiot! How could you do that to the boss who paid your salary for a year!"
Kim A-ram's mom had her head screwed on straight. But to her daughter's fragile state, it just felt like scolding.
Kim A-ram hated being scolded.
"It's your own fault! Wasn't it a team effort? Go beg, A-ram... please! Even I never nagged this much!"
"Hic... ugh... even you, Mom... even you're not on my side... sob..."
"Kim A-ram! Don't hang up!"
"Mom... you don't get it... it's a generation gap..."
What she needed was warm comfort. A single word of empathy.
But how could the world be so cold and cruel?
Kim A-ram started sobbing again.
Hic... huhh... Dad... Daaaad...
She called her dad—the one she usually ignored. Desperation overrode everything.
"Yeah, A-ram. What's up?"
"Hic... ugh... Dad, I might go to jail..."
"Why!"
Even ignored by his daughter, a father's paternal love endured. He shouted.
"Who bullied you?!"
"This guy named Im Seong-u..."
She explained everything. But her parents weren't idiots.
So why had Kim A-ram turned out like this? God rolls the dice randomly—that's why.
Born that way. What could you do?
"Listen to me carefully from now on."
"...Okay, Dad."
"Go kneel and beg right now."
"Dad."
Tears streamed down her face. Rage boiled over.
"You've never helped my life—not once!"
Of course, he'd paid her college tuition, her rent, pocket money till twenty-five. But parents who drew the short straw with kids had no recourse.
Her mom had cried tears of joy seeing all five fingers on her newborn. Now Kim A-ram preached anti-natalism.
She slumped on a bench, sobbing another thirty minutes. Not what they paid her for, but anyway.
Finally, the fifth stage arrived: acceptance.
Facing loss head-on and acknowledging it.
Yeah. My life's over.
Kim A-ram returned to the office. Clocked out without permission.
"See you."
People stared in confusion, but ties are fleeting—no one stopped her.
Hands in pockets, she walked the windy street. The sky burned yellow. Time for a last supper with her remaining cash.
That was her plan. She plopped down at some random pork belly joint.
"Welcome."
"Auntie, two portions of premium pork belly and soju, please."
"Sure thing."
Sizzle! Perfectly heated grill, pork belly crisping with mouthwatering aroma. Soon golden-brown, oozing savory fat, shrinking tenderly. That firm meat looked irresistible.
Gulp.
Even in extremity, hunger gnawed. She was at that ravenous age.
A-ram... you did your best... good job.
Could pork belly go without soju? She cracked a bottle, poured into a clear glass.
One word: "Cheers..."
Laugh, and the world laughs with you.
Weep, and you weep alone.
"CHEERSSSS!"
A brief toast. Facing despair, yet vowing to charge forward—Kim A-ram's declaration.
She slammed it back. "Ahhh—!"
Life's a solo grind. Can't trust anyone.
Maybe because a lawsuit loomed, but the booze tasted sweet today.
The booze is sweet?
Sweet booze means, A-ram...
Today's been memorable.
She plagiarized a drama line effortlessly. The only thing she hadn't ripped off was her ruthless monetization model that scammed users.
Tears surged suddenly.
"Hic... ughh... huuhh...!"
By 4 p.m., she'd demolished two portions. Belly full, her starved brain finally churned a thought.
...If there's a backup, I can fight. No backup, life's fucked...
She headed back to the office. Last gamble: sneak into Im Seong-u's computer, hunt for backups.
Yeah, too early to quit! Don't give up! You can do it, Kim A-ram!
Clop clop. She marched toward the hated Railroad Software office. Her life rode on this theft.
"...?"
Something odd caught her eye. People at a café: Han Yu-ra, Im Seong-u... and a familiar middle-aged couple.
...Why?
She rubbed her eyes.
"M-Mom?"
Mom? No—her actual mom and dad.
"Honey."
"...Yeah."
Kim A-ram's parents spoke on the phone, voices drained. Years raising their spoiled only child flashed by.
The mom spoke. "Honey... did you talk to the lawyer?"
"Yeah..."
Dad delivered grim news. What she'd done was property damage—not some civil slap on the wrist. Criminal code violation. Their lawyer friend had already prepped.
> Deleting a few files—such a big deal?
> Previous generation guy. Didn't grasp what files meant in a game dev firm: employees' lifeblood, their entire fortune.
> Still counts as property damage. For software companies, that's the whole asset.
> Could run up to ten billion. With investors involved...
> Ten... billion?! Thought max a few hundred million. Only four employees...
> Angel Ventures. If CEO brings their lawyers... it'll escalate. Sorry.
Mom sighed deeply, darkly.
"H-Honey, what do we do?"
"Dunno. Honestly."
Dad was smart—IQ 120. But even that couldn't predict this.
Surely backups exist...
They'd thought so, but daughter's tale hinted she'd wiped those too.
Faces darkened. Dad downed soju. Tasted bitter today.
> Security manager's fault too?
> In this case, happened while manager was away... tricky.
> 'Company's security manager was Im Seong-u... crime struck when he was gone.'
> Still, she bypassed security and caused damage. Court won't look kindly.
"Honey... shouldn't we... go see them?"
Worst solution. Old-school. But all they had.
"Doubt it'll help. She's not a kid anymore... this ain't school. It's a company."
"Still! Our daughter's in trouble—we can't just sit!"
Pure 90s melodrama. But that's how their generation rolled. Kids got whacked on palms for mischief. Obeyed seniors. Bribed teachers. Grinded academy fees for top colleges.
Dad gritted his teeth.
"Yeah... at least beg for leniency..."
And so began the tearful prostration show.