008. Tribulations (5)
We headed up to the rooftop. It was wide open, offering a sweeping view of Pangyo below. So much had happened, but it was still morning. The empty terrace made that obvious. Han Yu-ra was leaning against the railing, staring endlessly down at the streets.
Was it the emotions? Starting a conversation with her looked tough.
Can't blame her.
Han Yu-ra's full-blown rage wasn't something you saw often. Despite her red hair, she usually crushed opponents with cold logic rather than hot anger.
"Seong-u."
"Yeah?"
"...Maybe I'm not cut out to be CEO."
Her red sidelocks fluttered in the cool breeze. Her eyes looked sad, sunken—and seeing that dragged my mood down too. There was only one thing to say to her.
"Qualifications don't make the CEO."
The closer people are, the harder it is to see their true faces. Especially in tight-knit environments. People you like. People you're comfortable with. People you've known a while. Once you frame them that way in your head, clear human reason crumbles pathetically. You start judging on feelings. You let emotional thinking fester rational problems into abscesses.
Han Yu-ra seemed to finally get it. None of her employees gave a damn about the company.
Kim A-ram, Im Su-yeon, Yoon Se-hee. Not one of the founding members she'd handpicked herself truly acted for the company's sake.
Well... finding people like that is like plucking stars from the sky anyway.
"Maybe I'm just not capable..."
"Capability doesn't make the CEO either."
Skill is essential everywhere. But in business, even the skilled fail all the time. No matter how smart you are, no matter your fancy degrees, plans always shatter. So entrepreneurs need skill and luck. That's the game here.
"Know who I hate most right now?"
"..."
The guy who spent the whole weekend banging Shin Na-young... me?
Thankfully, no. Han Yu-ra said it with a bitter expression.
"Myself."
Yu-ra usually sipped strawberry shakes, but on days like this, she loaded up on caffeine. She took a sip of her Americano and continued.
"I picked them. I promised them a future. I trusted them. I even promised them company shares."
Yeah, she did.
Han Yu-ra had promised shares. But I didn't remember any contracts back then. Too busy? Or too stingy to give up equity? I'd hated that side of her.
But now the tables have turned.
The thought of handing shares to someone like Kim A-ram pissed me off too. And she was the actual owner—how must she feel?
"You didn't sign any contracts anyway."
"Exactly."
Han Yu-ra gave a wry smile.
"I was scared back then. Hell, facing off with investors still terrifies me. So I held back on shares to appease them... But now I wonder if not giving shares made them slack off. Or if distrusting them like this was the smart move."
Not drawing up share agreements had ironically become a huge win for her now. The CEO's deception turning into profit—what a twist.
"You know how capable Kim A-ram was?"
"Yeah."
Having the freedom to trust someone means the freedom to get betrayed. Kim A-ram's first impression was solid. Kind yet cool-headed, with sharp political instincts that kept you on your toes. She hid her thoughts, stuck to work talk—hard to get close, but great to work with. Plus, she was hot.
But that was a mistake.
The antithesis of looks-based hiring.
She wasn't hiding her thoughts. Like a cheap magic trick, the idea of concealment never even entered her head—it just wasn't there from the start. Thinking that far made her terrifying. If I'd been CEO, could I have spotted if she was decent? Would I have created a second Im Seong-u disaster?
"We were bursting with dreams. Everyone worked hard without pay, game talk over drinks made us miss the last train. But... why'd it end up like this? Because of the mobile game?"
Hmm...
Part of me wanted to needle her. Lingering feelings.
Know your biggest problem?
It was... surprisingly her charm. Cliché, but before her, my life felt aimless. Coding features for cash, chasing cheap thrills after work, boozing with friends. Not bad. But no passions, boring dating, dull games. My twenties glittered outside, hollow inside. Just killing time with daily tasks.
Boring as hell.
She changed that.
—Seong-u, ever thought about making a game?
—...
—Together.
Han Yu-ra...
She had a knack for planting dreams.
—Korean games kinda suck, right? Let's make an AAA title. Like Elder Scrolls or Elden Ring.
—How?
—Steal some assets, flesh out character psychologies...
Looking back, her eyes saw dreams, not reality. Not the 10-to-5 office grind, but indie art-game fantasies. Not slaving for big bucks, but the free indie dev outshining corporate execs. She didn't say 10 billion buys a company—she convinced investors with eyes and tone that it rewrote game industry history.
That's who she was. A dreamer who enchanted with visions and starlight. I loved that Yu-ra. Hated her too. And that's why she'd stay a con artist to investors, me, her staff—until she delivered.
Business talent? Plenty.
"...Yu-ra."
"Yeah?"
"I don't think you're lacking as an entrepreneur."
Her personality shifted between office ice queen and bedroom softie. She seemed to crave affectionate words in bed. But reality? She wanted blunt assessments, growth points.
"Be cold about it, Seong-u."
"Luck beyond your experience is rolling in, and you're suffering for it. That's you."
A harsh truth. Her eyes widened.
"You know that game? The one where five-player teams clash in a canyon."
"Yeah."
"Teams are random-matched."
I hadn't gained earth-shattering wisdom in life. But I had one gem. Praying she'd grasp it, I explained.
"Say we score personalities. Rank 'em by percentiles."
"Sure."
"Top 4% tier 1, next 11% tier 2, like that."
I'd once cursed my team luck—in games, group projects, Railroad Software hires. Always a deadweight dragging us down. Felt the world was unfair to me. Till I crunched the numbers.
"What's the odds your company hires a tier-9 personality?"
She frowned. Uncharted territory, probably. Few calculated it in school besides me.
"Factorials I get... but summing multiples? Tricky."
"About 15%."
Hiring four randos? 15.07% chance of at least one tier-9. High stakes—SMEs drop thousands per employee yearly.
"How's working with tier-7 or worse feel?"
"...Exactly like now."
"Hire five—what's the average number of tier-7-or-worse?"
Enlightenment dawned on her face.
"Odds of all five tier-6-or-better 'normals'? Just 27%."
Her hair tousled in the breeze. She'd caught my drift.
"At least one tier-7-or-worse? Over 72%."
"..."
"Blind-pick five people, 72% chance one's a problem. Guaranteed."
Two? 24%. One? 7%. Game-boredom math, but a revelation. Don't trust easy, love easy, give easy. Young lesson: I turned stingy with my heart. Though Yu-ra pierced that wall effortlessly.
Today's takeaway:
"Five people gather, one's an idiot—that's the saying."
"That's..."
"Not a meme. Statistical truth. Odds of zero idiots in your five? Under 20%. Groups, games—to climb, you carry double duty. Fail that 70% case, life stalls."
World's reality. Big corps use long evals to cut loss expectations—worth the effort.
"But Yu-ra."
"Yeah."
"You brought club buddies. No doubts, handed 'em paychecks?"
Decades sharing beds won't reveal hearts. Boozing years? Gambling with cash. She rolled the dice. Great friend, senior—but lousy CEO.
Truth.
"So yeah... some fault's yours. Kim A-ram's the root sin. But as owner, you bear it."
I laid it bare. She sat bitter, silent. Black Americano rippled faintly.
"Probability-wise, say you tier-picked 1,3,5,7,9s. Tier-5 Yoon Se-hee, tier-7 Im Su-yeon, tier-9 Kim A-ram. See your company's mess?"
Snagging 10 billion young? Impressive. Most that age with billions are monsters—sweeping startup contests since freshman year, eng-major coders with money smarts. Yu-ra lucked into it sans monster cred. Hence this mess.
"Thanks, Seong-u. Solid advice."
But she wasn't dumb. High or low IQ, she could change.
"...Oh, and Seong-u. Had to say this."
"...Yeah?"
She fidgeted, words stuck. Serious face—weighty topic.
"Hard to spit out. Maybe I'm the shitty human."
"...What now."
"..."
Suit clung perfectly to her cool facade. She brushed back her red ponytail and asked.
"Not, like, seducing or anything."
Her cheeks flushed faintly.
"Free tonight?"
You know what pisses me off most?
What'd she want? No need to confirm, high disappointment odds. But she stole my night.