Regret Always Comes Too Late
Right after quitting.
Outside Dohun's house.
Standing before the door lock, Dohun couldn't bring himself to move — like a cow being led to slaughter.
"Hey… Minjun."
"What."
"If I actually get kicked out, you're putting me up."
His voice was shaking.
At the office he'd thrown his resignation letter in the managing director's face and walked out talking big, but in front of his wife at home he shrank down to nothing. Maybe that was just the fate of a family man.
I snorted and clapped him on the back.
"Don't worry. I'll get kicked out with you."
"What?"
"We'll beg first. If that doesn't work, we fall back to my place for round two. Crack open some soju and figure it out."
"Ha… you lunatic."
Dohun scrubbed his face dry once, then punched in the passcode with a grim, determined look.
Beep-beep-beep.
The door opened. His wife, watching TV in the living room, turned her head.
"Oh? Dohun, why are you home so early today? And Minjun's here too?"
"Ah — hello, Sister-in-law."
"Come on in. Have you eaten? I actually made braised short ribs today, so this works out perfectly."
She welcomed us warmly, but Dohun's face had gone ashen.
He dropped to his knees right in front of the inner door, shoes still half on.
"Honey."
"…?"
At the sudden full bow, her eyes went round.
"Why does it feel like this? Did you mess something up?"
Her gaze flicked back and forth between me and Dohun — the uneasy look of someone wondering whether he'd co-signed a loan or gotten into a car accident.
Dohun kept his head bowed low.
"Honey… I quit my job."
"…"
Silence.
Only the dry voice of the news anchor on the living room TV filled the air.
She closed her eyes once, then opened them. The news was so sudden it didn't seem real yet.
"Are you joking? I heard hidden-camera YouTube pranks are trending these days."
"No. It's real. I threw in my resignation today and walked out."
"…"
Her expression hardened.
Dohun still couldn't lift his head. The weight of being a provider, a husband, a father pressed down on his shoulders.
"It's real, then?"
Her voice dropped low.
"So. You have a plan, right?"
"Well…"
As Dohun hemmed and hawed, I stepped in.
"Sister-in-law. The truth is, I'm going to try web novels."
"Web novels?"
"Yes. Something I wrote has been getting a good response, so I want to turn it into a real business. I scouted Dohun to be the corporate representative."
I reached to show her the phone screen I'd prepared in advance. One look at the first-day paid sales figures would explain everything.
"If you just look at this—"
"No."
But she shook her head and stopped my hand.
An unexpected reaction.
Instead of the numbers on the screen, she looked straight into my eyes, and Dohun's.
"You're sure about this, right?"
"Pardon?"
"This isn't something you did in a fit of temper, on a whim? Either of you."
At that question, I straightened my posture. I realized there was something more important than simply flashing money at her.
"Of course."
I answered without a flicker of hesitation. Beside me, Dohun nodded.
"I mean it, honey. I didn't walk out just because I lost my temper. I read Minjun's writing, I saw the potential… and I decided this was worth staking my life on."
His eyes were earnest.
She held that gaze for a long moment — then, out of nowhere, let out a short laugh.
"Then do it."
"…Huh?"
"I know better than anyone how hard you've worked at that company. The endless overtime, the boss's abuse, the weekend shifts."
The corners of her eyes reddened.
"If you threw all of that away and walked out, it means you have a conviction bigger than all of it. You think you'd work less after leaving? You'll work like maniacs."
"Honey…"
"That's reason enough to try."
She went on in a gentle voice.
"And… someday our Min-ji is going to grow up and face a choice between money and her dreams."
Her gaze drifted toward the room where their daughter was sleeping.
"If I stop the two of you now, I don't think I'll be able to tell our daughter with any confidence to choose her dreams. I don't want to teach her to compromise with reality for the sake of money."
I went blank.
Dohun and I both sat there with our mouths open. His eyes were already bloodshot; he dropped his head.
"Honey… I swear, I'll make it so I can tell our daughter with real confidence to choose her dreams. I'll actually succeed."
"Okay. I trust you."
A warm atmosphere.
But I had no intention of leaving it there. Sentiment was sentiment, and reality was reality.
"Sister-in-law — sorry to kill the mood."
"Yes?"
"You need to see this."
I held out the phone screen I'd tried to show her earlier.
The corporate account balance.
"I've secured a hundred million won in corporate funds. That's my severance, everything I've saved, plus the advance royalties combined."
"Oh my…"
Her eyes went wide.
"You don't need to worry about Dohun's salary. This is enough to hold us for at least a year without breaking a sweat."
"Minjun… where did all this money even come from?"
"If I'm going to talk a man with a family into working with me, I figure I need at least this much of a safety net."
At my little joke, she burst out laughing.
Only then did the tension drain out of Dohun; he collapsed onto the floor.
"I'm alive…"
That evening, we ate the braised short ribs she'd made and raised a toast — not to round two, but to victory.
The next morning.
Studio Nangan's office.
Representative Kang Suk-woo had frozen the moment he took a call right after arriving at work.
An employee beside him asked carefully,
"Boss, what's wrong? Who was that?"
"Munpia…"
"What? Munpia? Don't tell me they canceled the promotion?"
The employee's face went pale. Once you fall out of a platform's favor, even a great work can vanish overnight.
But Kang Suk-woo shook his head.
"No."
"Then what?"
"They're throwing everything at it. Historic levels."
"What?"
"Every banner that exists, they're putting up. Top of the main page, pop-ups, recommended works… basically, the second you open Munpia, this is the first thing you see."
"Whoa, that's insane… but there's a condition, right? They're not doing this for free."
"They want us to delay distribution to other platforms until after chapter 130."
"Chapter 130? It usually unlocks at 100…"
Meaning they wanted to extend the exclusive window. A platform calculation — lock in the readers flooding in through this work for as long as possible.
"How hard are they planning to push this…"
The employee clicked his tongue in awe.
"Treatment like this… isn't this a first for a rookie in Munpia's entire history?"
"It is."
Kang Suk-woo nodded.
And the last shred of unease lingering in a corner of his mind washed clean away.
Of course.
No matter how big or small a management company was, the platform always held the real power. But what moved the platform wasn't management lobbying or connections.
It was only ever the work.
When a work was overwhelming enough, the platform came crawling on its own and set the table.
Kang Suk-woo checked the sales status on his monitor.
Final first-day paid sales.
Total purchases over twenty-four hours: thirty thousand on the latest chapter alone.
At a hundred won per chapter, that was three million won per episode.
Add the consecutive extra chapters uploaded on top of that, plus the readers still catching up from behind…
"Twenty million won."
Daily revenue had cleared twenty million.
Normally sales dipped on day two once the opening surge wore off. But this work was different. Reader reactions were only getting hotter, and the influx showed no sign of slowing.
On top of that, the author had announced another three consecutive chapters today.
A fifty-million-won advance? We'll have recovered it by this weekend with room to spare.
Kang Suk-woo let out a short laugh.
"Kim."
"Yes, sir."
"You know what makes me happiest right now?"
"Well… the author doing well? The company growing even if we don't make money off it? There's too much to pick just one."
"Those are true too."
Kang Suk-woo tapped the monitor.
"The fact that I contracted with the author means I get to read the next chapter before everyone else."
"Ah…"
"Readers have to wait, one agonizing chapter at a time. But I get the manuscript early. That rush is more thrilling than money."
It was the smile of a true fan.
And with it, his certainty about this work's success only grew more solid.
At the same time.
Ad Like — the managing director's office.
Managing Director Choi was chewing his nails until they bled.
"Th-those crazy bastards… they're really not coming?"
The day after the two of them had submitted their resignations.
He'd held out a little hope. They'd been drunk and full of bravado, right? Come morning they'd crawl back in apologizing, heads down.
But Park Do-hun and Kang Minjun's desks sat empty.
They didn't answer calls. They didn't even read the messages.
The office atmosphere had turned foul. Employees kept glancing around and whispering.
"Looks like they actually left."
"Without Manager Park, what do we do about today's meeting?"
"Where's the proposal file Deputy Kang was working on?"
Work started grinding to a halt.
With the two people at the core of operations gone, the company was collapsing like a sandcastle.
"Quiet!!"
Managing Director Choi bellowed.
Damage control first.
"Everyone gather up!"
He called the staff into the conference room and adjusted his tie with a deliberately arrogant expression.
"What's with the mood, all of you? Are you not working?"
"…"
"Manager Park and Deputy Kang. I fired them."
A lie.
"They kept poisoning the company atmosphere, wouldn't follow my instructions… so I just cleaned house. Got it?"
"…"
"So if the rest of you don't shape up, you're next. Don't go spreading baseless rumors — focus on your work!"
He laid down the threat, but the employees' reactions were ice-cold. Cynical stares.
Yeah, right. Fired? You got dumped, and you know it.
Those looks stabbed into him like knives. But Managing Director Choi forced himself to ignore them. He was barely holding it together.
He didn't even know how the day passed.
Phones rang nonstop from every direction. The work that needed doing was a mountain. And yet the reports coming up were sparse and incomplete.
One day without those two, and everything was already starting to creak.
Things Park Do-hun would have handled on his own. Things Kang Minjun would have finished in ten minutes.
Those empty seats had become a massive hole, closing around his throat.
What do I do?
Fear set in.
In a single day, the difference in output was already enormous. A few more days like this and it was only a matter of time before his father found out.
Should I tell him first? No — if I do that, he'll kill me.
But he couldn't hide it either.
In the end, Managing Director Choi made his way to the family home after work, trembling the whole way.
His father's house.
The moment he stepped through the front door, his knees went weak.
"You're here?"
The company president, sitting on the living room sofa with a newspaper, looked at his son over his glasses.
"What's the occasion? You, showing up here on a weekday."
"Ah, Father…"
"What. Something happen at the company? Why do you look like that."
Managing Director Choi swallowed dryly. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his mouth.
"The truth is…"
"Go on."
"Manager Park and… Deputy Kang…"
"What about them."
"Th-they submitted their resignations."
"What?"
The newspaper slipped from his father's hands.
"Resignations? Out of nowhere? Why?"
"W-well… we had some differences of opinion… they got insubordinate, so I chewed them out a bit, and then…"
Managing Director Choi instinctively started laying out excuses. But he shut his mouth when he saw his father's eyes go cold.
Those weren't the eyes of a man looking at his son. Those were the eyes of a man looking at a pathetic insect.
"Differences of opinion?"
The president rose slowly from his seat.
"Manager Park — that man — got insubordinate? He worked seven years without a single complaint. He cleaned up every mess you ever made!"
"No, that's not—"
"So. Did you process the resignations?"
"I-I haven't processed them yet… they just stopped showing up…"
"Go get them. Right now."
His father's voice dropped low.
"What?"
"Get on your knees, beg, do whatever it takes — bring them back and save this company! Immediately!"
"F-Father, I'm a managing director, how am I supposed to—"
CRASH—!
A roar exploded through the room.
The president had kicked over the ceramic flowerpot beside him.
Shards scattered across the floor at Managing Director Choi's feet.
"Aagh!"
He screamed and collapsed onto the floor.
Never — not once in his entire life — had his father ever been this angry.
"You stupid bastard!"
His father was seething.
"Who do you think made this company grow the way it has?! I warned you over and over, I told you again and again… and what did you say?! That you were maintaining a good relationship! That there was no problem!"
"…"
"Without Manager Park and Deputy Kang, this company is an empty shell. You don't know that? I told you to give those two whatever they asked for!"
He picked up the ashtray.
Managing Director Choi squeezed his eyes shut.
"If you can't bring them back, I'll strike you from the family register. Get out of my sight!"
"Y-yes! Understood!"
He scrambled out the front door on all fours.
His legs shook so hard he could barely walk. The sky had gone yellow.
Bring them back? Get on my knees?
The words Park Do-hun and Kang Minjun had spoken yesterday echoed in his ears.
— Try running things with skills worse than an amateur's. Go ahead.
That line had become a curse, a reality closing around his throat.
Regret always comes too late.