The Real Company Visit

The tray landed in his hands.

It was hard not to think a great many things at once.

"Not eating? Ah, right — you said you were full."

"It's not that…"

"What, shy about flashing your chest in front of a bunch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of middle-aged guys?"

"……"

Even after the sexual harassment, she had nothing to say. Whatever was going through Sora's head right now —

They've been saying since the Joseon era that women have superior empathy.

So just empathize already!

It was the sort of claim certain women's groups liked to push, and there was something to it. Feeling pity was only natural.

"Look at that girl — every last bit of fat went straight to her tits."

"Hey, Kim! Shut your damn mouth and eat your rice."

From a relative standpoint, the meal the Ohseong Heavy Industries employees were eating was modest.

Anyone can tell this is just reheated prepackaged stuff.

Tteokgalbi and bean-sprout soup as the mains, with seasoned zucchini and kimchi on the side. A three-side-dish table, you could call it. A far cry from the seven-side-dish spreads at the other affiliates.

"These are the same trays our school uses."

"Feels familiar, doesn't it."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Why do you think."

Everything in the world had a reason. If a company poured care into its cafeteria to boost employee loyalty —

Then the opposite case has to exist too.

There was a surer way to learn how the Ohseong Group really felt about this particular affiliate than asking an IR officer.

Crunch, crunch!

You ate the food. It was the familiar taste of something you'd eat if it was put in front of you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— but never go looking for.

"This is an Ohseong affiliate too, right?"

"It is."

"Somehow it feels… neglected."

Sora's instinct wasn't wrong. Better to call it a reasonable inference.

That's exactly what it is.

Money was a finite resource. If someone spent a lot, someone else had to spend less. The same held at the group level. There were places where the capital transfusion simply ran thinner.

"Ohseong Heavy Industries is…"

"The cast-off kid. That kind of feeling."

"Kid?"

"That's how chaebols work."

A chaebol was a blood-tied corporate culture found across Asia. Because the bloodlines were real —

You can look at each affiliate as family.

The unloved child. That was Ohseong Heavy Industries. It bled staggering losses every year, with no clear timeline for turning a profit. From the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠group's perspective, a little neglect was only natural.

"Even so, they're still Ohseong. For the gap to be this big…"

"Mm."

"If I were an Ohseong Heavy Industries employee, I'd be pretty hurt."

"It's not quite like that."

"?"

It hadn't always been this way. Ohseong Heavy Industries had once been one of the group's most cherished affiliates.

Shipbuilding used to be huge.

Alongside semiconductors, it had been a pillar industry that fed the entire country. They'd raked in money with both hands.

Open a shop and the goods flew off the shelves.

Even the street dogs carried ten-thousand-won bills in their mouths.

There was no IMF on Geoje Island.

Stories like that made the rounds. The dogs probably weren't actually carrying cash around, but it gave you a sense of the atmosphere back then.

"Wow…"

"And they blew it themselves."

"How?"

"Dumping."

Same idea as a supermarket clearance sale. When someone sells things suspiciously cheap, there's always an angle.

The executives got greedy for revenue numbers and fucked themselves.

That was called dumping. Short-term results might look good, but long-term it was an obvious loss.

"Ohseong Engineering, the first place we went — same story. Dumping wrecked them. At least that one's still operational."

"So there are cases that went completely under."

"Yeah."

The cast-off child. In family terms, that was exactly it. They'd done something that left them with no right to complain about being out of favor.

Still, cutting them off entirely would look bad.

They'd been allowed to keep the Ohseong name. Beyond that, support was practically nonexistent, and they weren't treated like a real child at all.

Crunch, crunch!

It showed up on the menu. In the traditional view, a three-side-dish table was for commoners; a seven-side-dish table was for the nobility. Demoted from nobility to commoner. It was a stark illustration of how Ohseong Heavy Industries ranked among the affiliates.

Still edible, though.

It was at least mid-tier conglomerate level. When your father was roughly the prime minister of a nation, even a discarded child got this much.

"So if you wanted to forgive a child who'd fallen that far out of favor — what would it take?"

"Time?"

"Time, sure. But you'd need some kind of catalyst too."

"Ah!"

At minimum, they'd have to make it on their own first.

Only then would the family even consider taking them back. It was a pattern that showed up constantly in old Korean and Chinese stories. Whether reality would play out the same way — impossible to know from the present moment. But one thing was certain.

"So if a funding problem comes up…"

"Mm."

"It's safe to assume headquarters won't lift a finger, right?"

"Yeah. That's how it'd go."

Until then, they weren't really Ohseong. If you'd looked at the name and assumed Ohseong affiliate meant safety —

You weren't ready to trade K-stocks.

The peculiar structure of Korean corporations. Without understanding chaebol families, you could get burned — badly.

"Thanks for the meal!"

"You're eating this too?"

"I actually like this kind of food."

The reason for touring the Ohseong affiliates. Illusions only shattered when you saw them with your own two eyes.

It's Ohseong — what could go wrong?

The fact that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠things could go wrong simply didn't land until you'd been there.

"Mmmmm~~!!"

Sora stretched. A full day of company visits was enough to wear anyone out.

And she ate like a monster on top of it.

Those already monstrous breasts looked even more swollen. A storage warehouse where all the nutrients went to settle. But her face looked light, unburdened. Maybe she'd found the answer she'd been looking for.

"Satisfied?"

"Yes. Intellectual appetite and regular appetite both."

"Well then. Time to head back."

Outside, it was already pitch dark. The sun had fully set, as if urging them to get home already.

Thud!

They climbed into the car. Sora, who'd been singing about wanting to go on company visits, ought to have been satisfied by now.

"There's still one thing missing."

"What now?"

"Can I ask a favor?"

"If it's quick, sure…"

She might still have questions. This wasn't the kind of work you developed a feel for after one or two tries.

You just have to rack up the experience.

If she'd actually learned something, that was commendable. Before that, though, there had been a great deal of experience already accumulated.

Click!

The sound of the door lock engaging. He wondered why — they hadn't even started the engine yet.

"Sexual appetite."

Bathed in moonlight, Sora licked her lips.

The company visit.

It hadn't been exactly what she'd imagined.

Back in her studio apartment, Sora drifted into recollection.

You really do need a ton of prior knowledge…

The IR officer's explanations had flowed without a single hitch. Every word of it correct. All she could do was nod along. Even the things her senior explained so effortlessly were things she hadn't been able to grasp on her own.

Sharp questions? Hidden investment intel? They hadn't been at a stage where any of that was on the table.

Still, the food was good.

At first there had been nothing but disappointment. In a mood of pure resignation, she'd eaten just to fill her stomach. And the answer had been right there — absurdly enough, not in any company secret or employee, but in the cafeteria.

Gulp.

A company was a facility. Before it was a business that made money, it was also a workplace for its employees. People spent at least eight hours a day there. Which meant you inevitably had to look at the working environment.

If a company truly wants to hold on to its people —

It invests in work-life balance. Not just meals, but everything else too. An obvious fact, really. As an investor, she'd somehow never known it the other way around. If she'd only ever looked at financial statements, she would have gone her whole life without learning it. The company visit had been worth it.

And he was delicious too.

She'd been able to blow off a full load of stress. Something she could never quite satisfy on her own.

Slurp.

She'd poured everything onto her senior. Clamping her mouth over those smug lips always sent a rush of heat through her.

Shipbuilding stocks.

The fight between her and that woman had lit a fire among investors. Ohseong Heavy Industries came up especially often — it was considered the safest of the bunch.

Financially, that wasn't true. The charts, the futures, the market's movement — all pointed the same direction. The sole point of anxiety was Ohseong. It was something she hadn't even considered before uploading the video, and it had thrown her.

No. I can be sure of this.

It was an arbitrary guess. No basis whatsoever. And she'd gone and seen that fact with her own eyes.

The company visit. Because she'd confirmed it clearly with both eyes, she could have confidence in her own judgment.

She shouldered the pressure. Right or wrong, she was ready to take responsibility for the words she'd put out there. And so was the other side.

If the prediction turned out wrong —

Get on your knees, you fucking bitch.

She'd pay it back double. Every last bit of the grudge she'd been carrying.

The result of the match.

It didn't take long to come in. And it wasn't chance — it was inevitable.