Meracle Without the Boss!
Kim Yang settled into her seat, feeling the urgent need to sort out the situation. She booted up the computer and checked the date. April 20th. Spring had arrived, streets blooming with scattered flowers. With May dubbed the wedding month, matchmaking agencies like theirs were about to hit peak season—and it was now just ten days away. Events were slated to kick off as soon as the month began, making things busier than expected.
Kim Yang pulled out the note her boss had left before departing and reviewed it again.
[List.]
• Hotel reservations for Namgoong Haryeong and Paeng Sorin during their stay.
• Site visit to the listed gym: check availability, inquire about deposit. (E.g., protective gear, mat rentals, sound equipment, showers, changing rooms, parking.)
• Compile promo phrases for the event. (Get staff input too.)
• Draft intro for invited instructors.
• Outline application process and create forms. (Rough draft in my computer files.)
• Compile SMS/email list for existing clients. (Prioritize hunters.)
• Request basic curriculum draft from instructors. (Mandatory. If they refuse, send me a letter.)
• Rent in-ear translators and inspect for defects. (Found a vendor—business card in my drawer. Rent for all of May.)
"……."
Seeing it laid out like this, the tasks felt overwhelmingly packed—daunting, even for a small event at a mid-sized firm. It was intimidating, but Kim Yang steeled her resolve.
I'll make it happen.
Meracle's first real event. They'd done package deals, 1+1 matchups, 20% discounts, special Yeoeumhoe rates—but those were just price tweaks. This was different. A May event to capture the hearts of hunters past their prime.
"Hoo—."
From here on, Meracle would host events like Towerhun's wedding parties, boosting client satisfaction one by one. She taped the note gently under the monitor. Her eyes kept drifting to the final lines at the bottom, no matter how she tried to avoid them.
• On-time arrival, on-time departure.
• No overtime. (No night pay.)
• You don't have to do everything. Just two or three—whatever's easy for you.
• I'll handle the rest when I get back anyway.
Kim Juseon had known she'd overdo it, hence those last words. Reading them only fueled her determination, bringing a faint smile.
I'll make sure you have nothing to do when you return.
Kim Juseon wasn't off playing—he was training under the Namgoong family head. Probably sweating buckets right now. Kim Yang took a short breath, hardened her expression, and messaged Raichen guarding the lobby.
The reply came instantly. Delegate while doing her own work. Don't try to handle it all as deputy.
Thought she was slacking.
Realizing it was just smart division of labor, Kim Yang moved to the next task.
Two days later.
Meracle was a whirlwind of nonstop activity. Kim Yang's desk alone told the story: 1L plastic coffee cups lined up like soldiers, stacks of documents piled shoulder-high. Even with fewer clients than usual, the workload had exploded.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
Her phone buzzed—Baek Yeonhwa.
"Hello?"
Ah! Deputy Kim? I called some weird place earlier...
"Yeah, it's me."
Like with Renea, she'd bought her a phone ages ago, yet she still struggled. Electronics weren't her thing.
I just checked the recreational gym! Uh, the facilities are way more rundown than the photos. Not suitable. And the bathroom smell is awful…!
"Got it."
No time to hear complaints; Kim Yang acknowledged, asked her to check the next spot, and hung up.
"Hoo."
Back to the screen: poster mockups via email. Opening the file made her grimace; she grabbed the phone again.
"Hello? Design Frame, right? Meracle calling."
Ah, yes! Saw the mockup I just sent?
A brisk middle-aged man's voice. Kim Yang reined in her irritation.
"We already told you the design is finalized. You got approval from our boss."
Ah, right, right! Meracle? Meracle, yeah?
"I just said Meracle."
Machines are noisy here—can you say it again?
"Meracle's design is finalized. Just resize and adjust ratios, resend. Why's the old version back?"
Oh, was that it? Why doesn't this one work?
"Printers have specific specs. This leaves margins, blurs quality. They said your boss would know."
Right, right! Fixing now.
"Send quick—the printers are hounding us."
Yes, yes! Got it!
Click. Said what needed saying, trivial issue—yet why the unease? She reached for coffee, found it empty, and set it down with a sigh.
Tap tap tap! Aggressive keyboard clacks. Then Renea entered, lugging a large box with grunts.
"Kim Yang! Got those in-ears I mentioned yesterday! They do hearing aids too—should this lady get one?!"
"……Let's check."
"Ooh! Hold on!"
She set the box down. Renea grinned, popped one in her ear, fiddled with the remote.
"This thing does multiple languages—huh? What's this? Translating this lady's words? This lady understands her own speech just fine!"
"……."
"They explained usage earlier—."
Renea rummaged the box for the manual. Worried she'd dive in fully, another arrival: white ponytail, green bridge glasses, nun outfit. Mosco Bi Chacos—impossible to miss. Her cold gaze hit the boss's empty desk first, tongue clicking as she approached Kim Yang.
"Requested training curriculum. Two-week course."
"Heard you were busy—thanks."
"……It's a commission."
Commission. She framed it that way, but no pay involved. Skimming the curriculum: detailed—shooting stance, close-quarters response, gun selection, one-second reload, long-range sniping notes and drills. Hunter-friendly content, densely packed. Impressive.
"Format's so clean—easy to grasp. Hunters'll love this."
"Yu Ye—er, Vice President formatted it after I mentioned it. Content's mine, layout hers."
As Tower Admin atonement, she dealt with Yu Ye-na often. Proper titles showed adaptation.
"Where's the boss?"
"Far off. Duties? Tell me."
"……Kids miss him. Just asking—not me."
She left. Her presence weighed heavy, tension lingering. Kim Yang leaned back, sighing, relaxing—
"Whoa! Kim Yang! This is amazing!"
Renea, beaming from the box, pointed to her in-ear.
"Stuck this in, and your stutter's gone! Ooooh—modern tech?!"
"……Forgot from exhaustion."
Boss gone, bad habits return. Sigh. Kim Yang inserted hers.
"C-can you h-hear?"
"What?! Broken? Stuttering again?!"
By 10 p.m.
Tap tap. Tap tap. Keyboard echoed through Meracle.
Bathed in monitor glow, Kim Yang finalized forms. Glanced at the clock, stretched, yawned.
"Yawwn—."
Ten already—long past quitting. Greed kept her glued.
"……."
Eyes back to the note, seen a dozen times today.
• On-time arrival, on-time departure.
• No overtime. (No night pay.)
• You don't have to do everything. Just one or two—whatever's easy.
• I'll handle the rest when I get back.
"……Dummy boss."
No night pay? She'd claim it—cash tight, but beef? She snapped her fingers, smacked the paper playfully, grabbed the corporate card from the boss's desk, headed downstairs.
Lobby lights still on. Three murim folk, one elf—notebooks open, practicing poses.
"L-like this? How's it?"
"Sis, you're good."
"Impressive for your age."
"……This lady's age group doesn't exist anymore, so she's top among peers. Even breathing—this lady's best."
No one's breathing now.
Unlike Mosco Bi Chacos, Namgoong Haryeong and Paeng Sorin struggled with curriculum. Training themselves? Fine. Teaching? New. So they taught basics to martial-illiterate Renea, building the manual.
"S-sleeping."
Baek Yeonhwa, out cold on the sofa. Renea explained, grinning.
"Kid conks at ten sharp. Trained that way since childhood?"
Strict Taeguk Eumyangmun schedule meant fixed bedtimes.
"N-night snack. Wake her?"
Flashing the card. Renea bounced excitedly.
"Ooh! Snacks! Chicken! Chicken!"
"Chick-en!? Ooo—!"
Namgoong Haryeong thrilled; Paeng Sorin tilted her head, lost.
"Chi-ken? What's that?"
"Y-you don't know?"
Namgoong Haryeong scoffed; Renea flailed dramatically.
"They—! F-fry chick-en in bubbling oil! Crispy outside, juicy in! Savory! This lady's lived 1,902 years—maybe for this era's food—!"
"S-saliva! Sis, drooling!"