Meracle Evolution!
"Ah, yes, yes. Yep, got it. Haha, thank you."
After finishing the call with the orc boss of 'Namdaemun Office Furniture Distribution,' I take another drag from my cigarette in the smoking area.
"Hoo…."
Life sure is full of twists. You never know when or how luck will roll your way.
Last time, I went with the ladies but didn't buy anything. This time, I ordered everything. Time to gut and overhaul the office interior that looked like a smuggler's den.
'Three hundred million won, huh.' Honestly, it stung a bit. Not enough for an apartment in central Seoul, but still a hefty sum.
'It's an investment. All of it.' To make Meracle even greater. Then someday, I'll be commuting from my own named apartment.
"Hoo." As I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray, the kid from the first-floor gukbap joint times it perfectly and heads over to the smoking area.
"Hello."
"Oh, hey there."
A quick greeting. His lighter seemed low on fluid—click, hiss!—so I lit his with mine.
"Thanks. Sip, hoo… Oh, right, boss. Mom said you signed for all three floors?"
"Haha, they gave me a sweet deal."
"Man, we were stressing about them not leaving, but with a solid guy like you taking over, we're grateful."
A three-story building total. Beyond the first-floor gukbap place, floors two and three are now Meracle's. Sudden expansion? Sure, but to run a staff properly, we needed this much space anyway. And the exterior was pretty shabby.
I checked with Tapcon's CEO Yoo Ji-hye, the real expert. Asked if interior design mattered much—big time, she said. They survey clients often, and most from Meracle cited 'untrustworthy vibe.'
Makes sense. First impressions in a dingy office kill credibility.
'Tch, if they knew, they could've said something sooner.' Funny asking a rival, but regrets are regrets.
After chatting with the kid, I head back to Meracle.
"Heave-ho, heave-ho."
"…."
Renea, scrubbing the stairs to the third floor with a mop like her life depends on it. New full-timer got her motivated—she's ditching phone scrolling for proactive work. I'm watching from below, no sweat on her brow, but she's pretending hard.
"Phew! No one notices, but if this lady works diligently in secret, the boss will surely recognize it and hire her full-time, right?"
"…."
"Instead of some bespectacled, tiger-nosed hack who rolled in from who-knows-where?"
"Then don't take your pay and leave."
"How can you say that!"
Of course. She knew I was here. Spinning around with that quip—classic.
"This lady worked so hard! Hiring some top-spinning fool who only knows basic magic!"
"Aren't you just an archer yourself?"
"Waaah! I hate the boss!"
She charges with the mop, so I bolt into the office. Inside, Kim Yang's already training the newbie.
"Enter."
"Yes."
"Click that."
"Sorry."
Teaching laptop customer list management, but the mage is still awkward with computers. Good she'll be on the third floor awhile—plenty of time to adapt.
"Kim Yang, ease up."
"…."
She glares, so I slink to my desk and check the news. Stock traders gotta stay informed to catch market shifts.
"Lemme see…."
A fat wallet breeds leisure. Enjoying the feed, Kim Yang sneaks up.
"B-Boss. O-Outside."
"…Why now."
"O-Outside."
Back to the stairwell. Renea finishes cleaning and enters just as we exit.
"Maknae! Brew some coffee! Iced and sweet with mix!"
"Got it."
Part-timer fetching for full-timer—this weird dynamic. As boss, should I enforce hierarchy? But considering ages, it fits.
In the stairwell, arms crossed, Kim Yang asks:
"F-Furniture. O-Ordered?"
"Yep. The stuff you suggested. Navy base, upscale. Third-floor flooring too—looking into that."
Needs marble-like flooring to match. Real marble's out; faux options abound.
"G-Good. Then p-promotion."
"Promotion? Yeah, gotta…. Ha, money pits everywhere. Pull from stocks?"
New look demands promo. But that's cash too. World’s simple yet tangled in money.
Then.
"A-Asked around. P-Promo."
"Huh?"
"S-Specifically, sponsorship."
"…Sponsorship?"
Kim Yang pulls her phone, taps expertly, and shows me.
Personal Custom Suit Brand, Allomang
"Allomang? Why here?"
"C-Contacted me. A-Ads."
"You take ads from places like this?"
Super high-end. Saw the CEO of Seo Ha-jin's company wearing one.
"But you said no ads."
"Th-This once."
"Why?"
"B-Boss's suits. L-Look bad."
"…That bad?"
Just old suits don't fit my gym gains.
"A-Anyway. Okay? M-Mutual promo."
"…Fine by me, but your no-ads SNS blew up followers, right?"
One slip could tank her image. Hate dragging down her hard work.
"F-Fine."
"Really?"
"B-Boss. Frumpy clothes. H-Harder to watch."
"…."
* * *
After work, I learned her 'suggestion' was a done deal. We headed straight there.
"Leaving this lady behind?!"
Renea sulked despite my work excuse, but off we went to Allomang.
Under the evening glow, strolling calmly, Kim Yang nudges my elbow.
"Th-There."
She points to a café—next to the flower shop. Raichen, clocking out sharp, chats coffee with Kim Da-jeong.
"Heh, date after punch-out, huh."
"D-Date. M-Maybe not."
"Post-work duo time? That's a date. Matchmakers need that eye."
Kim Yang smirks faintly, nods.
"After hours. Th-Those two. D-Date."
"Heard they fizzled before, trying again?"
"D-Don't interfere. L-Let's go."
"Tch, fine."
If they make it, no success fee, right? Morally, with 300 mil and free labor gained, charging more'd make me a slaver.
"Maybe rent an office car. Gov subsidies make 'em cheap now."
"I-I'm for."
Chatting arrives us at Allomang. Not far from the office.
"Hello."
Inside, sharp-suited owner lady bows politely. Staff gone for the day; she's solo for collab.
"B-Boss. W-Wait inside."
"Huh? Why?"
"Filming."
She grabs her phone, heads to the entrance. Vlog-style shoot and edit, sourcing footage.
"This way, please."
Guided to lounge. Custom luxury suits scream price. Solid wood and green tones impress. Interior-shopping lately, eyes linger.
'Yeah, interiors matter. Brand gauge.' Highlights our dumpy office. Preempt branding key. Tapcon white-pink, Wedding Company red-yellow, Royal Matching gold-black. We dodge with navy, targeting youth.
"Drinks?"
"Please."
"Order from the tablet."
Menu shocks. Thought OJ; it's cocktails, whiskey, champagne. Lost appetite, but 'free' sways—champagne it is.
Kim Yang enters, phone on tripod, silent filming.
"No script?"
No reply sipping champagne.
"That work?"
Another sip, she nods. Concept, I guess….
"Subtitles?"
Nod.
"Aha."
Makes sense. Her posts? Dance or text. Never voice.
"Hey, Kim Yang, c'mere. Fabric pick too."
Slide tablet; fabrics show. Natural ad pose. She films.
"Black suits, right?"
Sigh drops like answer. Phone down even.
"N-Navy."
"Why? Black's classic."
"J-Joking? Office black?"
"…Wear this to work?"
"Th-Then? Why this? F-Filial content?"
Damn….
"Everyone casual; me suited up? Overkill."
"I-I too. M-Match fabric."
"Oh? Meracle uniforms?"
Nod.
Impressed. "Shoulda brought Renea and Raichen."
"Wh-Why those two."
"Uniforms."
"Hah… B-Boss is boss. I'm full-time."
"Raichen?"
"I-Intern."
Like that? "Renea part-time?"
Nod. Firm. I scratch cheek awkwardly.
"Just us two suited?"
"Ob-Obviously."
Her exasperated face forces my nod.