Cheonho Pharmaceuticals (2): [Not Surprised, Huh?]
The voice was modulated into a mechanical tone. Flustered by this unknown voice, I couldn't utter a word.
The strange voice seemed to misread my silence and kept going.
I whispered so no one at the company could hear. “You... who are you?”
“...”
The guy knew everything about me. The instant he dropped my real name, I stupidly denied it like an idiot. “Lee Suo... nope, not me?”
Why the hell was he laughing? I'd run into way too many weirdos today. After cackling for ages, the voice finally spoke up.
“Huh?”
“...Really?”
This shady bastard was hitting me with direct and indirect verbal abuse, but I played it cool. “You don't know shit about me.”
“Uh...”
He was totally off-base, but letting the misunderstanding ride seemed smartest. Pumped by my reaction, he barreled on.
“...How'd you figure it out?”
“Hazing?”
So this was one of Conel's crew. Looked like she'd kept her promise about my identity. “And? What's the deal?”
“Later.”
I cut him off and stood. The chubby guy was heading my way.
“You're the new hire, right?” Late autumn chill in the air, but sweat poured off him. He mopped his face with a handkerchief, giving me the once-over. Channeling newbie employee vibes, I bowed politely. “Yes, sir.”
“Hello. I'm Deputy Manager Shin Do-hyun. Name's... Ibitu? Deputy Manager Ibitu?”
Ah... Conel? Jesus... This cover name was awkward as hell for a Korean.
“Uh... something wrong...” Thinking it was a misprint, Shin snatched my ID for a closer look. Masking my cringe, I bluffed shamelessly. “It's 'bi' from fly and 'tu' from throw.”
“Fly and throw? Like...”
“Parents' deep wish for me to soar and launch ahead.”
The guy, mid-retort, froze at the parent card, staring like I'd hit him with a guilt trip. “Cool... name.”
“...Your doing?”
“Pardon? Say again?”
“Nothing.”
As I trailed the employee, the shady voice chimed in coolly.
“Take it off, voice gone? Test.”
While bantering with Conel's buddy, we hit the first-floor hub—empty desks buried in paperwork. Chubby dude handed me a canned coffee. “R&D reinforcement, yeah?”
“...Yes.”
Trusted Conel nailed the details. Shin Do-hyun muttered under his breath. “Deputy... R&D starting at deputy...”
“Problem?”
“No, just...” He squeezed his eyes shut, then eased in. “Same rank, but I'm senior here. Mutual respect, yeah?”
“Of course.”
Hit me—my rank was deputy. Don't companies start you as staff? Never punched a clock, so maybe not. He loosened up at my manners. “R&D? Fancy uni, huh?”
“Ah...”
“I manage drug ops, but my school...” Ramble on credentials. No clue what my file said.
“Ah, Korea University.”
“Korea U? Why our company... forget it.” Shin babbled, then slurped coffee—spilled when hailed. “Hey! Shin!”
“Eek! Y-yes, Section Chief!”
“Director Gong in today?”
Skinny, sallow middle-aged guy grilling Shin.
“N-not yet.”
“Where? Need approvals today.”
“No idea.”
Dark-faced dude tsked, eyed me. “New guy? Nice. Let's get along awhile.”
“Yes.”
Brushed past. “Awhile”? Off vibe. Shin scrubbed his coffee-stained shirt during our chat. Awkward, he pivoted. “Built solid—work out?”
“Light home stuff.”
“Home gym? Solid. Young days, I did martial arts, soccer.”
“Ah...”
“Gains vs real-world fitness? Different beasts.”
Belly wobbling, Shin threw air punches.
“Hm...” Nice enough guy. Shared my past. “Middle school soccer, high school boxing squad.”
“S-squad? Like pro?”
“Nah, not my thing.”
“Pro build...” Bittersweet nostalgia. First high school bout—my casual right hook pulverized the guy's jawbone. Light check swing. That's when I knew I was off.
“I see.”
“Yeah, active sports back then. More too...”
“Chat time over?”
Shin: poster boy for work-life boundaries. Prime example. “GMP audit crunch, swamped. Pull your weight quick, Deputy I.”
“Will hustle.”
“Sort these docs, data on that PC—3pm good?”
Doc avalanche. Clock: 10:30. Shin grinned, bounced to the lounge—“errand.”
... Chasefield honed my ears.
Salaryman blues. Even pros gripe. Bigger issue: this paperwork mountain. What now? Grabbed one, scanned. “Hm...” Black ink, white paper. Validation? SOP? Words familiar, sentences gibberish. Infiltrate aced, but zero clue on next. Confidence dip. House-sitter stretch, maybe.
Truly...
“Problem city.”
“Hm?”
Muttered in lament—ID comm pinged back. Blakey pounced.
“Uh... sure.” Faked work, docs in hand, to PC. Sat—screen hijacked. Numbers window bang!, metrics rewritten in a flash.
Screens blurred—pills, squiggles, percent storms.
“Hm...”
Blakey ripped the files like curses. Fake employee or not, had to interject. “Ease up.”
“Nah, not exactly.”
Chaos erupted. What I thought fast? Now retina-searing frenzy. Blank canvas—files sucked in, fresh numbers/graphs spawned. Noob here, but clear: total doc overhaul.
“Whoa.”
Watched slack-jawed, like clueless fan at pro game. Moments later—
“Deputy I! What're you doing? Work!”
“Well...”
“Sigh, swamped already... Huh? You... do this now?”
Shin gawked—screen frozen. Pored over Blakey's handiwork, pupils quaking. “What the... hold up! Just wait!” Printed stack, bolted.
“This cool?”
“What?”
“Chill. Why'd Conel off a teammate?”
Screeching pierced—had to smack the ID quiet. Time ticked. Shady-faced crew closed in.
Shit... tangled bad.