Cheonho Pharmaceutical Company (8)
“Heading to work?”
“...”
My little sister. Sua didn't answer. Her face said, Why ask something so obvious?
Deep down, I wanted to scream, I don't wanna go to work! But my three years as a stay-at-home security guard held me back. If I said that now, it'd just paint me as the unemployed loser from some heartwarming redemption story—the guy who realizes "Mom's human too." Worst of all, Sua's sharp gaze bored into me without a word.
I got up naturally.
“Ahh, it's already time to head out! Work's great!”
At my chipper voice, my sister finally stood. This girl... had she been standing by my bed watching until I got up? A chill ran down my spine.
I suited up and stepped out of my room. Sua was at the living room table. It felt awkward to just walk past, so I said something.
“Where's Mom and Dad?”
“...On a date.”
Good to know their love was still going strong. I nodded vaguely, but the table was loaded. Steaming kimchi jjigae, sausages battered in egg and ketchup, steamed dried kelp and anchovies, kimchi too. A classic Korean breakfast spread.
Sua sat at one end, watching me quietly. ...No wonder there were two rice bowls on the table. I rolled my eyes and sat down.
“Ah, Mom must've set this out thinking of us. Feels wrong to leave without eating.”
“I made it.”
“Khmm...!”
I nearly choked on the kimchi jjigae. With iron will, I suppressed the cough, took a sip of water.
“It's... delicious...”
“Mom and Dad won't be back till dinner. Eat it all.”
“Got it. Leftovers are my specialty. Three years as house guard toughened my stomach.”
Sua ignored my joke and ate silently. Conversation quota must've run out. I treated her like an NPC whose paid messages had expired and kept eating. Her cooking was just like Mom's—except a bit sweeter, with 10% more meat.
I devoured the sausages, kelp, anchovies, and kimchi jjigae like a soldier charging through enemy lines. When it got heavy...
“Your senior trader treating you well?”
“Huh? Trainer? Like... gym trainer?”
Her sudden question threw me. Then I caught her odd look and snapped to. Right—I'd told her I was interning at Vanguard Investment.
I tried to play it cool. “J-Joke fell flat, huh? Haha... Yeah, my senior's great.”
“Used to reading charts yet?”
“T-Totally perfect now! I can handle eight at once!”
Charts? No clue, so I bullshitted. Probably those graphs in reports.
Sua set down her utensils at my answer.
“...How much limit did they give you?”
“Like, ten billion?”
“To an intern?”
“Ahh! Did I say ten? One billion. No, a hundred million. Yeah, around there.”
I backpedaled, gauging her reaction. Cold sweat trickled down my back. Was my sister always this scary? The gap in our social lives made even small talk feel worlds apart.
I shoveled in more kimchi jjigae and bolted up. “I'm late! Off to work!”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
Let me go, sis! My silent scream went unheard as she continued.
“Work bearable?”
“Y-Yeah, sorta. Gotta go for real! Food was great!”
I fled the table. Brushed my teeth, fixed my hair, and marched out like retreating soldiers. Before shutting the door, I saw Sua watching. Some inexplicable pressure made me speak.
“I'm off!”
“Yeah.”
The door closed, hiding her. ...Social life is terrifying. I'd survived the crisis, or so I thought with relief.
“Kyaaah! Who groped my ass?!”
“Move! Let us in!”
“Student! Seats inside!”
Help, save me! Trapped in hell-commute again, I thought, Fighting yakuza was easier. This is adulting...
I emerged half-dead, like wilted kimchi. Then my pocket phone buzzed. Unknown sender.
The burner from President Choi Manjae. Thanks to the club ruckus? They must believe Kikuchi was really dead. I pocketed it in my briefcase and walked on.
I clocked into Cheonho Pharmaceuticals again today.
“Morning!”
“Morning, Deputy Lee!”
“Lee's here?”
Day two. Newbie me got warmer welcomes than expected.
“That's him? Saved 800 million a year in fair trade efficiency?”
“800 mil? I heard 1.5 bil.”
“Per product. Total around 5 bil?”
“For real? Wow...”
Mysterious chatter. I glanced around and headed to the data room.
“Blackie, handle it.”
I dumped the real work on smart Blackie and slacked in my chair. It whipped up the docs in seconds, like last time.
“...Good enough?”
Private room buddies said don't punch at full power in office life. I pondered delivering to Manager Kim... Do I need to now? Sounds like I did something huge. Milk it and drop at the end? Genius plan. I sat back, daydreaming Chasefield since I pulled an all-nighter.
Time flew to lunch. Wandering outside, Deputy Shin grabbed me.
“Lunch together? Got yours too.”
“Really? Thanks!”
Shin was as nice as yesterday. Food: sandwiches, beef chunks instead of ham. Cheesy bliss. Mid-bite:
“Think it'll work this time?”
“Ah, yeah... Working on it.”
He seemed pleased. “Gonna get performance bonus too...”
“Pardon? What?”
“Nah. Uh, question.”
“Shoot.”
While I chewed beef, he hesitated.
“Why... join Cheonho? Great school, skills.”
“Ah...”
What excuse? Can't say undercover for secrets. Recalled chat with Manager Ma.
“Gong Exec Director intro. Relative needed help.”
“Ahh... He brought a star this time.”
“Thanks for saying so.”
His face twitched at Gong's name. Ask? I set down my sandwich quietly.
“I only know Gong's face, not details. Know anything?”
“Huh? No, nothing.”
Old saying: perfect denial is admission. Time to pry. I patted his shoulder casually.
“Hope today's smooth... Nervous, might flop. Almost done though...”
“...Where to start?”
Jackpot. I said spill it all. He sighed, eyes closed, then began.
“Think of Gong Exec as the real president.”
“President? Isn't it Chairman Kang Cheonho?”
“He's comatose... Common knowledge, but...”
He leaned in, whispering. “Chairman diluted shares for investments. Gong owns way more.”
“Shares? In Cheonho?”
“Shh... Acts like boss. Remodeled president's office on his order—said it was outdated.”
No one used it; they gutted and refurnished. Even Manager Ma was subordinate. That's the vibe.
Hm... Got the gist. Pure curiosity now: “Blood cancer drug? How's that?”
“That? Boomed once. Execs still push... Know our outside rep?”
“What?”
“Cheoncoaster.”
Cheoncoaster. Sad story in four letters.
“Phase 2 success, market cap to 1 tril—good times.”
He recounted history like it wasn't his era. Cheonho soared on trials, crashed on fails. Chairman retried, failed, crashed again. Repeated many times. Investors' bitter joke:
“Wild ups and downs like a rollercoaster—Cheoncoaster.”
“Ah...”
Stocks? To me, just rations and homestyle grub. Learned how Cheonho bled investors dry.
Shin crumpled his wrapper, tossed—missed, hit floor.
“Ahem... Why's this here?”
He waddled over, picked it up. Proper salaryman wit and manners. Sat back, eyes gleaming.
“Company might sell. Emergency shareholders' meeting. Lotsa talk. But I won't quit. Came to bury my bones here.”
“...Learned a lot.”
Genuinely moved. Peak corporate spirit? Finishing up, big voice:
“Heard? Chairman Kang passed!”
“Real? Then our company...?”
“Condolences... prep time.”
Sudden news stirred the merry lunch crowd. Shin ignored, typing steadily. Peeking: Noblejobs, job site.
Our eyes met; he smiled. “...Little bro job-hunting soon.”
“Hope he lands well.”
Family first, even now. True adult.
...Back in data room, thinking: Money and shares tangled. Details fuzzy.
So.
Shake it down tonight.