Overheard Schemes
“Yeah?”
I watched Ion Belburn take the first sip and gauge his reaction before trying the broth myself.
Oh…? This is good.
Deep, rich meaty flavor.
They’d really extracted every bit from the stock.
“How is it? Tasty, right?”
“No kidding. This place must be popular.”
It hit right in the soul of every office drone.
Should buy it out before it gets too famous.
I hadn’t tried many other spots, but Ion’s reaction was confirmation enough.
This place was destined to become the headquarters’ go-to eatery.
Acquire it, franchise it, dominate office lunches, and rake in the cash?
Impossible back in Korea, but now I had capital to burn.
Time to look into it.
Obviously, I was too swamped to handle it personally.
“So you’re sticking with the support unit from now on?”
“Yeah, probably at least three months.”
Even three was optimistic, given my tangled military life. Fixing everything properly would take a year.
A year here, and I’m looking at herniated discs and turtle neck for sure.
Chronic fatigue turning me into a burnout zombie was a given.
“You’ve bounced around postings a lot.”
“Dragged from pillar to post. You stayed at HQ the whole time?”
“Yeah, switched departments twice.”
His answer sparked instant envy.
Damn, this guy never saw a single day in combat arms.
I couldn’t say it aloud, but damn, what a sweet gig.
I slaved away sucking up honey just to survive, while this top-of-class guy volunteers for supply duty and still gets the honey. World makes no sense.
Those who seek to live will die; those who seek to die will live. Perfect fit.
“I could use some stability…”
I started lamenting in a weary tone when a familiar voice caught my ear.
“No way, that’s true? The major threatened the commander at the staff meeting?”
“Just heard from a junior at personnel. Said the director came back red-faced and is raising hell right now.”
The speakers: Master Sergeant Kailan, Captain Bern, and a few department colleagues.
Sounds like me.
I hadn’t threatened anyone, but there was only one planning department major: me.
“Whoa, that’s huge.”
“Huge. Word is, if they nitpick the bidding system, he’ll report straight to His Majesty the Emperor.”
“What…?! No way, can’t even imagine.”
Captain Bern gasped in admiration at Master Sergeant Kailan’s words.
The story was veering into sensational territory.
I never said it like that.
Sure, the intent was spot-on, but I’d phrased it diplomatically.
If it comes off like that, I sound like a total psycho.
I wanted to correct the rumor on the spot, but getting up felt like too much effort.
“Rumor is he’s an imperial appointee, no interest in kickbacks. Nobles are different, alright.”
“Gotta be. Oclo Count family? Money to burn.”
“Serious about cracking down on corruption and embezzlement. He’ll be busy for a while. I just want to see my grandkids.”
“You’ve got grandkids at least, Sergeant Major. My two-month-old daughter? I’ve only seen her sleeping.”
Captain Bern’s words tugged at my guilt unexpectedly.
That’s kinda sad.
Didn’t mean I could slack off, though.
But hey, just seeing her sleep isn’t so bad, right?
Babies are cutest asleep anyway.
In a way, Bern was living the dream.
Too devilish a rationalization?
Whatever. Better than the front lines, where your life’s on the line.
“Could be an opportunity for you, Captain. Look at his track record—nothing but fast promotions. Stick close, you might snag some crumbs.”
“Crumbs? That’d be a dream.”
Ambition dripped from his voice.
Noted.
That level of promotion hunger? I can work him harder.
His kid at home probably wanted daddy’s bigger paycheck more than his voice anyway.
“They’re talking about you, right?”
Ion noticed me eavesdropping and whispered.
“Yeah, department folks.”
“What’d you do to spark that? Start a brawl at the meeting?”
“Me? Nah, just vented a bit when I got mad.”
“And it blew up like that? Scary.”
“Scary my ass. C’mon, let’s go if you’re done. My treat—been too long.”
“Majors are on another level. Fat paycheck, huh?”
Ion teased with obvious playfulness.
“Damn right. Major pay plus medal upkeep stipend? Overflowing.”
Even without family wealth, my monthly take put me in the civilian elite.
“We gotta eat together more.”
“Call anytime.”
I slipped cash into the bill and handed it to the staff, then we left.
“Oh yeah, Palan, you in barracks?”
“Yep. You not?”
“Started there, but got lieutenant bars and bailed. Single room’s too cramped.”
“Fair.”
Junior officers had separate barracks for singles and marrieds.
Singles got the old one-room setups I’d endured.
“Bought a whole building near the main gate. Swing by when you’re bored.”
Whoa, silver-spoon life.
Scale was unreal.
“You bought a building?”
“Yeah, told the department I’m in a single room. Too risky otherwise.”
“Makes sense. I’ll visit sometime.”
We swapped addresses, entered the main gate, and parted ways.
“Good seeing him after so long.”
Beyond connections, we’d shared unforgettable training camp days—true comrades.
Real friends.
Like pre-college bros who turn out to be ride-or-dies.
Training camp bonds were that for me.
Lunch done. Back to work.
Lunch break ending—time to dive back into hellish reality.
“This make any sense? Some punk major crashes in and wrecks the whole game.”
“Threatens superiors at meetings, acts like nobility means he owns the place.”
Commanders gathered at an upscale restaurant for lunch, griping about the day’s meeting.
“Gets a medal and his head swells to the sky. Can’t let this slide.”
The loudest were majors and fresh colonels.
Personnel Director Major Gavil set down his fork mid-steak.
“What’re we gonna do, huh? Stir the pot, and he’ll tattle to the Emperor.”
His voice carried lingering heat.
This was calm compared to right after the meeting—if he’d gone home then, furniture would’ve shattered.
“Let him? All our traditions go poof.”
“Bidding system? Ignores how the military works. Why do we scrape by on peanuts?”
Their “traditions”: kickbacks from rigged contracts to factories and guilds.
“He’s loaded, so he doesn’t care. Guys like that ruin the army. Right?”
Every word rang true.
Major Gavil pondered long before speaking.
“Here’s the play. He needs other departments to push that bidding crap, right?”
“Yes.”
“Drag it out, sabotage subtly. Time drags, no results, he’ll eat crow.”
Palan’s leverage: direct imperial line and results.
Fumble results, and Gavil could nail every past rudeness legit.
“Ooh, solid. Time to humble that arrogant prick.”
“Whatever he requests, we stall and obstruct.”
Not too obvious—they had the seniority to finesse it.
“Kekeke, green kid needs a reality check. One lucky win, thinks he’s hot shit.”
Appetite returning, Gavil’s tone lifted.
“Right. A few scraps and he gets cocky with promotions. Time for a lesson.”
“Damn straight. Alright, Empire awaits—let’s move.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Light steps! Haha.”
They laughed amiably, exiting the restaurant.
Their minds: Palan Oclo, groveling flat.
“Yawn. Tired.”
“Should’ve napped a bit, sir.”
Captain Bern across from me glanced up from his papers.
“Car naps just make it worse. Better to clear work and clock out a minute sooner.”
Nearing destination, I stowed the documents.
“No one’s as dedicated as you.”
“Gotta eat. And I hate seeing it.”
“Seeing what?”
“Kickback scum. Can’t forgive ’em.”
Different world, but Korea’s junk gear? Not government intent.
Middlemen skimming.
“I… see.”
Bern caught my venom, looking flustered.
“Not one gets a pass. No power to arrest ’em, but prevent repeats at least.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s why I grind.”
One unspoken reason too.
Build the system right, and it’s honey.
Crunching numbers? Promising.
Lock in bidding, automate the rest.
Learned from military BS—no perfect system.
Bit of flaws to keep tweaking. Stay longer.
Army moves you if you slack even a little. Remember that.