Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Two weeks later, Yoonsu headed toward Dongdaemun-gu, where Parallel Soft was located.
Although he had decided to get a job, to belong to some organization, that didn’t mean Yoonsu had completely crushed the arrogance inside his heart.
Of course, I can’t help but acknowledge the developers of The Land Of Fantasy.
They were probably geniuses no less talented than himself.
That was precisely why Yoonsu had been willing to consider joining the company.
Maybe they’re veteran developers around their thirties?
Yoonsu adjusted his clothes while imagining them.
In this era, even developers usually wore suits during interviews.
But as expected of a progressive company, Parallel Soft had simply written to dress neatly, so Yoonsu wore the cleanest outfit he owned: cotton pants and a checkered shirt.
The image of a Parallel Soft developer in Yoonsu’s mind was a man in his mid-thirties wearing casual clothes, sporting a thick beard, but with eyes that sparkled brilliantly.
No. If they’re true geniuses, maybe they’re only slightly older than me.
And when he arrived at the interview site, the people he met were a man and woman who looked to be in their late twenties.
“Oh. You graduated from Daehan University?”
Seongcheol himself had graduated from Korea University, which was generally considered higher-ranked, but his admiration wasn’t fake.
Daehan University was still undeniably prestigious, and considering the current scale of the company, someone beyond expectations had shown up.
“You developed several homemade games?”
“Yes! I even brought one with me!”
Yoonsu handed Seongcheol a diskette containing Dawn of Dangun, one of the better-quality games among his homemade projects.
“We’ll take a brief look.”
Since there were plenty of computers in the office, testing it wasn’t difficult.
He made this properly.
At first launch, Seongcheol felt slightly disappointed.
But that was only because his standards had become too high.
After playing for a bit, it felt similar to RPGs he had played before The Land Of Fantasy, and the quality wasn’t bad at all.
Most importantly, the game ran smoothly without obvious bugs.
At this level, his skills as a developer certainly seemed genuine.
Afterward, Seongcheol and Yoonsu continued the interview through a series of questions and answers.
He seems pretty good.
Even though Seongcheol’s standards had risen tremendously because of his absurdly talented son Insu, he still judged this man named Yoonsu to be an excellent candidate.
“Mr. Yoonsu. Would it be alright if we asked you to meet with our main developer?”
“The main developer? Ah, yes. Of course.”
Yoonsu had assumed Seongcheol himself was the developer, so he was briefly confused.
But he understood that it meant a second interview with the actual lead developer he would work alongside, so he nodded brightly.
Then Seongcheol, who had stood up, hesitated before turning back and saying this.
“...I should warn you in advance. This absolutely isn’t a joke.”
“Huh?”
Yoonsu wondered what he meant.
But instead of answering, Seongcheol led him toward a small child sitting on one side of the office.
Yoonsu had seen the kid earlier, but he simply assumed it was the boss’s son who couldn’t yet be left home alone.
“This is Kim Insu, the main developer of The Land Of Fantasy.”
The interviewer pointed at the child and said exactly that.
“What?”
Yoonsu examined the interviewer’s face, wondering whether this was some kind of joke or unusual interview method.
But the interviewer looked completely serious.
Then the child himself stepped forward and spoke.
“Hello. You must be pretty shocked, right? But I really am the main developer. I’ll show you.”
Insu pulled out planning notebooks and opened the development version code for The Land Of Fantasy.
Since applicants naturally found it hard to believe, this was the method he carefully came up with.
“I usually write ideas in one notebook first, then organize each system separately in another notebook before implementing them one by one. I assume everyone works somewhat similarly.”
“Ah... yes.”
Still dazed, Yoonsu accepted the planning notebook and looked through it.
The handwriting was unmistakably childish, but the contents were creative and highly detailed.
It was difficult to think of it as a child’s prank or something fabricated.
This feels real.
“I struggled a bit over adding elemental resistances by race. It would’ve been easier to just assign fixed attributes to each race, but then the compatibility system would become too simple, and item or skill builds would feel overly predictable.”
As Insu pointed through the code one section at a time, explaining how things were built and what kinds of problems and bugs appeared during implementation, Yoonsu, who already had development experience himself, couldn’t help understanding exactly what he meant.
This kid really made that game?
The moment he accepted that this situation wasn’t a lie, the unbelievable reality truly hit him.
“And this Noona here is our graphics director.”
“Hello.”
Yoonsu reflexively bowed back to the middle-school-aged girl greeting him politely.
Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
Was I actually just ordinary?
Yoonsu felt the world he had known until now collapse apart.
But he didn’t run away from it.
Since he had always proudly considered himself a genius, he also possessed admiration toward truly exceptional ability.
And now he had encountered “real geniuses.”
Moreover, these people had already created and released an incredible game.
Other people only saw that game as a well-made commercial product.
But Yoonsu understood.
Rapidly advancing computer technology, growing distribution rates, PC communication, and even the internet that people claimed would soon arrive—
Though the information was fragmented, Yoonsu could vaguely see the future those things would create.
And he could also imagine what role the creators of games like The Land Of Fantasy would play within that future.
...This is the opportunity of a lifetime.
Yoonsu felt as though heaven itself had granted him the chance to stand at the birthplace of a legend and participate in it.
“...So? Would you like to work with us?”
That was why, the moment Insu extended the offer, Yoonsu grasped his hand without the slightest hesitation.
“I look forward to working with you!”
But not everyone accepted Insu’s existence so easily.
“I’m sorry. I think... I should leave.”
The man named Kang Junpyo, supposedly in his final year of university, seemed like promising talent because he could both code and draw reasonably well.
But after meeting Insu, he first became deeply shocked, then gradually retreated with a confused expression.
“Is it because you can’t believe I’m the main developer?”
“Ah, no. Looking at the notebooks and hearing the source code explanations, I do think you’re really the developer, but...”
The man refused to continue the conversation any further and simply left.
“...”
As Insu stood there unable to say anything, Seongcheol approached and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Honestly, it wasn’t a reaction he couldn’t understand at all.
The idea that the great developer they expected turned out to be a little child not even old enough for elementary school yet, and the thought of working under him, could definitely be difficult to accept.
Still, rejection always left damage behind.
“Well, it’s fine. We can just find someone else.”
Fortunately, because he possessed memories from his previous life, Insu recovered relatively quickly.
And when he thought about it carefully, experiences like this would probably only happen while he was young.
Unless they failed to recruit anyone at all, it wasn’t as though everyone reacted negatively.
That Park Yoonsu guy from earlier looked eager to join no matter what.
The one losing out is the person rejecting us.
Insu had already gained confidence through The Land Of Fantasy.
Whether or not he could truly achieve his grand vision of conquering the world through games remained uncertain, but at the very least, he was confident Parallel Soft could become one of Korea’s top three game companies.
He just lost the chance to become a founding member of a company like that.
Once his thoughts reached that point, Insu lifted his previously lowered head and proudly raised his nose instead.
And just as Insu expected, many people continued knocking on Parallel Soft’s doors even after Kang Junpyo.
Part of it was thanks to Seongcheol and Hyein working tirelessly.
But the biggest reason was that Parallel Soft’s name had already become somewhat known within the gaming industry.
Unfortunately, however, there were no other applicants who gave them the same feeling of we absolutely must recruit this person like Park Yoonsu had.
But honestly, that was only natural.
Even in 2025, when the computer and gaming industries had become enormously developed, talent like that was still rare.
Honestly, if someone’s truly that talented or motivated, they’d usually develop things themselves.
Moreover, this was still an era when computers and games were only beginning to develop, meaning individual developers still had opportunities to achieve relatively significant success on their own.
Of course, not every independent developer would succeed.
But people stepping into such a bleak and uncertain early-stage industry generally tended to prioritize dreams and challenges over stability.
Among the people submitting resumes here, there were probably quite a few who intended to gain experience or learn something before eventually pursuing their own projects later.
“I think this mister, no, this person, is better at least.”
Since Eunha Noona was the graphics lead, her opinions were also included in selecting the graphic designer.
And after hearing she would have to work closely with the new hire herself, Eunha seriously reviewed the resumes too.
These were applicants who had already passed the first interview with Mom and Dad and then reached the second interview with Insu and Eunha.
“Well, they’ll be working with you, Noona. Alright.”
Honestly, Insu had been more interested in another applicant who graduated from the Korea Academy of Fine Arts.
Since it was impossible to fully understand someone after only briefly meeting them, he naturally focused more on visible credentials.
Still, the person Eunha selected, Lee Suhyeon, didn’t seem lacking either.
And Insu could roughly guess why Noona had chosen that person.
She was probably interested in the manga assistant experience.
In addition, the resume mentioned illustration work for magazines and various other experiences.
In some ways, compared to a fine arts graduate who had only studied theory, this person, while perhaps weaker theoretically, might actually be better because of greater practical experience.
And they won awards several times during middle and high school, so their fundamentals probably aren’t bad either.
Lastly, Insu selected a university senior named Yoo Juyeon whose family owned a musical instrument shop.
The name sounded somewhat feminine, but he was male.
Since they were hiring him as a programmer, he naturally knew coding, including the C language.
And although he had not deeply specialized in music itself, he had learned how to handle various instruments and related equipment while helping with family work.
Furthermore, since he majored in computer engineering, he had naturally used FM synthesizers and studied a bit of music theory as well, so Insu expected him to at least be better than himself in those areas.
Looks like I’ll still have to handle the story myself.
After quickly choosing Park Yoonsu and filling the remaining two positions, all the available slots were gone.
And hiring yet another employee solely for story writing felt somewhat excessive.
Hiring people required caution.
Once someone was hired, it wasn’t easy to fire them.
If their abilities could be utilized effectively, that was one thing. But otherwise, they simply became meaningless fixed expenses that continuously damaged the company’s finances.
And just like in games, every small instance of damage accumulated until it eventually became a critical hit.
Well, honestly, I was still a little uneasy about leaving things to others anyway.
Even Insu himself couldn’t tell whether that was his true feeling or merely an excuse he created afterward because there was no other choice.
Either way, the recruitment process ended like that for the time being.
