Episode 28 — Don't You Go Extinct, Either (3)
We dragged ourselves back to the office on hollow, defeated feet.
Ha...
The same world. The same commission. That alone was bad enough—and now the site where the work was supposed to land was identical, too.
"Haha. How do you overlap that perfectly?"
Even the teammates who'd seen this mess coming apparently hadn't known the island was the same one. Heads aching, they sprawled at their desks like laundry left out to dry.
Shouldn't the CEO be screening these commissions? No—he just gulps down every single one with no plan at all?! It's not like he's the one doing the work! I cursed that infuriating vampire all over again. Hey! Quit messaging people when you're bored and do your damn job!
"...Let's get this sorted."
Only Pascal, bearing a team leader's heavy charge, had his wits about him. He herded us into the conference room.
Client 1. Dragon King
– Construction of a land base
Client 2. Poseidon
– Construction of a land base
. . . . .
Laid out on a slide, it looked even more absurd.
Do the two countries even know the islands they're trying to develop are the same one? These were national projects, weren't they? And this was the state of them? Maybe the kingdoms were developing the place jointly and nobody had bothered to say so. Clinging to that thin hope, I asked Hena, who actually lived there.
"That'th not it. The two countries are on pretty bad termth."
Right. So it really was a mess.
And now that we were out of the water, Hena had shrunk back to her petite self. She looked so deflated she seemed even smaller than usual.
"Land only getth uthed for a few thpecific purposeth, tho the territorial agreementth were never really organized. That'th probably why they overlapped."
Mm. No answer to be had.
Haha. Just—no answer at all.
"Enough. Don't let outside factors jerk you around. We do our work."
He was right. Turn in the design the client ordered, and that was the job. Whatever became of the land bases, we could just stumble through two branding projects with our eyes shut.
Right. We're nothing but designers. How were we supposed to meddle in the politics of nations—worse, a turf war between mythic beings?
"We'll pick up the real comps next week. It's Friday. Head out early."
Oh? Early?
Food. Leaving early. Annual leave.
Those three magic words, and the simple souls of the office lit up at once, bright as if the last hour had never happened.
Maybe I was only miserable because I'd sunk too deep into the client's point of view.
I tried to shake it off and pack my bag with a lighter heart.
But.
"......"
The mail had come.
Ah. So that was the hollow spot I'd been feeling. The robot client must have been slower with feedback than I'd expected; the results were only landing now.
The timing of these satisfaction reviews really does vary by client. Some scored you the moment the final comp was presented. Others waited until the finished work was installed.
...This time my left arm and my right leg are on the line.
Yeah. I ought to check before I left, if I wanted a clean weekend.
Click.
The client had seemed pleased, so I clicked the subject line expecting a decent score.
However.
......
What?!
This heap of scrap metal?! It had looked perfectly happy with the work! It had gone on about wanting to scout me, and then—this!
Don't tell me... anything A or above means they have to pay an extra fee, so they did this on purpose?
"......"
Well, look at that. Efficient in the worst possible direction! Go get yourself sold off to a hardware store!
Ha...
My head throbbed. I pressed my fingers hard into my temples. Failing to earn the bonus on the last project had been bad enough, but there was another problem sitting under it.
The moment a client chose to evaluate you.
If both clients on this project also decided to wait until the work was fully installed...
It would be a disaster.
Figuring out the installation would be trouble enough. On top of that, they'd be handing out scores in the middle of a complete mess.
...And if it came to that.
Would they generously decide the design agency was blameless and score us with cool objectivity?
No.
Absolutely not.
Evaluations are subjective. Part of the score simply follows the client's mood. Hand them the survey while they're happy and they mark you higher; catch them in a foul mood and they'll slash even a brilliant design just for the satisfaction of it.
Ha. I shouldn't have opened that mail just now.
I'd clicked it lightly, and now the whole weekend was going to feel grimy.
No bonus last project, and if I blow this assignment too...
...Honestly? That was despair.
Aaagh. This was killing me.
"!!"
I was halfway through tearing at my hair when my eyes met Hena's over the partition. She was packing up.
"......"
I dropped my hands and did my best impression of a man who was fine. My sharp-eyed colleague, pity already on her face, spoke to me anyway. Ugh. Embarrassing.
"Lee-hyun, don't worry tho much. It'th a thtrange thituation, but thtrictly thpeaking, it'th the clienth' busineth. We jutht have to do the dethign well!"
That... has kind of become my business now.
If I tank this project, the odds of my precious limbs being collected go up.
Hena's gentle comfort failed to land.
...Find a way. Somehow.
I called her back just as she was finishing up and turning to go.
"Hena, you spend the weekends in the Undersea World, right?"
"Yeth, that'th right?"
An idea had surfaced. If I were the one being asked, though, I was pretty sure I'd hate it—so I hesitated a beat before I said it.
"If you don't mind... would it be all right if I stopped by your world this weekend?"
"What?! Our world?!"
"...It's a burden, isn't it? Then I'll just go on my own. Please rest over the weekend."
Seeing a coworker on a Saturday? And from the context, it was obviously about work. Yeah. I'd want to refuse, too.
What came back was not the answer I'd expected.
"Thure, I'd love to! I'll guide you!"
"I knew it'd be too much for— wait, really?! You're sure? It's the weekend! You can say no!"
She agreed more readily than I'd thought. Which only made me feel burdened. Maybe I should have just wandered around on my own.
"Thith ith about our project, ithn't it?"
"Yes. I don't think we can solve the problem ourselves, but... I still want to look around. Call it market research."
"Then of courthe I should help! You're willing to thpend your own time becauthe you care that much about our world!"
......It was less affection than private survival.
I felt, unintentionally, like I was deceiving her. Hhk. Sorry. And thank you.
And so we made plans to meet in Hena's world on Saturday.
"Lee-hyun, over here!"
With the temporary staff badge Hena had issued me, I passed through the agency's entry gate and crossed into the Undersea World. Today, too, she had lengthened into that tall, striking frame, and she greeted me in a voice that rang clear.
"The region is laid out roughly like this."
She opened the notes on her phone and sketched as she explained.
The East Sea Kingdom, ruled by the Dragon King, and the West Sea Kingdom, ruled by Poseidon, were the great powers, with smaller nations stationed around them. And between the two, a borderland that belonged to no one. The island we had been commissioned to brand sat squarely on that border.
"The borderlands are full of islands and reefs, so neither kingdom coveted them much. Rough country. A neglected zone with no government to speak of."
I glanced at Hena before I could stop myself.
...She said jellyfish-folk like her live in that border region, didn't she?
It might be a sensitive subject. I'd have to be careful. Promising myself I'd watch my mouth, I turned back to her.
"Shall we start with the Dragon King of the East Sea's country?"
"Yes. Let's go."
I walked a little way under Hena's guidance, and a market opened up ahead of us.
It looks like something out of a historical drama. No—a folktale.
Along one street the craftsmen had gathered, and metal ornaments and iron furnishings stood in rows.
Hena pointed down the lane.
"Smelting is highly developed in the East Sea. Delicate metalcraft, especially. That's what they're known for."
No wonder. The dragon palace had been gorgeous. What human ever got the luxury of looking at architecture like that? My eyes were having a wonderful time.
I was still admiring the fine work in precious metal when—
"Out of the way!"
Thud—
Someone shoved past me at a run. I nearly went down.
"Aigoo, thief!! That scoundrel stole our lord's coin purse!"
A shout followed right behind him. I looked the way the culprit had bolted and saw a turtle sprinting off. A turtle—and why was it that fast?!
Would something like this even work?
I dug through my messenger bag and pulled out the Thread of Ariadne. Name a target, and the thing shot toward it.
"Go to the left arm of that turtle running over there!"
Arm or leg—I hesitated for half a second. The spool seemed to understand me well enough. It poured out a gold light and flew for the turtle's left side.
"Now the same turtle's right arm!"
The thread swung halfway around and reached his right.
"Left again!"
"Right!"
A few repetitions, and the spool had wound itself around the sprinting turtle.
"Come to me!"
Whirrr—!
"Gyaaah!"
The thread cinched around his upper body and hauled him my way, so the thief came dragging along like a man trussed in a prisoner's rope. ...This actually worked?
Thanks to that, I got back the coin purse the sea creature had stolen. I turned to return it to its owner—
"......!"
—and saw faces I knew.
"Thank you, thank you! Oh! Aren't you the people from Vanta Design we met yesterday?"
The rabbit's ears shot straight up as he greeted us, delighted.
"My lord! Here—what a relief we found it safe!"
Master To passed the purse to the superior he appeared to serve.
Not some court official, then. Master To has a lord of his own?
...Which would mean—
"You have my thanks for bringing it back. And yet, how destitute must a soul be, to commit a crime such as this."
The man, gentle of face, loosened the purse he'd been given. He drew out a few gold coins and tossed them to the turtle.
"Live upright from this day. Were you not a craftsman of metalwork? I know your skill."
Freed from the thread, the turtle scooped up the coins—then saw the man's face and jolted as if struck. He bowed again and again, and at last fled in a fluster of shame.
That man is definitely...
No splendid ceremonial robes. Modest clothes, and a face I knew.
"So we meet again, young one."
With a soft smile, he raised his index finger and set it to his lips.
"Hush. You will keep this a secret, will you not?"
It was the Dragon King, in disguise.