Did That Bastard Know?

Seventeen days?

I read the words floating on the wall again.

What is this.

I closed my eyes and opened them. A moment ago it had clearly been six years — when I came in for the interview, and again when I checked this morning. So why, all of a sudden, seventeen days?

"Looking forward to working with you."

The Representative smiled as he shook hands with the distributor's employee, and beside him the Sales Team Leader clapped. I couldn't even smile along. My eyes moved from one face to the other.

Did it change because they stamped the seal just now?

The question climbed as far as my throat. My gaze dropped to the table on its own. On the last page of the contract spread before the Representative, a red seal had been pressed.

"......"

I had seen it. Until that seal touched the paper, more than six years had been left. The palm wrapped around the tray went damp, and as I shifted my grip the corner struck the doorframe.

Thud.

People turned my way.

"Are you all right?" the Representative asked.

"......Ah, yes. I'm sorry."

My voice came out a little cracked. I drew the tray in against myself. My face was hot, but even then my eyes kept sliding back to the company name, and the numbers hadn't moved.

"Doyun." This time it was the Sales Team Leader. "If the coffee's all set, you can go."

"......Yes."

I opened the door and stepped out at once. Just before it shut, Yoon Seojin's voice came through.

"Team Leader. The inspection schedule — here."

I didn't have the presence of mind to catch what followed.

I set the tray down in the pantry and braced my hands on the rim of the sink. Even standing still, my heart was racing. I hadn't misread it.

I still wanted to check, so I went back to my desk. I took hold of the mouse and the wrong folder opened. I closed the window, brought up the browser, and typed the company name into the search bar, backing out typos twice before it would take.

Serim Living.

"Ha......"

I started to lean back in the chair and caught myself, sitting up straight instead. Today was my first day. In my bag was the employment contract I'd signed a little while ago — this time I'd told myself to look after my own copy, and I'd slipped it in without a crease. This morning I'd even been planning to put the first paycheck toward the credit card.

And the company was going to go under before payday ever arrived.

Again?

The thought turned my stomach. I remembered the days of calling around over wages that never came. The boss wouldn't pick up. The people I'd worked with didn't know anything either. I needed money right away, and all anyone would tell me was to wait.

No. I didn't want to go through that again.

I looked at the bag beside the desk. It wasn't too late. I could say something personal had come up and quit. I hadn't even received the job handover yet, so speaking up now would be the better move. I reached for the handle, then stopped.

......And if I went home?

With the 380,000 won left in my account, I'd be back out at interviews, and there was no telling when the next company would take me. I'd already been turned down more than once after applying to places that swore they kept their people on. I bit my lip and drew my hand back.

Leaving was hard. Sitting here and pretending I didn't know was impossible too.

Laughter drifted out of the conference room. I stared at the closed door. It had been fine until just now — at least until they stamped that contract. If the contract was what had changed the number, then maybe fixing the problem would make it stretch out again. I had no certainty. This was the first time I'd seen the number move like that. Even so, I wanted to hold on to the possibility.

I opened the shared folder and typed Saehan Retail into the search bar. What came up was a folder sorted by date: quotations, product photos, packaging drafts. No contract. I opened a quotation and was running through the items, quantities, and unit prices when my hand stopped.

What am I supposed to learn from looking at this?

I didn't even know yet whether the prices were low or high. There was no way someone on her first day was going to read a handful of files and find the problem. First I needed to understand what kind of contract this even was.

A short while later the conference room door opened. The Representative and the Sales Team Leader came out with the guests.

"Let's get a meal before you go. There's a decent place nearby."

"Then we'll take you up on that."

After the four of them left the office, Yoon Seojin came out last, the contract in her hand. She sat, tapped a calculator a few times, and picked up the phone.

I pretended to look at my monitor.

She hung up and wrote something beside the contract. I hesitated, then spoke.

"Assistant Manager."

"Yes?"

"Will I be the one handling the Saehan Retail account?"

"You'll learn it from Senior Associate Park and then take it on. Why?"

"The Representative mentioned it. I wondered if there were materials I could look over ahead of time."

It wasn't entirely a lie. If the work was actually going to be mine, I needed to know it.

Yoon Seojin glanced at my screen and nodded.

"The product materials are in there, and I'll send you the schedule. Some of it is still being adjusted, so don't pass it along outside."

"Understood."

A moment later a file arrived on the company messenger. The first delivery was a Friday, two weeks out. Beneath the quantity and the delivery location was a field for the packaging-draft approval date, and only that field was empty.

"Has the packaging design not been settled yet?"

"I was told it's still being revised."

"And delivery is in two weeks?"

"Yes."

I enlarged the schedule a little. These were products meant to ship in custom boxes. The copy printed on the box had to be locked before an order could be placed, and the finished boxes had to arrive before packing could start.

Two weeks feels tight.

Of course, the vendor they already used might have had the timeline arranged. There was still far more I didn't know than I did.

"Which packaging company do you use?"

"Hanseong Packaging."

"Was the date set with their production lead time included?"

Yoon Seojin lifted her hands from the keyboard.

"Why?"

"At my last company, just receiving the printed boxes took about ten days. If the draft still isn't final, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was wondering when the packing was even supposed to happen."

She stood and looked at my screen.

"This is the schedule the sales team gave us last week. They said the design was nearly finished."

"Ah. So it must have been coordinated separately."

"I thought so too, but......"

Yoon Seojin brought the contract over from her desk, turned through a few pages, and spread it on mine.

"I asked about this earlier, actually. For the same reason."

Where she pointed, the delivery deadline was written — the same date as the schedule.

"Whether we still have to hit this date even if design approval runs late."

I read what was written beneath.

The meaning itself was clear enough. If the goods weren't what had been ordered, they didn't have to take them. The problem was that those specifications still hadn't been decided.

"What did he say?"

"That the schedule was already agreed, so there was nothing to worry about."

"Then shouldn't the revised schedule be on file as well?"

I felt a flicker of regret the moment it was out. She wasn't showing me this because she didn't know.

"I'm sorry. I went through something similar at my last company."

"What happened?"

"The client changed the wording, so we had to reprint the boxes. The products were all finished, and we still couldn't ship them."

I'd looked at those boxes stacked in the warehouse several times a day. Nothing was wrong with the products, but if the receiving side said no, they couldn't go out.

Yoon Seojin looked down at the contract.

"We should start by confirming how far it's actually gone. When Senior Associate Park gets in, we'll look together." She glanced at the wall clock and added, "Let's eat first. It's already past noon."

Only then did I realize I was hungry.

When I got back from lunch, Senior Associate Park was already at her desk.

"You're the new hire, right? Sorry I was out on your first day."

"Not at all. I'm Han Doyun."

"Park Jihye. If we work through this week together, you should be able to pick up most of it."

She set a thick file on my desk, saying she'd organized the cautions for each client. Handwritten notes were stuck here and there — places where you had to check the photos before accepting a return, places where you couldn't schedule a shipment after three in the afternoon. This was what a job handover actually needed to be.

Turning a page, I asked, "Is the Saehan Retail account in here too?"

"Not yet. Sales was handling that one directly."

Park Jihye pulled a chair over and sat.

"They said they'd be passing it to us from here on, but I've only been processing what was handed to me."

Yoon Seojin came over from beside us.

"The packaging materials for that — the order went in, right?"

"Yes. Last week."

I looked up from the file.

"It's already been ordered?"

"The Team Leader said it was urgent and told me to put it through first. Why?"

"The draft was confirmed?" Yoon Seojin asked.

Park Jihye blinked.

"He told me it was confirmed."

The conversation stalled. Park Jihye looked from one of our faces to the other, then turned her computer on.

"One moment. There should be an email."

Yoon Seojin and I moved to her side. A search of the inbox for Saehan Retail turned up several messages. One email from the Sales Team Leader had a single file attached, and the end of the filename read final. The body was short.

It had been sent last Wednesday. In the folder I'd opened that morning, a revision had gone up on Friday.

"Was there any word of a change after that?" Yoon Seojin asked.

"Not to me."

The smile left Park Jihye's face.

"What changed?"

"We're checking now. First, let's open the purchase order."

The quantity was thirty thousand. The whole of the first delivery. The attached draft opened with it. Beneath a photograph of the airtight container, the product name and the specifications were listed. It resembled what I'd seen that morning, but the mark at the upper right of the front face was different.

"The logo, here." I pointed at the screen. "It's different from the one in the shared folder."

Park Jihye opened the two files side by side. The Wednesday file carried Saehan Retail's corporate logo. The Friday file carried their private brand logo.

Yoon Seojin took out her phone and called the Sales Team Leader. The ring dragged on. He didn't pick up.

"I'll ask the manufacturer."

Park Jihye picked up the phone on her desk. Once she had the person in charge, she read out the order number.

I watched the monitor. If they hadn't been printed, swapping the file would be enough. Even if the paper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had already been cut, the specs were the same, so it could still be used.

Please let that be it.

Park Jihye looked our way. Her expression alone was answer enough.

When she hung up, Yoon Seojin asked, "How far did they get?"

"They said the full run is printed. Gluing was set to start this afternoon."

Yoon Seojin pressed her lips tight.

Thirty thousand boxes.

I hadn't seen the unit price yet, but it wasn't a quantity you could throw out and remake without feeling it. The cost was one problem. The time it would take to make them again was another.

But is the company really going to fail in seventeen days over this?

Maybe there's something else.

I thought of the contract I'd seen that morning. The delivery date was fixed, and if the specifications differed, they could refuse the goods.

"And the products?"

Both of them looked at me.

"Not the boxes. How far along are the products that go inside?"

Park Jihye scrolled down the purchase order.

"Those have gone into production too. It's the existing product, just with the lid color changed."

"And the color received final approval?"

This time the answer didn't come at once. Park Jihye opened the mail list again, and I stood beside her, waiting as the attachments came up — color codes, product specs, replies from the client. That morning I hadn't even known which materials I was supposed to look at. Now there was one thing after another I wanted to check.

Then the office door opened.

The Sales Team Leader came in and caught sight of us. The hand pulling off his coat stopped.

"What are the three of you doing?"

Yoon Seojin spoke first.

"Team Leader. You told us the packaging draft was confirmed."

"I did."

"A revision went up on Friday. What happened with the order placed on Wednesday?"

The Sales Team Leader walked toward the desk. He glanced at the screen, then shifted his eyes to Park Jihye.

"I'm still sorting that out. All you had to do was wait."

"All thirty thousand boxes are already printed."

His steps stopped.

I watched his face. I'd expected him to ask when they'd finished. We'd just told him the whole run had been printed from the wrong draft. What he asked was something else.

"You called the vendor?"

"Yes. We asked them to hold the next step for now."

"Who told you to hold it?"

His voice rose. Farther back in the office, the keyboards went quiet. Park Jihye looked up at him, her face gone rigid.

I looked at the company homepage still open on one side of the monitor.

Nothing had changed.

I looked at the Sales Team Leader again. He was telling Park Jihye to call them right now and have the work proceed. He didn't even ask whether the boxes were wrong.

This bastard......

Don't tell me he knew — and did it anyway?