The Lucky Totem
It wasn't people that welcomed me back to the Philippines. It was a mountain of paperwork.
"How is there this much backlog?"
And that wasn't all.
"At nine, you have a meeting regarding the art competition. At nine-thirty, a meeting for the exhibition. At ten, you'll receive the operational plan report for the camping tour, and at ten-twenty, the report on the GoGo Casino update is scheduled. After that, you must attend the integrated resort operations meeting. Lunch is scheduled with the Philippine Hotel Association. For your afternoon schedule..."
It wasn't even eight in the morning, yet Scott had marched in and started rattling off today's schedule like a machine gun. Should I seriously move to a different place? When I was in Seoul, no one nagged me no matter how long I rolled around in bed. The moment I set foot in the Philippines, the grind started immediately. I already missed my hotel in Seoul. I yearned for those quiet, peaceful hours.
"Can't we push some of this back? I haven't even adjusted to the time difference yet."
"Everyone has been waiting solely for your return, Boss."
"They can handle it on their own."
"No, sir. We need you."
"What are you talking about? Whenever I go to these meetings, everything is already prepared. I literally just sit there and nod. Why do you need me? You guys are perfectly capable. Why do you keep dragging me into everything?"
Hearing my complaint, Scott looked at me as if I were asking an incredibly obvious question.
"Do you really not know why, Boss?"
"What? Is there some other reason?"
Scott hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Everyone believes you are our Lucky Totem."
"What?"
Scott's words cured my jet lag instantly. I snapped wide awake, my eyes flying open. The sheer absurdity of it chased away all my fatigue. I thought I had misheard him. A lucky totem in the twenty-first century? What kind of archaic nonsense was this? A lucky totem was supposed to be a cute plushie or a wooden doll carved with shamanic symbols. Treating a grown man like me as a lucky totem was just bizarre.
"What on earth does that mean? A lucky totem?"
"It's a highly credible theory, sir."
"Credible? This?"
"Hasn't everything you've done since coming to the Philippines succeeded, Boss? No matter how ridiculous the business or bizarre the plan, the moment your hands touch it, it turns to gold. I think everyone just wants to bask in that energy."
"Haha. I'm actually speechless."
"It's a natural consequence of your flawless track record. Honestly, everything you touch prospers, doesn't it? That's why they prepare everything beforehand and wait for your final approval. They want to absorb your lucky energy while giving their reports and getting your signature."
"So they're dragging me to these meetings because they view me as some kind of totem doll?"
"Well, they are your businesses anyway, aren't they? It's good for you to receive reports and confirm things before they proceed. And the managers get to carry out their work blessed by the energy of the Lucky Totem. Plus, you can spot any areas that need adjustment or refinement. You always know exactly where to apply pressure, Boss. Because you are our Lucky Totem."
I was more dumbfounded than angry. But why did Scott sound so incredibly proud while explaining this?
"Scott. You don't actually believe this, do you?"
"..."
"Seriously?"
"You misunderstand, Boss. I do not believe it."
"Right, of course—"
"I worship it. You are my religion, Boss."
Oh, my aching head. Having this kind of conversation before eight in the morning... I desperately wished I was still dreaming.
"Why? Why on earth did you fall into such ridiculous behavior?"
"You took a guy who did nothing but fight and turned me into this. You made me a real human being."
"I didn't make you anything. You did that yourself."
"No. If it weren't for you, Boss, I'd still be rolling around in the dirt, brawling on the streets of Bohol."
"Sandro was the one who picked you up, not me."
"General Manager Sandro might have recruited me, but you were the one who showed me how to live. You gave me a reason and the motivation to learn more. I will offer you my absolute, eternal loyalty."
Please don't. Don't do that. I beg of you. I wished they would just treat me like a stray neighborhood cat. Happy to see me when I pop up, slightly worried when I'm gone for too long. That would be perfect.
Then again, Scott really had changed a lot. At first, he was just a thug who happened to be good at fighting. He had followed me around as a bodyguard, but his overeager antics had only made things awkward and uncomfortable. So, I had taught him the absolute basics of protection. Now, he shadowed me whenever necessary, seamlessly playing the dual role of bodyguard and secretary.
Now that Patrick had departed, Scott was trying his best to fill his shoes. Of course, Scott couldn't replace Patrick all on his own. Patrick was our general manager. He might not have handled tasks like a specialized professional, but he possessed the rare talent of driving actual professionals to work their absolute hardest. That was why our gears turned so smoothly.
But with Patrick gone, his responsibilities had to be split among several people. Sandro, Ana, Scott, and I had all taken a piece. On the business side, Ana took the lion's share, while Scott took charge of my personal schedule and external affairs. In fact, Scott had practically begged for it. He said he wanted to serve me. I had told him that if he wanted to shadow me as my right-hand man, he needed to back up his security skills with administrative competence—and the crazy bastard actually went and learned it. That was exactly why he was standing here this morning, rattling off my schedule.
He was still rough around the edges, of course, but I always appreciated a man who took on a challenge. That alone was reason enough to keep Scott by my side. His shortcomings would improve with time.
"Fine. Treat me like a totem, a doll, or boil me down for soup, do whatever you want. What was the first item on the agenda?"
"The art competition meeting. At nine, in the conference room."
"Got it. I'll head down to the conference room by nine."
"I will come to escort you, sir."
"Don't you dare! I can walk by myself."
"I will come to escort you."
"I said, don't come!"
In a corner of the office, inside the conference room, Im Yu-na and a representative from the CCAD—the Bohol Province Art Competition Organizing Body—were waiting.
"Boss, these are the results of the competition. Over here are the winning entries, and over here are the pieces selected to be produced as official merchandise."
Im Yu-na presented the submissions, neatly categorized into winners and merchandise designs. Once we gave our final approval, the competition would officially draw to a close. Looking over the selected pieces, I realized splitting the categories had been a stroke of genius. The quality of the merchandise designs was outstanding, but the actual winning entries were mediocre at best. Unlike the merchandise, which Yu-na had selected using her own strict artistic standards, the criteria for the winning entries were incredibly murky. Quite a few of them had no business winning anything. Of course, I knew exactly why. The governor had likely pocketed some bribes, accommodated a few personal favors, or simply wanted to show off. They had selected the winners based on names and backgrounds rather than the art itself.
I felt a wave of relief that we had capped the winners at twenty and the total prize pool at one million pesos—about twenty-four million won. If we had left the numbers open-ended, it would have been a nightmare. The governor would have demanded more winners and a larger prize pool, and it would have been incredibly difficult for me to refuse. It was already painful enough to throw away one million pesos on such mediocre art; if we had spent more, I would have been absolutely furious. It wasn't the money itself that angered me. It was the fact that far superior pieces had been rejected. One might ask, weren't those superior pieces selected for merchandise instead? But the merchandise category was strictly for designs that translated well onto physical products. It wasn't about the artistic value of the painting itself. Consequently, many truly exceptional artworks had been discarded. It was a shame, but it was something I had resigned myself to from the very beginning. We had agreed to hand over the winning slots to the politicians anyway, so there was no use crying over spilled milk.
"I've reviewed them. The pieces look great. You can proceed with this selection."
"Thank you, Boss. We will proceed as planned."
"The CCAD will be hosting the award ceremony, correct?"
"Yes. It will be held at the CCAD main hall."
"So once the CCAD hosts the ceremony, the competition is officially wrapped up. Thank you for all your help during this process."
"Not at all. We learned a great deal through this competition as well. It made us realize just how many talented artists reside in Bohol. On that note, would it be alright if I made a small request?"
"What kind of request?"
"Could you please attend the award ceremony, Boss?"
Why on earth would I go to an award ceremony? Just hand them the prize money and be done with it.
"Hahaha. Of course, I should. However, I have quite a few overseas business trips lined up. If you share the schedule with my secretary, I'll do my best to accommodate it."
"Thank you so much. Even if we have to delay the ceremony, we will make sure to schedule it so you can attend."
How pathetic. Now, lies slipped out of my mouth the moment I opened it. I'd have to tell Scott to invent a six-month overseas business trip. I had absolutely no desire to drag myself to that ceremony. It wasn't like the winning art was even good. I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.
Once the CCAD representative finished their business and left, only Im Yu-na and I remained in the room. The next item on the agenda was a meeting regarding the exhibition featuring the merchandise designs. Manager Kang Jae-ho was supposed to join us, but he hadn't arrived yet. Left alone in the conference room, a strange, heavy air settled between us. The temperature in the room felt like it was rising. To break the silence, I called out to her.
"Ms. Im Yu-na?"
"Yes? Yes!"
Her face flushed a deep, explosive crimson. What was wrong with her? Was she sick? Her face turned red every single time I called her name. Was she born with a weak constitution? I was genuinely starting to worry.
"Are you feeling unwell? Your complexion doesn't look very good."
"No, I'm perfectly fine! But... did you have something you wanted to say to me?"
"I was going to ask about the merchandise production, but I can ask later. Make sure to take it easy."
"Okay..."
Just then, Manager Kang Jae-ho appeared at the door. Instead of stepping inside, however, he stood there, awkwardly scanning the room.
"Is it alright for me to come in? I didn't... interrupt anything, did I?"
"What are you talking about? We were waiting for you."
In contrast to my welcoming response, Im Yu-na's expression instantly darkened. Flushing red one second, turning gloomy the next... she seemed to have a lot of issues. I really needed to get her a comprehensive medical checkup soon. Once the exhibition wrapped up, I'd send her back to Korea to get examined at a proper hospital. Caring so deeply for my employees' health... I really am a pretty decent boss.
"Shall we begin the meeting, then?"
"I'll give you a brief overview. The theme of the exhibition is Unseen Bohol, showcasing the hidden, undiscovered sides of the island. We have fifty-four pieces scheduled for display. Since the primary objective of this exhibition is to select the final designs for merchandise, we've designed the layout to allow visitors to vote..."
"Sounds excellent. Manager Kang, how far along is the venue preparation?"
"Well, I think showing you in person would be much faster than explaining it with words. Do you have a moment right now?"
"Of course. Let's go take a look."
We headed down to the basement of the Emerald Resort, where the exhibition was to be held. The space was far larger and more spacious than I had anticipated. The soaring ceilings completely erased any claustrophobic basement feel, instead creating an atmosphere that naturally drew focus to the artwork. Of course, Manager Kang had clearly poured an immense amount of effort into it.
"So all that's left is to hang the artwork?"
"Yes, sir. Because the space is so vast, we erected partition walls. We designed a specific flow of movement so visitors can browse the gallery in one direction and cast their votes for their favorite pieces."
"Perfect. Proceed with this plan. When does the exhibition open?"
"It's scheduled to run for a month, starting in fifteen days."
"Even though it's a free exhibition, don't just hang the paintings and call it a day. Keep a constant eye on things. Hire docents or guides if necessary, and make sure there are always staff members stationed on-site."
"Understood, sir."
When I stepped out of the Emerald Resort, Sandro was waiting for me. Come to think of it, his eyes looked a bit strange too. Don't tell me this bastard believes in the totem nonsense as well?
"Alex. I've been waiting forever."
"For what?"
"I've got something to show you. Follow me."
I followed—or rather, was dragged by—Sandro to a lot where dozens of motorhomes were parked. In one corner, high-end camping gear was neatly laid out.
"What is all this?"
"Don't you remember? You said we should launch a camping tour."
"I did. But wasn't the plan to just start with a few vehicles?"
"That was my plan too, but our market research showed massive demand. So I expanded it a bit."
"People don't usually call a fleet of this size 'a bit.' Can we even manage all of these?"
"It's fine now."
"Huh? What do you mean, it's fine now?"
"You saw it. You confirmed it. That means it's guaranteed to succeed now."
What do you mean it's guaranteed? It's not fine at all!
The day finally ground to an end. The reports had been endless, and the people who viewed me as their personal totem had dragged me from one meeting to the next without pause. It was work I had always done, but after taking just a few days off, everything felt incredibly fresh, difficult, and foreign. I caught myself wondering how on earth I had managed this grueling routine day in and day out.
To wind down, I cracked open a can of beer and turned on the television. A football match was on. I turned off my brain and stared blankly at the screen as the commentator's voice filled the room.
"The players need to push harder! They need to run that extra mile!"
"They can't just focus on defending! They have to keep moving!"
"As the saying goes, offense is the best defense! Our players need to play with much more aggression!"
Sitting on the sofa, I froze. It felt as if a lightning bolt of realization had just struck me. Of course. Offense is the best defense. Why hadn't I thought of attacking? I had been foolishly trying to defend, to protect what we had at all costs. They say a hundred police officers can't catch a single thief. No matter how tightly we locked down our borders, we couldn't stop the flow of drugs. If that was the case, we had to go on the offensive. Instead of defending, we needed to strike. Our target wasn't Seoul—it was China. We had to take over the Chinese market. Now that my goal was crystal clear, I knew exactly what needed to be done. I picked up my phone and dialed La Fei.