The Prodigal Maknae Makes His Escape

BANG!

The door slammed open so hard it looked ready to come off its hinges, and there stood Park Jin-chul, right on schedule.

Perhaps because, as always, he'd arrived the latest of anyone on Field Exploration Team 1 — the same old scenery unfolded before him, no different from any other morning.

"Hey, maknae. What the hell are you doing instead of brewing my coffee? You got the briefing ready for today or what?"

Choi Min-woo had vanished on his leave, yet Park Jin-chul went looking for the guy before he'd even set his bag down.

Needless to say, no answer came back.

Silence.

At that, Park Jin-chul, who had just arrived and was busy unpacking at his desk, frowned.

Naturally so — the kid who was supposed to come sprinting out with a "I'm so sorry, sir!" was nowhere to be seen.

"That little punk really did disappear on me, huh…"

He craned his neck around, finally confirmed the absence for himself, and asked the room.

"Hey! Seok-hyun. Where's Min-woo? Did he go to the bathroom?"

But Assistant Manager Lee Seok-hyun, who'd arrived at the office earlier, already knew Min-woo wasn't coming in at all. To keep the sparks from flying his way, he simply shrugged as if he knew nothing.

So Park Jin-chul strode over to Choi Min-woo's desk —

— and was met with a spotless, completely cleared desk, a locker emptied and wiped down, and a big fat sticky note slapped square in the middle of the monitor.

For the record, I was the one who put that note up there.

And right next to his company messenger profile floated a bright red status indicator.

"…Huh?"

Park Jin-chul's mouth hung open, slack with disbelief. He blinked several times as if refusing to accept reality — and then his face flushed crimson, the veins in his neck bulged, and he roared.

"HEY!!! Where the hell did that bastard go?! And why is his phone turned off again!"

"I-I don't know either… I came in this morning and his desk was just… empty…"

"Are you insane?! Who's supposed to do the field support TODAY?"

The office descended into chaos in an instant.

The other employees buried their heads like dead mice, while Park Jin-chul raged around the room, spitting fury in every direction.

…And me?

I sipped my coffee with a side of cookies, watching the whole spectacle the way one enjoys a fire from across the river.

'Nicely done, our Min-woo. Good instincts as always.'

That timing of his was first-rate hunter material. He'd slipped out by a hair's breadth just before Park Jin-chul showed up for work.

And look at that — the moment I was gone, Park Jin-chul got his skull cracked in a dungeon, sensed something was seriously off, and hasn't come out since. Ghost's touch, I swear.

I don't know whether he's planning to burn through all his unused leave and job-hunt or what, but considering a hunter's body is their livelihood, it was a very wise choice.

Meanwhile, Park Jin-chul — after a good round of jabbing his finger at empty air — paused, breathing hard, and swept his gaze across the office.

'Starting to figure it out, is he?'

I could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Choi Min-woo had gone on leave without so much as a word to him.

Then who was the one person who could have approved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it?

As Park Jin-chul slowly turned toward me, I could read every thought in that skull of his, and an innocent little smile crept onto my face without my permission.

Shall we call it the sheepish grin of a mischievous kid caught red-handed?

Park Jin-chul's glinting, murderous eyes locked onto me with pinpoint precision.

I, of course, feigned ignorance and stared intently at my monitor —

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Furious footsteps shook the floor. He slammed his palm down on my desk and growled.

"Hey. Team Leader Kim."

"…"

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Park Jin-chul shoved his face right up to mine, all but grabbing me by the collar.

"You approved that bastard Choi Min-woo's leave, didn't you?! Answer me!!"

I slowly raised my head and looked at him.

Eyes bloodshot scarlet. The look of a man ready to devour me on the spot.

Old me would have flinched away in disgust, or humored him just enough to make it go away —

But today, I really couldn't be bothered.

After all, it was thanks to this guy that I got forced out of the company in the first place. I didn't owe him an apology.

Instead, I pondered how to raise this man's blood pressure with maximum efficiency.

And drawing on the considerable database of human archetypes I'd built over my years of office life, I made my decision.

"I'll ask you one more time. You were the one who signed off on it?"

In response, I widened my eyes and shot back with the most wronged, innocent-as-a-lamb expression I could muster.

"…Pardon? Of course. I approved it."

The moment I so breezily confirmed that I'd green-lit a twenty-day stretch of leave, Park Jin-chul froze, briefly at a loss for words.

"…What? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"The request came through, so I reviewed it against regulations and processed it. Is there a problem with the procedure?"

"A problem?! Hey! You do realize today's a field day, right? What kind of lunatic burns twenty days of leave in one shot! Cancel it. NOW!"

Park Jin-chul bellowed at the top of his lungs, but I shrugged with exaggerated helplessness.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Team Leader."

"What?"

"Once a document has cleared approval, it cannot be rejected without the requester's own consent. You know this. If you want it canceled, you'll have to go get a written agreement from Min-woo personally."

Min-woo's phone, of course, was switched off.

"…"

Park Jin-chul's eyebrows twitched violently. The impact was even better than I'd hoped.

"Who gave someone on his way out the door the authority to approve anything anyway! And for someone who isn't even on your own team!"

At that, I let out a tired, put-upon sigh.

"Well, Team Leader, my authority is still valid since HR hasn't revoked it yet. All I did was dutifully press the button when an approval request appeared in my work queue. Please don't shout at me like that — it hurts my feelings."

"HEY!!"

Unable to contain himself, Park Jin-chul kicked the desk. The partition rattled, and the liquid in my coffee cup sloshed.

He showed more restraint than I expected. For a hunter, that's practically saintly —

But even this game of ignoring and needling him only lasted so long before a thought crossed my mind.

Thinking back on my old company life — I was always cleaning up after bastards like that, always steering things toward the safest, most helpful direction. And yet the only thing that seems ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to have stuck in anyone's memory is the time that bastard raised his voice at me.

And Park Jin-chul — I've thought this for a while now, but the man has no manners whatsoever.

He can't remember when he's the one trolling, but the one time I do it back, he puts on a whole show.

"'Hey' is informal, by the way."

Park Jin-chul stared at me blankly, floored by the unexpected remark. At this point he looked genuinely dizzy.

But honestly, am I wrong though? If being sensitive about fieldwork excuses everything, then sure, fine.

Park Jin-chul must have decided I was finally ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠willing to speak like a functioning adult, because he recovered his composure and pressed on.

"Have you lost it? Things are tight enough as it is — do you even know what state the field is in right now, pulling a stunt like this?! Who gave you the right to hand out twenty days of leave on your own whim?! You're taking a dump on my face, is that it? Huh?!"

His voice climbed the staircase, register by register, until it arrived at a full-blown roar.

But me? I couldn't care less.

The situation only got tight because he faceplanted on his own and cracked his head open, and the state of the field is frankly none of my business.

I'm a man on his way out, after all.

So instead, keeping my blank expression in place, I added one more line in a soothing tone — the very picture of concern.

"Team Leader, surely you're not worried the work will grind to a halt?"

"…What?"

"Come on, you're the team leader of [Arc], one of Korea's foremost corporations. If the whole team seizes up because one maknae went on vacation… wouldn't that be the stranger outcome? You're severely underestimating your own abilities, sir."

"You absolute lunatic… You picking a fight with me on your way out? If the operation collapses, will you take responsibility? Will YOU take responsibility!!"

He went on a rampage, sweeping the documents off my desk. His ragged breathing sounded like a freight train.

Grumbling all the while about how the company could sue me for damages — utter nonsense,

and words that carried less weight than an eyelash with someone like me, who knew the company's true situation inside and out…

More importantly, I'd had my fun. It was time to come out swinging the honest way.

I wiped every trace of the good-natured expression I'd been wearing clean off my face.

"Team Leader Park Jin-chul. Watch your language."

Startled by my sudden change in demeanor, the rampaging Park Jin-chul flinched to a halt.

"What?"

"Under the internal bylaws on workers' paid annual leave entitlements, using remaining leave days is a laborer's legitimate right. And Employee Choi Min-woo, in particular, hasn't managed to use a single day of leave in the two years since he joined — thanks to your 'field circumstances,' Team Leader. …Poor kid."

"Ha. So now you're going to recite the employee handbook at me?"

"I recently sat down with Employee Min-woo for a consultation, and it turns out he's suffering burnout syndrome from excessive work-related stress — depression on top of that…"

Then I drained the bitter coffee on the table in one go and said:

"While he's not under my direct field supervision, as the chief operator managing risk for the entire team, I hold final approval authority. You're well aware of that. Personnel management is also one of the risks I'm responsible for. Accordingly, I approved the request appropriately, in accordance with regulations and my authority. Is there a problem?"

I'd set out to stick it to him, but even by my own assessment, my justification was airtight.

And honestly… the only reason things ever got this bad is that Park Jin-chul dumped so much grunt work on Min-woo all the time.

In any sane company, one guy taking leave wouldn't bring operations to a standstill, would it?

'Not if you hadn't shoveled every menial task in the team onto Min-woo from day one, that is.'

Park Jin-chul just stood there, mouth opening and closing in a dumbstruck gape. He seemed to have nothing left to say.

"…Y-you… ugh…"

I wondered if he'd run out of lines ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for good — but no.

"Then fine, but what kind of lunatic in this world approves TWENTY days of leave in one go, you son of a—!!"

Yeah, talking to him is pointless. It really makes you wish people had listened when you spoke, though, doesn't it?

If he had, I wouldn't have gone this far.

And if there's one decisive difference between Park Jin-chul and me, it's this: I've been tempered so thoroughly that I've completely mastered the art of dealing with people who won't listen.

'Not that I plan on doing much more company life anyway.'

Honestly, I can afford to be a little more reckless.

With a grin, I drove in the final wedge.

"I sent him off because I have every faith that a team leader of your caliber can manage just fine without one maknae. Well then! Fighting, sir!"

"You little SON OF A—!!"

Having lost all reason, Park Jin-chul hoisted his fist into the air.

Behind him, I caught sight of his teammates scrambling over in alarm. The fist of a hunter operating on the front line carried that much weight behind it — if Park Jin-chul made even a small mistake here, it would be a disaster.

But Park Jin-chul's fist was fast.

Whoosh—!

A threatening, ponderous fist came hurtling right beside my face, close enough to graze my ear.

One clean hit from an awakened hunter's fist meant a guaranteed trip to the emergency room.

In that heartbeat —

The other employees couldn't bear to watch to the end and screamed —

But my eyes never blinked once.

Even before he'd swung, I had already seen his entire trajectory, perfectly.

'Not like it's going to land anyway.'

Within my ashen vision, that red trajectory carved through empty air.

A guy without the guts to actually hit me, putting on a show because he's scared.

WHOOM—!

The sound of a violent gust whipped past my ear. In truth, it was Park Jin-chul, arm still outstretched, who wore the more startled expression.

'Did he expect me to flinch, or stumble backward? That's the textbook reaction, I suppose.'

But with me staring straight at him without so much as a twitch, it was he who ended up flustered.

In the stillness, I slowly curled the corner of my mouth upward.

It was, just a little, enjoyable.

Apparently I'm not cut out to be a good person either.

"All that puffing and posturing about hitting me — why the sudden stop?"

"…Wh-what?"

"Go ahead. Hit me. Why don't you finish the job, sir?"

Holding Park Jin-chul's wavering gaze dead-on, I murmured in a low voice.

"Assault within the company means immediate dismissal and criminal charges, no questions asked. And factoring in that hunters face aggravated penalties… the outcome would have been quite a sight to behold."

"You little—"

"I'm on my way out regardless, so why not? Go on, take one swing while you're at it. We could leave the company hand in hand, the best of friends. I'm loyal enough to keep you company on the way out the door."

At those words, Park Jin-chul's face hardened, and muttering something about needing fresh air, he stormed straight out of the office.

A little more rampaging would have been entertaining, but he seemed to have recovered a scrap of his senses.

Of course, I had no intention of leaving it at that, either.

'So then — shall we go see how Team Leader Park Jin-chul handles a field expedition without our Min-woo for the first time in years?'

I'd been meaning to test out my newly forged equipment anyway, weapons crafted from the freshly processed mana stones included. I'd logged it as an outside assignment, and the field exploration team's schedule was set for that very dungeon. The timing couldn't have been better.

I'd unfortunately missed the show when his skull got cracked, but this time I could watch the mess he made from a front-row seat — the anticipation alone was delicious.

And at the same time, my fingers curling inside my jacket brushed against the cool touch of a box cutter. It felt very, very good.