A Pawn for the Board

Ark Industry Headquarters, the Vice President's office.

Beyond the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the Gangnam cityscape spread out in a single sweeping view. At the center of it all sat Vice President Jin Sehoon, legs crossed, radiating arrogance.

His expression was sour, to put it mildly.

It was only natural. At the [Salon] inside The Archive, he had been humiliated—publicly refused, right in front of executives from every rival company, by some nobody who'd only recently gotten famous.

Any man's pride would be bruised. Jin Sehoon, who had gotten nearly everything he'd ever wanted in life, was bound to take it worst of all.

"Managing Director Han."

"...Yes, Vice President."

"You've done a fine job all these years, and I know it. Our [Ark] hunters have posted the industry's lowest accident rate while still delivering results. I rate that highly—very highly. And that's not all, is it? Low accident rate, and a high clear rate to boot."

Praise with neither head nor tail to it. But Han Taeseok could instinctively sense what lay beneath the flattery.

A man of his position—a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Vice President, and one with a pronounced streak of willfulness at that—didn't hand out compliments for free.

Which meant he wanted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠something, and this was the lead-up. Without a doubt.

"Haha... thank you. Though the results hardly came from my own talents alone. It was your generous support, sir, and access to headquarters' AI that made the difference."

"Right. With Yuseong Group as our parent company, there's no one more secure than [Ark]. We take care of our support, don't we? So—here's what I want."

Jin Sehoon's smile widened, his eyes glinting with something sharp.

"Let's pull off something this time. The Chairman's agreed to it. Accident rate? Frankly, it can climb. Doesn't matter if a few people get chewed up. While you're handling this, I won't hold you to your other numbers at all. In exchange..."

Jin Sehoon clenched his fist as he spoke.

"That—what was it—Corporate Slave Life. That masked clown. Let's produce just one guy with more impact than him."

"...I'm sorry, what? Why him, all of a sudden...?"

He knew of the man, naturally—recently risen to near-sainthood in the industry. But being told to pick a random upstart hunter and make someone more popular than him, out of nowhere...

Besides, this was nowhere near his actual job. He couldn't help being flustered.

"Recruit someone new, or get an existing employee a special procedure—I don't care which. Artifacts? Equipment? Procedure fees? I'll throw money at all of it. Our [Ark] needs a 'star,' someone who can become the face of the company!"

Han Taeseok clicked his tongue inwardly.

Here we go again with this idiot.

A star, of all things. Was he planning to sell faces for a living?

To Han Taeseok, a thorough businessman through and through, hunters were frankly just miners who dug up resources—consumables, nothing more. Star quality? What did that do for corporate profits?

And even if they built one up, imagine the disaster when the man botched a statement or got caught up in a personal scandal.

They'd be manufacturing their own risk.

"Vice President, with respect—the essence of the hunter business is stable resource acquisition and processing. Cultivating a star player and selling an image is Midas's game, not our direction..."

"Ugh, how stifling can you get! This is exactly why you're still stuck at Managing Director."

Jin Sehoon glared at him, eyes bulging, scolding like a frustrated schoolteacher.

"Do you not see how the hunter world works these days? The public doesn't care about who digs up resources anymore! Overwhelming power! Heroes! They want a 'symbol.' The moment the public gets the impression that we have one man like that, industry leadership is ours! ...That's what the investors will think, anyway."

Leadership, sure. The investor bit was probably just pasted on for plausibility—and had he gotten slapped down trying to scout Corporate Slave Life himself?

Or maybe he needed another trophy to trot around on top of the Special Response Team.

Han Taeseok barely swallowed the insults for this clueless third-generation chaebol brat, bile rising to his chin.

"But... even if I try, Executive Director Song over in R&D will push back. Feelings are still raw internally over the Gigantic Arm incident. Additional artifact loan approvals absolutely will not come down."

"Ah, that old fossil? Don't worry about him. I'll give the approval myself. Use my name when you go to pull them! And besides... Managing Director Han Taeseok. When did you become so negative? I distinctly remember telling you that's a bad habit of yours..."

At this point it was practically a toddler throwing a tantrum in a toy store, but there was nothing to be done about it.

"Let's do this project right, for once. And if it goes well... that artifact Park Jinchul trashed under you last time, and the recent slump in results—I'll shield you from all of it."

"...!"

It was an offer he couldn't refuse.

His eyes snapped wide open.

He was already tearing his hair out over Park Jinchul's wildly ill-timed blunder—and now it looked like a little help with a chaebol brat's playing pretend could make the whole thing go away.

On top of that, it was the perfect way to buy time.

If I can shake off the performance pressure right now... I can buy all the time I need up to the AI operator delivery contract with Cheka.

And once that contract went through, a project like this wouldn't matter one way or the other.

He'd etch a new success story—the AI Operating System—into the industry, and then it was a promotion to headquarters and done.

Thinking it over now, taking this on meant buying time no matter how it played out. With the Cheka contract a matter of when, not if, this proposal helped him in every possible scenario.

Han Taeseok curled up the corners of his mouth and bowed his head deep.

"Understood, Vice President. I'll set the board properly this time."

"That's it! That's our Managing Director Han. I'm leaving it in your hands!"

Back in his own office, Han Taeseok dropped heavily onto the sofa and loosened his tie.

"That lunatic... does he think the company's his personal playground?"

Well, fair point. The parent company, Yuseong Group, was his grandfather's, after all.

The curses came spilling out unbidden, but his mind was already spinning fast.

To set a board, he needed information.

The target is that Corporate Slave Life everyone's talking about.

How the man had risen. Exactly what abilities he had, what kind of performances he put on.

And above all—

Where he's going to show up next.

Predict the man's next appearance, flood the site with [Ark] hunters, and lay the stage. Then deck someone out in company-supplied artifacts and outshine him solo with a flashier performance—or...

Exploit the man's weakness, stomp him flat, and rise over the corpse.

Either way worked.

There was just one problem—

Who exactly is supposed to do this analysis?

The brutes in the field exploration teams were hopeless, and the kids in his own Strategy Planning Office were pulling all-nighters and weekend shifts just preparing the Cheka contract paperwork.

Short-staffed, as always.

But he couldn't exactly strip his core people away for the Vice President's pie-in-the-sky orders.

No matter how you sliced it, even doing this well, Chairman Jin Jung-hoon was hardly going to rate it as an outstanding achievement and promote him to a headquarters-level executive seat.

Which meant, in the end, the Cheka contract was the main event.

And if I fail at that?

If the prediction missed the mark, he'd have to absorb the Vice President's screaming with his whole body.

That much was unavoidable either way—but at worst, like Park Jinchul, another one of his own people could take a hit to their record.

And with every scrap of his resources currently being poured into Cheka, he wanted those resources preserved as much as possible.

What I need is a moderately competent lightning rod. Preferably one with no ties to us.

A piece that was easy to use and easy to discard. Someone with time to burn, who'd do as he was told, yet competent enough to sell the Vice President on results. Someone so uncertain of success that if the outcome turned to garbage, he could cut the tail off by blaming that person alone.

Then a name flickered through Han Taeseok's mind.

The guy shuffled off to the sidelines, twiddling his thumbs—on his way out anyway.

It's not going to be a long project, so no harm done.

Han Taeseok pressed the intercom with a faint, unpleasant smile.

"Get Team Leader Kim Doyoon in here. Right now."

The moment I stepped into the chief director's office, Managing Director Han Taeseok was pretending to review document approvals, glancing my way from the corner of his eye.

I stood there blankly, waiting for him to call me over. It didn't take long.

Han Taeseok tossed his pen down as if the whole thing bored him and spoke.

"Team Leader Kim. You haven't got much to do these days, right?"

"...I'm in the middle of wrapping things up, so there's some slack, yes."

"Then earn your keep. I told you to take it easy before you leave, but sitting at your desk staring at the wall? It looks bad to the others and it's just uncomfortable for everyone. Might as well handle one job before you go."

Then, with the air of a man doing you a favor, he flung a scrawled memo from his drawer across the desk.

"You know Corporate Slave Life, right?"

"...Sorry?"

"The Vice President seems to have taken a real shine to that guy everyone's been raving about. Comb the internet, shake down fellow hunters, track down whoever filmed his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠videos at Midas—whatever it takes. Gather up everything on him."

Less a memo than a chores order, really.

"No need to make it a formal report. Just throw something together and bring it to me. It'd be a waste of my busy kids' time, that's why I called on you."

That was Han Taeseok for you.

In other words: his own people were too precious, and he didn't want the responsibility falling on them—so he'd dump the grunt work on the guy already slated to resign.

Swallow the sweet, spit out the bitter.

Since the Vice President himself had ordered this, if I failed, he'd get burned in some direction no matter what—but this was his will to minimize it.

He's even setting up an insurance policy against responsibility?

His game was transparent.

If it succeeded, he'd be 'Managing Director Han Taeseok,' the man who squeezed value out of company personnel with zero waste. If it failed, or the prediction missed—well, he'd explain it away as the work of some soon-to-be-departed employee who'd held a grudge and cut corners on the research.

And of course, keeping his own loyal hands safely clear of the whole affair went without saying.

"Team Leader Kim. Your severance approval paperwork is still sitting on my desk, you know. The stamp just... doesn't seem to want to go down."

A threat that wouldn't hold water on any level, layered slyly beneath the surface.

Once upon a time it might have made me flinch. Now, honestly, it was a threat that only earned a snort.

"You'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to see your exit through to a clean finish, won't you? Handle this one thing neatly, and I'll sign off on your severance immediately—with a special bonus added on top. Otherwise... well, you know, if we go by the regulations and bring in an audit, the final settlement could drag out another month or two."

So petty it was almost impressive—sometimes I marveled this man was an executive at all.

But at the same time, I couldn't let that pathetic display go by without doing something about the smirk twitching under his lowered gaze.

Nothing on earth was funnier than watching Managing Director Han Taeseok's brain churn through this particular scheme.

Because I'd read the work order, you see—

'Cultivating Corporate Slave Life, a star player hunter?'

This wasn't leaving the fish with the cat. It was handing the fish to the cat and asking for it back polished.

"Understood. If that's your order, sir, I'll follow it. Thank you for looking out for me right to the end—I'll work hard."

"Good, good. That's our Team Leader Kim, quick on the uptake. I even went to the trouble of inventing work for you so I could give you a little extra on top of your severance. It's nothing difficult, so take your tiiiime with it. Then again, analysis is your one real strength, isn't it? Meticulous to a fault, but that's part of your charm."

Han Taeseok waved his hand, shooing me toward the door.

The moment I stepped out of the chief director's office, the laughter I'd been choking back burst out of me.

If you're going to pick the wrong person for the job, by God, pick wrong with style.

He wanted me to analyze myself and predict where I'd turn up next?

'I'm the one holding all the information. He's just told me I get to build the board exactly to my taste.'

He'd tossed it out like it was nothing, but this was an absurd opportunity—Ark's capital and manpower, with Vice President Jin Sehoon standing behind me, mine to move as I pleased.

I could steer Ark's exploration schedules, then cut loose in a dungeon set up precisely the way I wanted.

A stray thought crossed my mind: thanks to that fool Han Taeseok, I might just cash out a severance package on an entirely different order of magnitude from the one he'd "granted" me.

'If we're doing this, I'd better pick out a proper honey-trap dungeon for us.'

Not a honey pot for them, of course—for Corporate Slave Life.