A Morning Without Notifications

A morning with no alarm going off.

For a corporate drone, was there ever a sweeter, more unreal luxury than that?

For the past ten years, my days had been waking on reflex to the phone notification that shrieked at me without fail every morning, washing up in a panicked rush, and cramming myself into the hellish commute. That routine was gone now.

I lazed about indulgently, sleeping in, and only rose once the gentle sunlight seeping through the window frame coaxed me awake on its own. Then I brewed some coffee.

"Whew..."

The fragrant aroma of coffee, the quiet of the apartment.

I picked up the silver pig I kept enshrined on my nightstand.

Jingle.

With a cheerful clink, a gleaming metal coin worth three million won dropped into my palm.

"Good morning to you."

A life where money poured in just for existing. If this wasn't financial therapy, what was?

On top of that, my account balance was sitting at several tens of billions of won—enough to idle away the rest of my life—and there was no boss breathing down my neck to get to work. This was paradise.

Of course, I still hadn't cured my mother's illness, and I had no intention of stopping here...

But ever since I'd decided to become a hunter, nothing but good things had come my way.

And then, out of habit, I glanced at my smartphone—

"Wow. It just keeps sliding."

Ever since the Kang Minho fiasco, [Arc]'s stock had been on a steady decline. The company seemed to have genuinely lost the market's trust.

After all, even with rumors this juicy circulating, the price kept falling:

The price was trending down even with a teaser that massive floating around.

Or maybe Na Heera and Park Sangwoo—the ones who got their first taste of easy money last time—simply doubled down on their short position.

Scrolling down through the articles, I found Managing Director Han Tae-seok's smug face plastered across the front page, larger than life.

It had barely been days since he'd forced me out, and his drive was, as ever, truly breathtaking.

Just as I was staring at my phone, the messages I'd been waiting for arrived.

Zzzt—

First, Workshop Master Kim Hyeonji of [Dokkaebi], who had tailored my suit.

Then an unexpected proposal from Managing Director Na Heera.

And—true to form, never one to disappoint expectations—Park Sangwoo, impatiently begging for operating lessons.

"...This guy really doesn't waste any time, does he."

Having leisurely finished my coffee in the morning sun, I got up, packed my things, and headed out.

The moment I stepped into the [Dokkaebi] guild's headquarters, what struck me was a warm, nutty smell of baking bread—utterly different from the rigid air of [Arc].

The sight of employees chatting freely at the lobby café felt strangely unfamiliar.

Totally different from [Arc].

And just as I was passing that scene—as if he'd been waiting for me all along—Park Sangwoo came sprinting down at full speed, socks flying.

"Hyung-nim! You're here!"

Good grief. He treated me like some exalted VIP, and it was honestly a little embarrassing.

Back in the old risk management team, when every one of my teammates got cut and I was left as a lone team leader, things had been rather lonely—so this didn't feel bad at all.

Perhaps also because Workshop Master Kim Hyeonji had told me that Park Sangwoo had been loitering around since yesterday, trying to engineer a "natural" meeting with me.

Watching him beam from ear to ear, rattling off one glowing thing after another about [Dokkaebi] in an obvious sales pitch, I couldn't help feeling a little pleased, honestly.

"And so—not just the benefits, but the survival rate and all that stuff, [Dokkaebi] is just great! I'm telling you! Dangerous dungeon exploration? The core parties handle all of it! And the consideration shown to the baby rookies, letting them build up exploration experience step by step—"

"...Is that so."

Which was probably why, before I knew it, a small laugh escaped me.

"Seems like a good company, [Dokkaebi]. I'll look forward to today's operating as well."

"...!"

Park Sangwoo's eyes went round as saucers in shock. Just as he opened his mouth to say something—

the workshop's private elevator arrived, its doors standing open.

"There you are. I was wondering when you'd show. Do you know how hard Park Sangwoo hounded me to hurry up? I nearly gagged him. Still, I took my time and finished it calmly and perfectly."

Dark circles ringed Kim Hyeonji's eyes—had she pulled an all-nighter?—but her gruff tone carried a fierce confidence in the finished product.

When I took the case she handed over and opened it, a dark navy suit with a subtle luster revealed itself inside.

"Go on, try it on. It's specially crafted thread by thread based on Corporate Slave Life-nim's body data."

"...I look forward to it."

The moment I stepped into the dressing room, slipped on the suit, and adjusted my tie, a strange resonance wrapped around my entire body.

The top-grade mana-conductive fabric clung to my skin as softly as if it were my own flesh, and every time I moved, I could feel an elasticity that seemed to support the motion of my muscles.

Custom-artifact grade, is it?

When I slid my hand into the suit's inner pocket out of habit, the moment my wrist sank deep inside, I felt the space ripple and expand.

A subspace pocket too.

It was roomy enough to hold not just the [Office Utility Cutter Knife MK2] and the [Metal Pig], but other things besides.

Storage with no sense of weight whatsoever.

"What do you think? Try running some mana through it."

At her words, I channeled mana once—and only then did I sense the other features she had woven into this suit.

So it selectively hardens wherever mana flows, raising defense on demand?

That wasn't all. There was even a temperature-regulation function, unmistakable from the gradations of warmth I could feel.

By the time I'd grown certain this one suit could shrug off a lava field or a blasted frozen wasteland alike, an exclamation slipped out of me unbidden.

"It's perfect."

"Of course it is. That single suit cost more than the deposit on a decent Gangnam apartment. And it came out of the [Dokkaebi Workshop], so if it didn't live up to the name, we'd be the ones embarrassed."

Kim Hyeonji broke into a smile brimming with pride.

"I couldn't build it with concept magic stones, but at this level, I'd say I've proven my craft doesn't fall behind that cutter knife of yours. Wouldn't you agree?"

So she was still hung up on that, huh.

"Can you even make something like that?"... I was the one who said something out of line.

"Not at all. That wild child Hyeona over at [Dokkaebi] made a remark that went well past teasing on our side too... shall we call it even?"

Looking at her, she seemed thoroughly satisfied with her own work as well.

Meanwhile, Park Sangwoo—who had been watching all this while swallowing hard— gingerly held out a tablet.

"Then—hate to bring this up now, but you did promise you'd earn your keep, hyung-nim! Today's operating... you'll help me out, right?"

"Of course."

Frankly, I was still more comfortable operating than running around in the field myself, so it wasn't exactly a difficult request.

And so, as Park Sangwoo held out the tablet and I paged through the briefing materials on today's [Dokkaebi] party's exploration zone and raid outline—

This place is...

A dungeon that had recently been strongly suspected of holding the [Element] concept—the very dungeon every major hunter company was salivating over.

The problem was that it sat on such a high floor that simply reaching it was extremely difficult—and the dungeon itself was expected to be brutally hard on top of that.

First operating gig since I quit, and it's quite the high-difficulty venue.

If anything, I figured it would be entertaining rather than boring.

"[Ohsung], [Mir], even [Arc]. Judging by the attendance, it's basically an all-star game."

"Yes, hyung-nim. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠[Arc] especially—the papers say they're testing a new operating system there. That's been all the buzz, but... no need to worry about the others, hyung-nim. You're ready, right?"

Operating was my bread and butter—what exactly would there be to "get ready"? I simply smiled in reply.

"Of course. Although... the exploration's today, on the 21st floor. Are you sure I should still be hanging around here?"

The raid was urgent, but it seemed he'd intended to carve out time somehow and walk me through the ropes for a full day first.

"Aw, come on—who do you think we are, hyung-nim? We're [Dokkaebi], aren't we? Put your worries away, we're leaving right now. Hyung-nim! Looking forward to working with you today!"

With a wave of his hand, Park Sangwoo's figure receded into the distance.

And as he hurried off, breathless, I followed Kim Hyeonji's guidance to the strategic situation room.

A calm, composed air flowed through it, worlds apart from [Dokkaebi]'s usual free-spirited office atmosphere.

Yes—this is what the room should feel like when you're operating. The familiar mood felt right, yet the sight of the room full of people felt oddly strange.

After all, back on [Arc]'s risk management team—until just days ago—there had been a fairly long stretch when I'd worked entirely alone.

But my reverie lasted only a moment.

"Welcome. Park Sangwoo-nim briefed me."

A man in a razor-sharp pressed suit with a staff ID and an intelligent air rose from his seat and offered a slight bow.

"I'm Han Taewoo—chief operator of [Dokkaebi] and the man who oversees operations for our front-line parties. Word is you'll be operating for Park Sangwoo-nim and the [Dokkaebi] front-line party for the day."

"That's right."

"...Still, there's no need to feel pressured. You're a hunter yourself, after all, and rather than handing everything over to you, I suspect Park Sangwoo-nim simply invited you because he wanted to show off [Dokkaebi]'s capabilities. It's said as a joke that great hunters have the makings of great operators, you know."

He said it with a faint smile.

"I didn't call you here to test your operating skill, so relax. Under my support, it's more than enough if you simply observe as suits you and pass along your perspective as a hunter."

"I'll do my best."

Apparently satisfied with my answer and manner, Han Taewoo took his seat among the wall of monitors and began operating for Park Sangwoo's party, which was climbing the Tower as fast as it could on the screens before us.

From what I could see, he was fairly good—

but it would sit a little uneasily with me to freeload after receiving this suit for free.

So once we were inside the dungeon, I decided it might be fun to show them what proper operating looked like on this side of the desk.

The operating I took a certain pride in—no, the operating that had been rated the best in the hunter industry at [Arc], the place where I had been the brain and the core.

The top floor of Yoosung Group headquarters, where all of downtown Seoul sprawled beneath the windows. Yet the air filling the room was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the bright sunshine outside.

"The stock price makes for interesting viewing, doesn't it."

At the old man's low voice, Vice President Jin Se-hoon swallowed dryly, unable to so much as lift his head.

On the table lay a graph of Arc Industry's recent stock price, alongside a report ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of printouts—mocking posts culled from every online community.

"I apologize, Father. But it's only a temporary correction. It won't take long to find its footing again. And... and once the Cheka contract Managing Director Han has been preparing goes through—"

"A correction? That clown you brought in swung his axe at empty air, and it was broadcast live to the whole world—and you call that a correction? My face burns just watching it."

Chairman Jin, founder of Yoosung Group, tossed the papers aside.

"I didn't hand you Arc so you could spout empty vapor about technology this and AI that. Yoosung's roots are people. And a hunter company is the perfect place to learn to look closely at each individual person and feel their worth. But the rumors reaching my ears lately are absolutely foul."

"I—I know. That's why we manage every single field exploration hunter down to the finest detail, and our pay is the highest in the industry. We're attentive to benefits as well."

"...Is that so? And yet, from what I hear this time around, there's been quite a lot of talk about headcount reductions."

"The cuts were support staff, not actual exploration personnel, so there's no real problem. That was implemented efficiently according to the system automation plan that Managing Director Han Tae-seok reported—"

"Efficient?"

Chairman Jin let out a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hollow laugh.

"Se-hoon. No matter how good a machine is, it's people who run it in the end. Do you still not understand why that AI you boasted about behaved like a tin can in the Crystal Cave? Because the ones who breathed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intuition into that machine are gone."

"But on paper, human operator staffing is actually more reliable compared to AI operation—"

Jin Se-hoon protested, but Chairman Jin shook his head firmly.

Then he turned back toward the window and added:

"That's what safety is. Something worth its price, even when the cost is steep. You never notice it when it's there, but the moment it's gone, you notice at once. The industry is already talking, you know. Wondering whether Arc is coming apart."

"Impossible, Father. Once this contract is finalized—"

"Yes. [Cheka] will demand field verification too. Whether you can deliver properly, I don't know. But if you botch it the way you did this time... then it won't end at Managing Director Han. Remember that."

Jin Se-hoon could not bring himself to argue any further, and left the office with a deathly pale face on his way back to [Arc]'s executive suite.

In his wake, Chairman Jin summoned Director Choi, his right hand.

"Have you looked into it a little? There were mistakes made during the personnel restructuring. Am I right?"

"That is... it's not yet certain. No matter how perfect the operation, mistakes happen in the field, and for now it remains within the margin of error—"

"Narrow it to recent months and it's failure after failure, isn't it?"

"That is... yes."

"Then no more excuses. Prepare to reinstate every one of the people who were let go. If someone fumbles again, someone will have to clean it up, won't they? You know it'll take considerable care to win over people who've already been cast out once. Be especially attentive about it. Consider it a lesson for Se-hoon as well—tell him he's to take responsibility and reinstate the ones he cut."

"I'll make the arrangements."

With those final words, Director Choi too withdrew, and Chairman Jin was left alone in the office.

Alone now, he simply kept gazing out the window.

"Still can't tell the gemstones from the gravel..."

Oh Chang-seok sat beside Jin Se-hoon as CEO, yet somehow, a thought flashed through the old man's mind: that [Arc]'s future would not be an easy one.