Left on Read
Left on read...?
The little number 1 floating beside the message on the messenger app vanished.
But no reply came.
In the head office of Arc Industry, Managing Director Han Tae-seok glared at his smartphone screen for a long moment before letting out a hollow laugh.
"Ha, look at this guy. So he's just going to read it and ignore me?"
It was almost impressive. It had only been a few days since he'd quit. The man certainly didn't know when he was well off.
He'd heard the guy had a sick mother. Considering hospital bills, every single day would be draining his money dry—there was no way someone like that could afford to turn up his nose just because he'd pocketed a severance payment.
Granted, yes, he'd been let out somewhat ungracefully. But wasn't that simply how the world worked? You use people when you need them, toss them when you don't, then call them back when you need them again. That was business. That was the reality of society.
And yet this upstart had the gall to leave him—a managing director—on read, even after Han Tae-seok had swallowed his pride and reached out personally, offering to pay him above market rate?
"Tsk tsk... Still doesn't understand how the world works, does he, Team Leader Kim."
Han Tae-seok clicked his tongue and flung the phone onto the desk.
He was probably rolling around at home right now, googling how to apply for unemployment benefits. Then, when the money ran out and he had no pride left to protect, he'd come sniffing around soon enough. He'd seen this type a hundred times. It was laughable.
"Tsk! Don't get any ideas. Opportunities don't come twice."
The world was crawling with operators.
Fine, that Kim Doyoon fellow had some talent, but he wasn't irreplaceable. The regret was theirs, not his.
Han Tae-seok immediately called the secretary's office.
"There were people who worked under Team Leader Kim before they left, right? Bring me the list."
"Ah... you mean the former members of the Risk Management Team?"
"Yes. Contact them. It's been a while since they were let go, but they learned the fundamentals here—they'll at least know the basics. They've probably worked with the operating system too."
The one wrinkle was that some of them had been gone long enough for their non-compete clauses to expire... Still, there were bound to be a few who were available.
At Han Tae-seok's order, the chief secretary left the room with a troubled expression and took up the phone.
And ten minutes later, the chief secretary returned, pale as death.
"M-Mr. Managing Director."
"What? How many said yes? I don't need too many."
"That's... not a single one could be reached."
"...What?"
Han Tae-seok's eyebrows twitched.
"Assistant Manager Lee hung up the moment he heard who was calling. Associate Park... has taken a job at another company, now that his non-compete period has ended. And Deputy Manager Choi..."
"What about Deputy Manager Choi!"
"He said, 'Tell them never to contact me again—I wouldn't look in that direction if my life depended on it.'"
The paper cup in Han Tae-seok's grip crumpled.
Those worthless castoffs the company had thrown away were refusing his summons?
BANG!
Han Tae-seok slammed his fist on the desk and shot to his feet.
Honestly, nothing ever got done unless he handled it himself.
"Give me the phone! I can't stand this."
He snatched the receiver roughly from the chief secretary's hand. On the list already marked through with red lines, Han Tae-seok's finger landed on the very top name.
Section Chief Jeong—the man who, while employed there, had demanded even more aggressively than Kim Doyoon that safety budgets be increased and operating staff be expanded.
...
Sure, things were admittedly a little awkward between them, and the man's non-compete period was still in effect—but in terms of raw skill, he was probably the closest thing to Kim Doyoon the company had ever produced.
Apparently he'd even gotten into a shouting match with Han Tae-seok on his way out the door, which was why the chief secretary had deliberately skipped calling him.
Just this once, we're the ones who need him. Nothing to be done about it.
Han Tae-seok tossed the stolen receiver back to the chief secretary as if discarding it.
"Try him too."
"Pardon? B-but Section Chief Jeong and you have a... history, sir—"
"Nobody hates money. And he can't get hired anywhere else right now anyway—his non-compete still has time left on it. He quit of his own accord, so he's broke too. Pride or no pride, his throat must be parched by now. If we call, he'll come. What choice does he have?"
Han Tae-seok loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair.
The chief secretary swallowed a sigh and, with trembling fingers, dialed the number.
Riiiing — riiiing —
The tone droned on and on. Just as Han Tae-seok's fingers began drumming impatiently—
[Who is this?]
A calm, clear voice came through the receiver. It was a stiff, labored voice—the kind of tone that radiated pedantic stubbornness—and Han Tae-seok's brow furrowed at once, but the chief secretary launched smoothly into the pitch.
"Ah, is this Section Chief Jeong? This is Park, the chief secretary. From the secretary's office."
[...What does Arc want? As far as I'm aware, all accounts between us were settled.]
"Nothing dire, sir. The company has an urgent need for project consultation, so we're reaching out to our former colleagues. The Managing Director holds your capabilities in very high regard and would like to offer you a short-term contract on exceptionally generous terms."
[......]
Silence.
It could only be a yes. The man really must be short on money, then.
Han Tae-seok knew how it went: when you were inside, it was the warmest, most comfortable place in the world and you refused to hear a word against it—but the moment you were out, you couldn't help but miss it.
[How long would the engagement be?]
"It's a short-term project—it shouldn't take more than a month at the very outside. And the pay will be quite substantial."
[...Very well. On one condition: this is the last time.]
A long sigh drifted through the receiver, and the line went dead.
"Hahaha! That's more like it. Business-minded to a T! One moment I think we don't speak the same language, and the next, turns out we always did."
Even the famously inflexible Section Chief Jeong had bowed to money in the end. So what if that Kim Doyoon punk had rudely left him on read? It didn't matter.
He'd already confirmed the system itself was sound; whatever problems remained would be minor ones. Once verification with [Cheka International] was complete, there would be nothing left to prove.
And right on cue, a new notification popped up on his tablet.
Ding.
To: Arc Industry, Strategic Planning Headquarters
Cc: Request for joint expedition into the Dimensional Phase Shift and re-verification of the system
Han Tae-seok's eyes gleamed.
Of course. They'd burned themselves once—no way they'd give up after a single failure. This system was far too valuable for that.
"Good. Very good."
With Section Chief Jeong's temporary return, the re-verification, the demonstration before [Cheka International], the schedule building up in his head—Han Tae-seok licked his lips greedily.
Meanwhile, chaos had broken out at the [Dokkaebi] guild headquarters, thanks to a sudden visit from the Hunter Management Bureau.
Ordinarily, seeing Bureau officials show up at your company meant the odds were very good that nothing pleasant was coming. And yet the meeting room, oddly enough, carried an almost relaxed atmosphere—because of the relationship between the two men seated across from each other.
Zeroth generation. Comrades and rivals both—men who had pressed their backs together and prowled dungeons back in the lawless age of the hunt, before systems and regulations existed.
Lee Geuntaek, Director-General of the Korean Hunter Management Bureau.
And Kim Youngsoo, president of [Dokkaebi], the finest living craftsman in the world and the only hunter of his caliber still capable of standing on the front lines.
"Good tea. Where did you get it?"
Lee Geuntaek remarked as he set down his cup. Kim Youngsoo answered with a sly grin.
Picked it up on my last business trip to Europe. Glad it suits the Director's palate. Want me to sell you some?"
"Quit while you're ahead unless you want to be arrested for taking bribes. Let's get to the point."
Lee Geuntaek's eyes sharpened.
"The Twisted Garden of the Four Seasons. Recently, it was purified."
"Ah, that? Our kids are just talented, that's all."
Kim Youngsoo folded his arms behind his head with practiced ease, feigning ignorance, but Lee Geuntaek did not yield.
"A dungeon [Purification]... by clear time, it's a world record. Cleared on only the second entry, with zero casualties. I know [Dokkaebi] is capable, but this result defies common sense entirely."
Lee Geuntaek's expression hardened.
"Be honest with me. Who is it?"
"...Who's what?"
"Don't play dumb. I had the reports analyzed, and the answer was plain as day. That wasn't the [Dokkaebi] method."
He'd struck the bullseye. The eye of someone who had climbed to his position in this industry missed nothing.
But Kim Youngsoo didn't so much as blink.
"Oh, come on, hyung-nim. You know our chief operator, Han Taewoo? Word is he's been preparing some new operating framework—must have finally hit his stride. And field command? As you well know, our Sangwoo ran it brilliantly."
"Him?"
"People, honestly. Can't trust a soul. Besides, instead of sniffing around for who did it, shouldn't the government be preparing some kind of special commendation? The team pulled off a full [Purification]. A world record—where's the reward?"
Faced with Kim Youngsoo's sly, ironclad defense, Lee Geuntaek's face twisted—then, at last, he broke into a hollow laugh and rose from his seat.
"Aigoo... you insufferable man. Fine, have it your way. An official notice about a commendation for the [Purification] will come down before long."
Lee Geuntaek paused at the door and looked back.
"I don't know what trick you pulled, but it had better not have been anything illegal. It won't stay hidden forever anyway."
Then, with his back already turned as if to leave, he said quietly:
"...And yet—if what you've found is something truly new, something that changes what dungeon exploration can be... then that would be... that would be a wonderful thing indeed."
As Lee Geuntaek departed with that strangely sentimental note, an odd silence settled over the room. Given how fiercely [Dokkaebi] regarded each and every member as family, it was a sentiment Kim Youngsoo could understand better than most.
"...Sangwoo."
"Yes, hyung-nim."
"That man you brought in—it's him, isn't it?"
"...How did you know?"
"You think I don't know what happens inside my own company?"
Kim Youngsoo set down his teacup and smacked his lips, a bitter taste in his mouth.
A talent worth pulling the Director-General of the Hunter Management Bureau out of his office in person. An irregular who rewrote the records—so far beyond what one could believe of a single operator that people assumed something illegal, something dangerous, had to be behind it.
"Sounds like he turned us down."
"He did. He has... a vision of his own. A remarkably firm one."
"Heh heh... got some nerve on him, that one. And here I thought we'd built this company into a place good enough that anyone who spent a little time here would fall in love with it. And even that wasn't enough, was it? I'll have to try harder."
Kim Youngsoo gazed out the window and murmured quietly.
"A shame. Bonds are such fickle things—they turn on timing. If I'd met him a little earlier, before he got so famous... or far in the past, when he was younger and hungrier... he might have become one of ours."
He rose from his seat and clapped a hand on Park Sangwoo's shoulder.
"...Still—hold on to that connection tightly. You know as well as I do: in this industry, people like that, one by one, are what make it special."
All Park Sangwoo could offer in reply was a wry smile, tinged with regret.
The underground workshop of the [Dokkaebi] building.
The moment I arrived, a familiar voice greeted me.
"Look who's here, the Mongolian."
Had she gone completely mad?
She seemed embarrassed about it this time, at least—that much was different from before. But I figured no matter where I went, I'd never be mistaken for an ordinary man again.
So [Dokkaebi]'s famously free-spirited atmosphere has its downsides too, I see.
For her part, Kim Hyeonji today had her hair pulled back tight and wore work clothes—utterly different from the artisan-cosplay act she'd put on last time.
"Please drop that nickname. My parents are perfectly respectable Korean citizens."
"Don't care. You look Mongolian to me. Anyway—you're here to see your sister, right?"
Inside the clean room, Kim Hyeonji cut straight to business, apparently having been briefed in advance by Park Sangwoo.
"I heard from Sangwoo. You received an [Elemental Stone] fragment as your reward?"
"Right here."
The moment I set the [Elemental Stone] fragment—radiating a riot of shimmering colors—down on the table, Kim Hyeonji's eyes lit up.
"And you've come to have it processed here, of course? Passing over Dr. Lee to come to me... you truly do have an eye for quality."
I'll admit, I was a little taken aback. This was a side of Kim Hyeonji I'd never seen before. Last time, she hadn't felt like this at all...
Is it just because the material is that good?
"With this, I could craft something on par with that knife you showed me before... or possibly something even beyond it."
Her eyes were sparkling. Ahh—so the bespoke suit she'd made me, measured against the knife Dr. Lee had worked on with me, had been a sore point this whole time.
"So, about this [Elemental Stone]—what would you like me to craft it into—"
"The suit, obviously?"
Kim Hyeonji grinned slyly, as if she'd known the answer all along.
What on earth did she take me for?
Is this woman insane?
The words died in my throat.