The Employee Manual
A salaryman who carries his resignation letter in his pocket. Isn't that a common story?
We didn't head to the usual conference room. Instead, we went to the newly completed building. The chairman's building—might as well take a look, they said. Last time I saw it, the interior work was still underway, but it seemed the finishing touches had been done well. The exterior was white, which caught me off guard. I smiled and asked Director Jo if a white building didn't give off the wrong image for a hospital ward. He answered that they avoided colors that might agitate patients and chose white to provide mental stability. It looked clean, so that was a plus.
The first floor had an on-call room and a treatment room. At the end was an auditorium that resembled a banquet hall, and they suggested we go there. When we arrived, a modest meal had been prepared.
"Let's eat with Secretary Ko and Cheol-min too."
"It's a celebratory occasion. How about a glass of wine?"
"You can sleep it off before you leave, can't you?"
"Yes, that sounds good."
"Where did the wine come from? It looks excellent."
"Hyeonseon brought it. She mentioned they're importing from France these days."
It was from the shipment Valentin had supplied. We enjoyed the meal in a warm atmosphere, sharing stories about mutual friends and daily life. Because we all shared secrets, it felt good to speak without restraint.
Director Jo brought up an employee from the domestic sales division.
"There's an interesting fellow among the people I work with."
We listened with curiosity. Executive Ha seemed to already know about him. Since our organization operated on a cell structure, internal regulations limited knowledge to only one rank above. Of course, reality was different. We looked the other way if someone knew a little more. For example, if a deputy manager knew about a section chief, we'd just warn them to be careful. But if someone learned three ranks up, the internal affairs team would get involved. That made training difficult whenever new recruits joined or when someone was caught by authorities and reassigned. Still, training had to happen, so we did it on the job—OJT style. Because personalities and styles varied, it was all very ad hoc. Even the protocols for when someone got arrested differed. When I was involved, I told them to just apologize and promise never to do it again, but apparently some seniors taught their juniors to resist or run if they could.
I'd heard about it through Secretary Ko's reports and had left it alone, thinking it was simply an organizational limitation.
"That fellow is a manager now, and he submitted a report with behavioral manuals for entry-level employees, assistant managers, and managers."
I grew curious about someone trying to overcome our organization's limits. What exactly had he written? When I asked, Director Jo showed me on his phone. The name was striking: New Employee Training Manual. It looked just like the kind of document a regular company would hand out on someone's first day. I skimmed the table of contents—it was thorough. Skylight usage, how to receive product, how to deliver product, how to make deposits, and so on. The next file was the Assistant Manager Promotion Training Manual, covering subordinate management, rank-based limits, authority, and responsibilities. There was no manager file, but even the table of contents looked detailed to the point of being meticulous.
"Director, that's impressive."
"Haha, isn't it? I thought the same when I first saw it. Who comes up with something like this?"
"He did it without being told. He realized it was necessary after reaching manager rank himself. That's even more commendable."
"Hmm… Would it be all right to distribute this publicly?"
"Well, everyone here probably wouldn't make it out if they got caught anyway."
Executive Ha, last time you said it was a first offense and they'd probably just get a warning and release, didn't you?
Since we couldn't accept it for free, I praised the effort and ordered a bonus payment. Then I asked for opinions on whether we should publicize cases like this to boost organizational morale.
"Let's do that. What could be more satisfying for a salaried employee than a promotion and a bonus?"
After the meal, we returned to the main building—the usual meeting place. They served dandelion tea; the aroma was pleasant. Because there weren't enough seats, Cheol-min and Secretary Ko stood while the executives discussed business. I was curious too—when exactly had we joined the trillion-won club?
"It feels like just yesterday that Executive Ha and I were making gram-level deals and running deliveries. It's terrifying how fast things have moved."
I must have phrased it poorly. For the next thirty minutes, I had to listen to Executive Ha's "back in my day" stories—his parents passing away, cleaning up after his younger sibling's trouble, getting beaten by the manager while working as a waiter, meeting me and starting deliveries, and so on. It was awkward to interrupt because Secretary Ko and Cheol-min were listening intently. He ended by giving me the credit, and only then did we change the subject.
"Thank you. Could you brief me on the current funds situation? I received the financial statements from Secretary Ko, but something seems off."
"That's actually why I asked you to come down. It didn't feel like something we should discuss over the phone."
Listening to the explanation, it felt like we were the shadowy figures behind a European war. Executive Ha's words were layered with speculation, but they made sense. Around the time I returned from the Philippines, Deputy Seong had been working on something: a London listing. GBC had already been listed in the US, Korea, Hong Kong, and Singapore, and they had been preparing for expansion into Europe. Approval came from the exchange a week before the special operation began. Using the organization's surplus funds and assets held on the domestic exchange, we issued additional shares. Even without any special operation, the price had steadily risen for two months. They had controlled trading volume, but the continuous influx of capital was alarming.
"Deputy Seong says it looks like Russian money, but there haven't been any sanctions yet."
"Is there anything we can do about it?"
"Two options were proposed, but I don't like either of them."
If Executive Ha had made that judgment, we could have just dropped it, but I was curious.
"What are they?"
"The first is to keep lowering the unit price with our own product to encourage more capital inflow. The second is to report it to the London exchange and hand over the information."
"So for the third option, I'd rather we just leave it alone. Pretend we don't know."
"The Jeong-eup factory investment has been completed, so we don't have anywhere to spend the money anyway. If they're sending it up on their own, maybe we should just watch and do nothing."
The biosimilar factory must have wrapped up nicely. I felt a chill. I remembered what Deputy Seong had said before—if someone had more money than us, they'd swallow us whole. If it was Russian government money, we would be the ones getting swallowed. How could an individual beat a government?
"Yes, let's do that."
I decided to trust Executive Ha's judgment. Truthfully, I had no better ideas myself.
"Are we done?"
"Not at all. We're just getting started."
I sighed. Nothing ever ended easily. Last time I came, the organizational restructuring alone had taken a whole day.
"Go on, then."
"The chairman mentioned cash, so I looked into it. I received word the day before yesterday, and it seemed like a good opportunity, so I wanted to report it and proceed."
My eyes lit up. Vladimir's duke was still looking for foreign currency, and the margins had been quite good.
"There's a general election next month, isn't there?"
"We've received a request to launder election funds."
Us? I asked for an overview of the operation.
"It came through Accountant Kim. They want to exchange physical goods for GBC."
That struck me as odd. Didn't bribes usually come in cash?
"These days, who meets face-to-face to hand things over?"
The older guys had been telling me stories lately that felt strangely unfamiliar. Director Jo, sitting beside me, chuckled as if he'd caught the same vibe.
"You thought they'd be handing over shopping bags in the trunk, didn't you?"
Still, Accountant Kim was getting a little too bold. He knew far too much. He even knew we were the handlers and still made the request.
"Sounds like a good proposal. Whether it's won or dollars, accept it all."
"But we should probably keep a closer eye on Accountant Kim."
"He's not SSS-grade, but he's SS-grade material."
When I asked who the SSS-grades were, he pointed at me. Ah, right.
"Speaking of the election, what happened with Prosecutor Seo?"
"Ah, that bastard. Sorry. I've been through too much because of him."
Executive Ha seemed to harbor deep resentment and launched into a long explanation.
"That prosecutor was so good at drug investigations that I had him looked into. Turns out there was a reason."
"What was it?"
"His father was a drug addict. Early education, you could say."
"We dug into it too and found out he's from the generation above the Busan Cider crew."
"He must have hidden the fact that he had a son."
"Yes, that's right. He was a sailor. When he sailed foreign routes, he'd bring stuff back, distribute it in Busan, and use it himself."
"Forget the father. What's the current situation? Last time he got picked up, it seemed to wake him up."
"He's likely to be released due to internal pressure within the prosecution."
Life in the organization was complicated. As a star prosecutor, he was in the media spotlight and performed well, so promotion within the organization was guaranteed. The problem was his seniors. In the prosecution's strict seniority culture, if a junior overtook a senior, it was an unwritten rule that the senior had to leave. But what if the junior was already advancing quickly and then sped up even more? Then a whole line of seniors would have to go.
"If they don't make a decision, maybe we should push him out for good."