Objectives (5)
"Hahahaha." "救活" (Save me).
Our country's really something. They claimed our families were the victims. I figured we'd all get rounded up together. Back when I was green, I'd seen guys nabbed by the prosecution on charges of forming a violent organization get slapped with ten-year sentences. I was terrified that if the cops dug deep and dragged the lower boss into it, we'd be finished. But the rank-and-file got released without charges, and they said they'd resume the investigation on the deputy once he recovered. The officers seemed to pity them. Word on the side was that they'd probably walk. The section chief got the same treatment as the deputy. Something about washing his hands of it all and living straight from now on. So I had the lower boss quietly cover their hospital bills and living expenses. I asked Director Jo to keep an eye on the police, and he reported it felt like they were closing it as a simple assault case. Lucky for us—or maybe our authorities are just that toothless—anyway, it blew over.
What am I up to? Messing around with the Chinese guys, running clinical trials. I asked why they snatched our people, but they wouldn't talk, so I couldn't be bothered to force it. Just locked them up. Didn't even hit them. Left them in the basement. Open the basement door and there's a narrow passage between the bamboo paths—perfect for stashing one each. Mai-hyung carved out those blind spots during the last expansion, meant for ambushes. One pyeong of hidden space around each corner. Wonder if he knew it'd be used like this. Tunnel work is divine territory; he probably foresaw it. I'm putting it to good use. Still, I checked on them once a day to make sure they hadn't died, carrying a 500ml bottle of water. One day they cursed and got mouthy, so I left without giving it. Next day they wolfed it down like dogs. The time after that they just stared blankly, testing if they could still survive. I walked out. After three days they picked up Korean. "Save me." Then they asked through the app what kind of person I was. The answer came out fine. A pitch-black basement is terrifying, after all.
From A to Z—they were all from the same rural town four hours outside Shanghai. After elementary school, with nothing else to do, they'd gone to Shanghai to make money and fallen into this line of work. They confessed they'd come on assignment. When I asked who gave the orders, they spilled so easily I stayed away for two days. It felt suspicious. When I went back after two days, they grabbed my pant leg. "Water, please." So I gave them water. Asked again. Same answer. Trust was established. I made a mental note to repay them later. From then on I went down once a day and dosed them. Senior's recipe was brilliant. How he pulled the effects so cleanly. The first batch kept them in a mild high; they laughed nonstop for an hour. When I upped the dose they collapsed for some reason—laughing the whole way down. It was grotesque. The guy in the second corner got a smaller dose. He laughed, then raged, then went blank, then laughed again. The world of drugs runs deep.
Why bother? Didn't Director Seon and I already discuss product development? Three proposals landed on my desk. I was stunned. Reading them, I wondered if such things could even exist. But if they thought it was possible, there had to be a reason. I cracked open the pharmacology texts and Senior's diary. Similar effects existed, so I started researching. The so-called Sleeping Series. Tentative names based on effect: Pink, Red, and Yellow. Well, tentative names usually stick anyway. I've got no talent for naming. Red Sleeping, Pink Sleeping, Yellow Sleeping. Sleep duration had to stay short—one to two hours max. I didn't ask why; it was all written down. Longer sessions would kill turnover, and clients couldn't spare that much time for skin care. Fine.
The requested effects were… inspired. Red boosts aggression. Like some kind of potion. Whether it was Director Seon's idea or borrowed from somewhere, they called it stress relief. In reality the user just thrashes a bit. Even now we strap people down during anesthesia; if the effect stays controllable at that level of restraint, it'll work. In dreams, though, it should feel like you're carving through enemies single-handedly. Pink heightens libido and sensation—no further explanation needed. They wanted the lower body relaxed on the way out. Yellow maximizes the high and dopamine rush. Effect: pleasant sleep. That's it. This one's the hardest. Effects trigger randomly. Bad mood before inhalation? Red bleeds through. Pent-up frustration? Pink shows up too. More testing required. Tried it the next day. They slept fine, but cried. Muttering in their sleep. Ran it through the translator—calling for their mother. Failure, right?
I handed the research order to Yeoni, who was on hiatus, and told her to start BS production. We'd restructured. The lower boss and I had each given a little ground on the org chart. Losing a line in Bucheon made the overhaul urgent. Truth was, that was also why I'd ignored the three parasites below. First step: promote Director Seon to deputy director and run a solo system. I voiced concern. "You sure?" The lower boss just said, "He's capable." Then came the line that convinced me.
So the sales department would run under Deputy Director Seon with a 1-3-9-27 structure. When I asked how to handle lower-level staffing, he said hand over the current lists for deputies and employees, retire two section chiefs, and give Deputy Director Seon full authority. The lower boss's suggestions were too aggressive, so I double-checked. How exactly would he "retire" them? In name only—he'd fold them into his own direct department. When handing over the client list he'd tell Deputy Director Seon they'd retired, then quietly pull the best ones for his own team. Ah… those "solid" guys I mentioned before were probably the two section chiefs. I approved. Logistics would run under Section Chief Cheongrok and Deputy Yeoni. Gave Yeoni the deputy title and a raise. Couldn't figure out why she looked so apologetic—she works harder than anyone.
Production farms would operate under a three-way system: Shinan, Yeongcheon, and the Brotherhood Welfare Center. Yeoni would concurrently manage the Haman Factory. Director Jo would handle internal and external intelligence plus audits; his two deputies would assist with funds and production respectively, while the lower boss oversaw everything. Then Director Jo sent up a management proposal. I was startled. "What's this about? You're scaring me."
?? I suggested distributing rice-cake money to the families, raising salaries, handing out bonuses. The reply came back: can't stand out. Most members came from nothing; sudden lavish spending would draw strange looks from outsiders. Fair point. I had roughly five billion sitting in the Sky Bank app myself. I was rich… just from the North Korean, Filipino, and Nakamura deals. But I'm not flashy. Meaning I don't spend it.
Ah, right—need to tell them to secure more vehicles. The Brotherhood Welfare Center was for operations, after all.
I froze for a second, then said okay and approved the restructuring plan.
Raw materials arrived from Nakamura. As clinical trials progressed, the organization visibly stirred back to life. Hiring reports came in from Deputy Director Seon. Products began moving at speed. The Welfare Center wasn't just stable—it kept expanding. Director Jo must have spent the money well; he even secured tribute from nearby military bases and prisons. When I asked how, he said lottery. Pick one similar welfare facility in the jurisdiction at random, supply the goods, do an on-site inspection, and if approved, just process the paperwork. When I asked what work that actually was, he said delivery. "It's a factory, right?" I pressed. He explained they simply bought the product, packaged it, and delivered it. Everything ran that way, apparently. Didn't seem worth pursuing, so I let it go. As our main business, we also took in three orphans. Should probably go see their faces soon.
New Year's arrived. I exchanged greetings with the lower boss, Director Jo, Deputy Director Seon, and their close contacts, then launched the Sleeping Series we'd developed with the three parasites. Clinical trials had sped everything up. Fed them well, but they went fast—almost a shame. I contacted Deputy Director Seon to report completion and asked about sales plans. He said he'd assign it exclusively to one section chief under him. Used the phrase "street kids," which rubbed me the wrong way, but he insisted marijuana and BS should go to people from that background. "Your boss came from the streets too, didn't he?" I'd given him full authority, so I didn't interfere. Of course, he proved himself with results before the holidays.