The Ace Returns
Our organization's ace, Deputy Director Sun, has returned. He filed his return report. "Hello, boss. I've returned." —powersun(36.8)
"Did you rest well?" —GB(38.1)
I offered a casual greeting about his rest and asked when he planned to start working again.
"I'll start right away. But~" —powersun(36.8)
He let the sentence trail off, so I waited, sensing something was coming. Then he asked if we were really going to keep operating this way from now on.
What did he mean? I stayed quiet and waited. He began to explain, and his point actually made sense. BS, the Sleeping Series—everything felt the same. A little work, then stop. A little more, then stop again. It was exhausting, he admitted.
That was… because Deputy Director, you handled it so well. I figured honesty was best. He was another pillar of our organization, after all.
"To be honest, I told you to stop because it was dangerous." —GB(38.1)
I explained the situation. The product had sold so fast in such a short time that we were walking a tightrope. A bit of market research and the new drug would be identified, pulling us straight into an investigation. The government was already pushing its "war on drugs" slogan. I should have caught it earlier, but I missed it and put everyone in a difficult spot. I apologized.
"Then how about this?" —powersun(36.8)
A management suggestion followed. Release the goods in regular cycles every two or three months. When I asked why, he explained it would create the impression the product was imported. If shipments arrived at set intervals, people would assume it was foreign rather than domestic. That could throw investigators off the trail. It was a reasonable idea, so I told him to keep going.
He added that it would also strengthen our pricing power. Irregular supply created uncertainty on the demand side. I liked it. I suggested we draw up a production schedule right away. He produced one on the spot: BS once per quarter, Sleeping Series whenever a batch ran out.
When I relayed the plan to Yeoni, she said it was good but pointed out a problem. OEM issues, middlemen caught in between—I mediated. When I mentioned the issue to Deputy Director Sun, he answered coolly.
"If there's nothing to sell, we simply don't sell."
Ah… an unofficial quiet period. Educated people really do think differently.
I'm on a plane right now. Miju is asleep beside me. Where are we headed? Cancun. Last month I casually floated the idea to her. It was our first anniversary—let's go on a trip. The moment she heard "travel," her face lit up. When she asked where, I boldly suggested going abroad. She gave me a strange look, then agreed on one condition: we had to greet her parents first. That way we could stay a few days. Huh? Ah… the place I'd mentioned was Cancun, but the round trip alone would take two days. I told her I'd look into the destination later and let her know, then agreed to the greeting. I was curious anyway—who exactly was her mother?
The weekend after I proposed the trip, we set the date. The location: Miju's house.
"Hello. My name is Choi Eunsu." I bowed as I stepped through the front door. It had been a long time since I'd felt this tense. An unfamiliar place. Unfamiliar faces. My social anxiety was creeping up.
"Welcome." A middle-aged woman who looked about eighty percent like Miju greeted me warmly. Beside her stood a middle-aged man who resembled her maybe twenty percent.
"We've got everything ready. Let's eat first."
"Yes, ma'am." I marched to the table like a fresh recruit under strict discipline. A full twelve-dish spread waited. The pressure was immense, but I endured with superhuman patience.
"Eat up." Father-in-law? Too soon. Sir? I still didn't know the right form of address.
My mind only cleared after I'd finished two bowls of rice and a plate of five-colored fruit appeared in front of me.
"You met Miju? Time really does fly."
"Feels like just yesterday she was born~" Watching her father drift into nostalgic stories, I had no idea how to react. The only adults I'd ever really spoken to were the former welfare center director and my hyung. I couldn't exactly chat with the director. As I'd said before, the only people I'd talked to as a kid were hyung and Eunsu. I stuck to yes, no, and polite smiles. Apparently finding the conversation dull, he eventually told me to go and disappeared into his room. The air suddenly felt lighter.
Then came round two with her mother—same awkward reactions. Sensing my discomfort, Miju stepped in.
"Let's greet Grandmother and head out."
Her mother added from the side, "Yes, you look uncomfortable. We shouldn't be greedy. Take care of yourselves."
Permission? Yes! I felt the gravity drop from ten Gs to normal, like a fighter jet leveling out. By the time her mother finished speaking, I was floating in zero gravity.
Grandmother lived there too? Miju's house was a four-story villa. Grandmother was still healthy enough to stay on the fourth floor—no elevator. Miju lived on the third; the second floor was rented out. So her family owned the building.
I rang the bell. A voice from inside told us to come in.
"She must be praying." As I stepped through the door, I couldn't tell if this was an ordinary home. It felt more like a fortune-telling shop—not flashy, but charged with a certain energy. Just as Miju was about to call out, a voice spoke.
"Miju, stay downstairs. You—come in alone."
?? Miju and I exchanged glances. What was happening? Before we could react, the voice came again, sharper.
"Can't you hear me?!"
In a small voice, Miju whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. She has some spiritual gifts. I thought we'd just greet her quickly since she's been doing better lately. I'm sorry."
"..."
"Just go down. I'll talk to her."
Desperate to escape, I turned to leave. The voice thundered from inside once more.
"Where do you think you're going?! I said come in!"
I was terrified, but I obeyed.
"It'll be fine. I'll just greet her and come right out. Go on ahead."
I sent Miju downstairs and opened the door. Inside stood a folding screen painted with a general's statue and what looked like an immortal sage. In front of it sat an elderly woman.
"That girl finally brought a demon into this house."
Then she burst into tears. She wept miserably for nearly a minute before suddenly laughing, her expression turning resolute. It was grotesque—an old woman cycling through sobs, laughter, and stern resolve.
"Get out!"
She snapped. Earlier she'd demanded I enter. I fled down to the third floor like I was escaping. Miju was waiting outside the door. My first visit to her house had been extreme. She apologized over and over. I told her it was fine. Nothing had happened. Don't worry. She walked me out and drove me home. Then she said, "Let's go to Cancun."
"Where is that?"
She might not know. I hadn't known either until I was dragged there once.
"A city in Mexico. Beautiful beaches."
She looked flustered, but I persuaded her. I knew someone there. I already had the tickets. She insisted on covering the expenses. She was cute. There used to be no direct flights to Cancun, but as it regained popularity as a honeymoon spot, direct routes had opened. It felt just like Hawaii. We flew business class—empty of actual business travelers. At Incheon, the boarding sign changed, and moments later the announcement called business and first class to board first. When I told her, she just stared blankly. Business passengers board before economy. She looked completely smitten.
On the fifteen-hour flight we alternated between sleeping and eating. Before we knew it, we had arrived. It hadn't felt boring at all—thanks to Miju beside me. It was her first time in business class, and the attentive service from two flight attendants looking after only sixteen passengers left her flustered in the best way.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Cancun International Airport."
At the announcement, passengers stirred and began gathering their things. We were the first to deplane. Being treated like VIPs felt good.
"Hey GB!!"
Our ever-reliable Uncle Gonzales greeted me. Only his speech pattern remained the same—his appearance had changed completely. Before, he'd looked like a construction worker. Now he was pure Casanova. A touch of that flashy singer vibe, plus plenty of gold jewelry. Life must be treating him well.
"Hola! Gonzales."
When I suddenly answered in fluent Spanish, Miju's eyes widened beside me. Her shoulders still hadn't come down since yesterday. After a quick catch-up, we left the airport. A sleek Mercedes van waited in the parking lot. Something felt off. Why had he changed so much?
He dropped us at a hotel overlooking Cancun Beach, told us we'd visit the village tomorrow, handed over a list of good restaurants and a stack of Mexican pesos, and suggested we enjoy the nearby sights and food. It felt a little suspicious, but I accepted. We spent the rest of the day on our first date. Glad we came from day one.