Expansion (1) "Let's Make One More Identity Each."
"Let's create one more identity each." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
On the way back from the meeting with Yangcho hyung, I found myself more concerned than expected about the farm's lax security and the safety of a founding member like him. When I brought it up with Deputy Director, he offered a solution that actually sounded reasonable.
"Then let's make one for everyone at section chief level and above. How much would that cost?" — GB (38.2)
"If we make them at the president level, it'll be far too expensive. Let's go with one-time-use versions." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
"That would bring the unit price way down." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
"Then make Deputy Director, Director Jo, and Assistant Director Seon at my level, and the rest at section chief and above as one-time-use." — GB (38.2)
"Understood. I'll proceed." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
"And prepare emergency funds in dollars, yuan, and yen—about six months' living expenses each." — GB (38.2)
"Thank you for your concern. I'll take care of it." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
After a short conversation about identity laundering with Deputy Director, I returned to reality. I found myself at a restaurant overlooking Mokpo Harbor, where the stir-fried octopus was surprisingly delicious. They say even a fallen cow can be helped to its feet—maybe it was time I did the same for myself. I spent the first day shaking off work stress, enjoying good food, and taking in the sea view. The next morning, I headed to Yeosu to inspect the fourth farm.
The road from Mokpo to Yeosu was rough. Without a direct highway, I had to switch between national roads and highways, winding through the route for quite a while. As expected from an area famous for its petrochemical complexes, there were plenty of those rounded storage tanks. The Yi Sun-sin Bridge, honoring the patriots who saved the nation, looked grand and impressive. Yeosu had invested heavily in infrastructure after hosting the Expo, and the hotel I booked near the night view of the sea offered excellent service. I had arranged to meet Manager Cheongnok in the afternoon.
After arriving in the morning, I stopped by Yi Sun-sin Square, picked up snacks from famous local spots, strolled along the romantic pocha street with its ocean view (even if it wasn't the famous night sea), and took a ride on the marine cable car. The scenery was better than I'd expected. Even if people complained about environmental impact and poor cost-efficiency, it seemed like a solid tourist attraction. That explained why politicians kept pushing cable cars in their election promises.
In the afternoon, since early check-in was available at the lodging, I ate lunch and headed straight there. I told Miju to rest and take a nap, then went to meet Manager Cheongnok. Though we'd only spoken through Skylight until now, this was our first in-person meeting. I felt a strange mix of excitement and guilt. He'd done so much to help build and lead the organization to this point, yet I was only greeting him now. At the same time, I was eager to finally pay my respects and discuss the organization's future.
"Hello?"
Past D-Ocean City Resort in Yeosu, at a small harbor, I met Manager Cheongnok. Our organization really was consistent—everyone showed up in work clothes rather than suits. I wondered if Assistant Director Seon would be any different.
"Boss?"
His reaction was oddly similar to Yangcho hyung's.
"Yes, good to meet you. Thank you for all your help so far."
"Not at all. Thank you for accepting such an unreasonable request."
?? I had trusted Manager Cheongnok when he took over the farm, but apparently he saw things differently.
"I'll normalize operations as quickly as possible and begin deliveries."
Who had put that pressure on him? His farm was supposed to be a spare.
"Ah, yes. Take your time. No need to overdo it."
"I'm sorry, but would it be possible to visit the island?"
"Of course. I'll take you there."
I couldn't understand why the members treated me with such rigid formality. It didn't feel like they were simply dealing with the boss who paid them. Following him, I saw a one-ton truck. He apologized, saying it was all he had. I understood—when you're farming, this was the practical choice. I climbed into the passenger seat without a second thought. When I glanced over, Manager Cheongnok looked uncomfortable. I sensed we had become awkwardly distant, unable to communicate properly. Yangcho hyung was one thing—I could chalk it up to his personality—but I hadn't expected this from Manager Cheongnok.
The fourth farm we arrived at felt similar to the Shinan farm yet different, with far more trees—especially bamboo. Apparently, the islands along the southern coast had been heavily logged illegally in the past. On the bare mountains, bamboo was planted, which was why so many southern islands now had bamboo forests. He also mentioned there were plenty of snakes. Before long, we reached the island. Its shape was slightly different, and everything felt disorganized since preparations were still underway. I told him that, like with Yangcho hyung, we should demolish most civilian houses and leave only one, and that if police or investigators showed up, we shouldn't try to hide anything—just apologize and ask for forgiveness. There were no other notable issues, so I gave the same security advice as before and returned. Leaving the relatively young manager behind to what he called his retirement life, I headed back to the lodging.
Before entering my room, I sent a field inspection report to Deputy Director.
I told him about what had happened over the past two days. The members treated me with too much distance. Was this rigid organizational culture really acceptable? At first, I struggled to explain because I didn't understand Deputy Director's intent with the question. After describing the situation and their reactions, he gave his reason.
"Everyone does it that way."
?? Lately, talking with Deputy Director made me feel like we lived in different worlds. His explanation was this: the risk level here was high, and most people didn't follow orders. Accidents tended to happen over trivial matters. The most common incidents came from the lowest-ranking members. They were selling drugs and committing crimes, yet they'd go to places like room salons and brag loudly.
"I'm the king of drugs," that kind of thing. There were also plenty who didn't fear the organization and skimmed product or transaction money on the side—In my pocket, as they called it. So how did we educate the lower ranks? If someone messed up at first, they got beaten until they listened. If that didn't work, they were expelled from the organization. The expulsion method was rather cruel—they got their brains pickled with our product. Even if they reported to the authorities, the police wouldn't believe them. It made sense; from a cop's perspective, why would a junkie ever snitch on their supplier? But the important part was that all these measures were carried out in my name—the so-called upper echelon. And if that upper echelon actually showed up? Of course they'd be terrified. Listening to him, it sounded like the pinnacle of charismatic leadership. I was apparently ruling as that kind of figure.
Suddenly curious about the organization's structure, I asked for the organizational chart below Assistant Director Seon. He hesitated. Sensing something was wrong, I pressed harder.
From what he said, it wasn't a major mistake, but the number of entry-level members had grown too large. The organizational plan I'd approved had three section chiefs under Assistant Director Seon, three deputies under each section chief, and three entry-level members under each deputy—1-3-9-27. The structure up to the deputy level remained the same, but the entry-level count had tripled. When I asked why, he explained that since our organization had gone nationwide, we needed more hands. I scolded him—hadn't we already discussed creating a separate wholesale organization last time? It felt like the right moment to address it. If he'd reported it, it wouldn't have been an issue, so why had it stayed at Deputy Director's level without reaching me?
"I'm sorry." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
"What's the problem? Do we need to change it?" — GB (38.2)
Deputy Director wasn't the type to act without reason, so I asked why he'd done it and what the plan was going forward. Only then did he report properly.
"Crackdowns have intensified recently, and many workers are leaving, so it's become extremely difficult to maintain entry-level numbers." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
"That's why I recruited extra spares—to raise more obedient ones." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
If he'd explained it that way, I wouldn't have refused. I voiced what I wanted in a reprimanding tone.
"Wouldn't it have been fine if you'd told me?" — GB (38.2)
Deputy Director struck a chord.
"I wanted to take responsibility at my level." — Hamo-hamo (37.0)
So he meant that even if entry-level members got caught, he'd handle it within his own scope? That didn't seem right.
"Let's figure out a better way." — GB (38.2)