Unscheduled Delivery
As she rummaged through her bag pulling out a file, I suggested we move somewhere else. We headed to the café beside the lobby, and when I offered to buy her a drink she asked for an espresso with an extra shot. I ordered the same for myself and we sat down. She pulled out the file and began organizing her notes. Glancing over, I saw it was pure Power J material—class syllabi, study plans, and to-do lists crammed onto every page. It looked like she had detailed plans for every single course she was taking this semester. Even the diary beside it was packed full.
"Oppa? Or sunbaenim? What should I call you?"
"Sunbaenim is fine."
"Here, read this. It’s my plan for the liberal arts class."
She handed me a single sheet outlining the next fourteen weeks. Each week had a reference number; beside week two it said "choose partner," with a note reading "2-1 or 2-2." There were monthly participation plans and weekly activity schedules. Next week’s entry read: Gwangjang Market date. As I read further I realized she had written down everything she wanted to do—cherry blossom viewing, hiking, amusement parks, night views, and more. She started explaining each week’s plan in detail: what time we would meet, what we would do, what content to include in the report.
"Hubae, you don’t have to go this hard on a liberal arts class… It’s way too packed."
"Just a second."
She dug out another sheet from her bag and gave it to me. The document number on this one was 2-2. The first sheet had been 2-1. The two plans were polar opposites. The second version scheduled only four meetings for the entire semester, and the only tasks listed were choosing a presentation topic and preparing the slides.
"I made Plan A and Plan B. I think Plan A is better, but I didn’t want it to be just my idea."
The kid wasn’t completely without social sense, so I decided to take it in a positive direction.
"Let’s go with Plan A. Thanks for putting all this together. See you next week."
I had a feeling she had shown this exact sheet when she was trying to find a partner. No wonder no one had taken her up on it. Most people were just there to coast, not treat a liberal arts class like a major requirement. She had probably scared off every classmate who might have paired with her. I wasn’t exactly skilled at planning dates myself—I usually left that to Miju—so if someone was offering to carry me through the project, I might as well accept the free ride.
After the meeting I was on my way home when I received a message from Director Ha.
Mexico? That could only be Cancún.
When I didn’t answer, Gonzales seemed flustered and went quiet.
I was starting to feel the same way. When I asked what he had sent, the answer was exactly what I feared—product. A hundred kilos of it. He could have at least given me a heads-up.
If that American wanted to use me as a middleman, he should have said so first.
I sighed and asked how I was supposed to receive the goods.
A hundred kilos meant a thousand packs. When had he even cut them all?
I contacted Director Ha, told her the shipment was mine, and said I would head down. I also asked her to pull one team from security. The moment I mentioned the security team she started panicking, so I clarified it wasn’t an operation—just manual labor—and told her to send only Eun-seong’s team. We would meet in Cheonan.
On the way down I grumbled to the American and Gonzales that next time they should give me advance notice. The American ignored me completely, but Gonzales agreed to call ahead from now on. Still, the last time he had bought a huge amount from me, so this felt off. Asking the American would get me nowhere, so I asked what to do with the product. He told me to bring it to Itaewon. I agreed and continued to Cheonan.
It wasn’t the same factory I had visited last time for the site inspection. After passing the guard post and entering the parking lot, I saw the factory lights were on and a temporary warehouse had been built in the yard. From the outside it looked like a storage area for construction materials, but it was spotless—exactly what you would expect from a pharmaceutical plant. Four containers sat in the yard; one was being packed with daily necessities like washing machines and furniture destined for Mexico.
I called Team Leader Park to let him know I had arrived. A young man I had never seen before came running out of the office near the entrance and asked if I was the president. He looked underage. Could I even put him to work?
"Is Team Leader Park upstairs?"
"Yes, sir. This way, please."
I followed him into the office. Yeoni was waiting by the door in a wheelchair.
"Welcome, sir."
She looked exhausted. I asked how she had been since the last incident and took her hand, apologizing. She started to cry. The atmosphere turned awkward, so I changed the subject to the young man I had just met.
"That kid looks young. Is it all right for him to work here?"
"It’s fine, sir. He may not look it, but he’s over thirty."
Ah. Baby face. I steered the conversation back to business to escape the awkwardness.
"The container from Mexico needs some work. Do we have space?"
"I’ll get it ready. This is your first time here, isn’t it? Let me introduce you."
"Myungjun oppa, sorry, but could you take me over so I can introduce the president?"
So the thirty-year-old’s name was Myungjun. His tone carried a distinctly pink hue. Lucky guy.
Outside, a forklift for containers was already waiting. Myungjun lifted the container and drove it toward a small warehouse beside the main factory. The rest of us entered the nearest building, which turned out to be an automated packaging line. Bottles like Vita 500 were filled, boxed, and stacked automatically on conveyor belts. Workers only had to move the finished boxes into larger cartons for final packing.
"This is the OEM line. Quality control is solid and we never miss deadlines, so the Gyeongnam suppliers are considering switching to us. They’re still weighing the offer."
"They’re trying to drive the price down again, huh?"
Some things never changed. We continued to the second building. The entrance was well disguised: "Radiation Laboratory – Authorized Personnel Only." A radiation symbol was prominently displayed on the door. Even I wouldn’t have wanted to go in, but Myungjun walked straight through. Inside, lab coats, hairnets, and boots were laid out to look authentic. Further in were air-blast dust removers and disinfection stations. Past those, the air carried a faint chemical smell—not overpowering—and reactors and packaging lines were fully installed.
"We have lines for BS, the Sleeping series, and PO in sequence. BS is currently being cleaned, so you can enter, but you’ll need protective gear beyond that point. It’s toxic."
"I’ll be careful, but make sure everyone watches their health."
Mai had set everything up neatly. I asked if there were any issues with the collaboration and encouraged her to keep managing the Busan side well before heading back out.
By the time we finished the factory tour, the security team had arrived. I entered the temporary warehouse where the container had been placed and asked them to secure the perimeter. I felt bad for disrupting everyone’s evening.
"Sorry, but could you set up a work table if there’s one available? And Myungjun, if you have any bags we can use to carry the product, that would help."
While I gave instructions, quitting time arrived, so there was no need to control the area after all. I handed Yeoni and Myungjun a bonus and sent them off to treat the staff to beef, then began the work with the security team.