The Ripple Effect

Hey, young man~ Grab one of these before you head out.

Girlfriend? She's pretty~ Why don't you two sit down and eat?

Where? Gwangjang Market. We came for a class assignment. And tagging along beside me was our law school junior. They say the "drug kimbap" is the local specialty, but I wondered if it had any real market value. Still, since it was supposedly famous, I gave it a try—took one bite and set it down. It tasted oddly bland to me.

When I snapped a photo of it, the vendors nearby watched with satisfied smiles. Following the professor's instructions to document everything with photos for the assignment, we dutifully complied. We'd only snacked on a few things, yet my stomach was already full. Between the drug kimbap, assorted pancakes, fried foods, and a glass of makgeolli, I felt ready to burst.

Leaving Gwangjang Market, we strolled along Cheonggyecheon Stream, and my food began to settle. We walked all the way to Myeongdong intending to catch a bus back to campus when a news broadcast flickered across a street-side digital screen. It was about us.

I stopped walking and stared at the screen. Ji-eun glanced at me oddly.

"Just a moment. There's a public restroom in that building over there. I'll pop in and be right back."

"Sure, go ahead."

Using the restroom as an excuse, I headed toward the building while pulling out my phone and switching on the TV app.

Director Ha really moves fast. I typed out a quick message on Skylight.

For some reason, Director Ha's temperature had risen. I returned to my seat and wrapped up the meeting. Spending the day together chatting, I realized my junior was quite impressive—sharp and diligent. The type who tries to do everything perfectly, researches thoroughly, and works hard. I thought we'd just swing by Gwangjang Market for a quick look, but she'd mapped out the route, checked store reviews, and planned everything. It wasn't boring at all. In return, I covered the bill. That much I could manage.

That evening, I received an unusually large ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠number of Skylight messages. Why? I hadn't expected that taking down Chief Seon would cause such massive ripples. Messages poured in from the US Army contact, Cider, and various regional leaders I'd come to know over time, all asking why I hadn't given them a heads-up about the operation. Even Chungmugong, Director Ha's former superior, reached out after a long silence. He apologized. Though after thinking about it, I wasn't sure an apology was necessary—I'd cleaned house for the sake of internal unity.

Meanwhile, prices on the Skylight board seemed to have jumped about 20%. Of course, that was reflected in the 36.5 and 36.6 temperature readings. It was fascinating to see people still seeking out our products even after everything. How did they always manage to find them?

The next day, I disseminated the organization's official notice through the executives. With two layers of separation, I didn't even know most of the rank-and-file members anymore. For the first time in a while, I felt the pain of creation. Who knew writing a few lines could be so difficult?

After I sent the draft, Director Ha asked if I was announcing a political platform. Hey, you told me to write it. Grumbling, she asked about the follow-up measures.

What? The police report said around 40 people were taken in.

So complaints were coming my way.

I changed the subject, embarrassed.

Looking at the reorganized chart, the deputy director line had survived intact.

Further explanation revealed that Chief Seon hadn't used the deputies for sales; he'd managed everything directly, and only with his own people. He kept close only those who entered his territory, distancing himself from anyone who underperformed. Three deputies had grown distant as a result. The deputy-level damage was significant on the org chart.

"Then let's assign Chief Seon the prison expansion project from last time."

"What issues?" I asked, sensing there was something I didn't know.

Hadn't we been turning a blind eye to a certain extent?

Well, well. A thief in our midst.

The more I heard, the more absurd it became. He'd leveraged his Seoul National University alumni network and profits from product sales to build influence—making donations, attending events, even meddling in institutional promotions. At some point, he'd gained a reputation in the industry as a lobbyist. His management list reportedly included current and former National Assembly members. Listening to all this, I kept thinking what a waste it would be to discard such talent. But after Director Ha's next words, I abandoned the thought.