Joining Forces (1)

The instant I received a copy of Sunnytronics' business registration from CEO Oh Seongjin, I was so floored that laughter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the only response I had left.

The name listed as Sunnytronics' chief executive: An Seon-young.

The same name as Kim Junseok's wife.

There was no version of this that didn't look suspicious.

"Just how far does this web even stretch?"

I started writing down everything I had confirmed so far in my notebook, in chronological order.

That was as far as I could confirm with certainty.

Filling in the gaps from what I already knew, the picture came together easily enough. Lee Jungwan and Sunnytronics had been tightly connected well before CEO Oh Seongjin ever placed a manufacturing order. For some reason, they had most likely swapped the chief executive to An Seon-young right before signing with PharmCare.

Why put An Seon-young in as CEO? So that Oh Seongjin and the company wouldn't find out Lee Jungwan was involved, of course.

And the reason he'd pushed An Seon-young to divorce Kim Junseok probably wasn't fear of their affair coming to light. It was far more likely he was afraid his own corruption might, by some accident, reach Kim Junseok's ears.

Once the production contract with Oh Seongjin was locked in, the actual manufacturing would have been outsourced to China, with only final assembly done in Korea. That was the only way to drive down unit cost and quietly dump the product on the Chinese market behind Oh Seongjin's back.

But sales of the pill dispenser would have been far worse than he'd expected. A product that never caught on in Korea was never likely to explode in China. To move numbers, he would have needed to raise the product's profile — so he decided to launch a device with the same concept under an Iljin Group brand.

He might even have planned to farm that work out to Sunnytronics as well. Small initial batches get contracted out all the time.

"And then Han Se-ah suddenly ordered a January 2025 launch. She wanted results, and she wanted them fast."

A convincing enough theory. Lee Jungwan must have been cheering himself hoarse on the inside. It was a golden chance to offload the inventory sitting in those Chinese factories.

"Wow. If CEO Oh Seongjin hadn't pulled out midway and it hadn't spilled into a patent dispute, Team Leader Lee Jungwan would have cleaned up completely."

By this point, I had a fairly clear idea why he'd installed his mistress as CEO, too.

"If CEO Oh Seongjin ever sued over the patent leak, he was going to cut the tail off and walk away."

Iljin Group executives, Oh Seongjin, even Kim Junseok's wife — his own mistress — all of them dancing inside the board Lee Jungwan had laid out.

The realization hit me hard enough that I smacked my fist into my palm.

"The man really is impressive, in every rotten direction there is. That brain of his spins like a top when it comes to being a bastard, Lee Jungwan."

At that moment, a whirlwind tore across the television screen, and a mission unfurled in its wake.

Apparently my theory had been exactly right.

"The mission is to acquire PharmCare?"

So if I wanted to see the results, acquiring PharmCare wasn't optional. I'd been turning that very decision over in my head — and just like that, one worry was off the table.

All that remained was to gather a few more pieces of evidence tied to Lee Jungwan's corruption. Once that came to light, Iljin Group would move on its own.

Not that I expected a blow of this size to knock Han Se-ah completely out of Chairman Han's favor. She was blood. She'd get chance after chance. But even a chicken-brained idiot would grasp this much: touch me, and you're finished.

Early dawn.

Mrs. Park Yoonhee woke earlier than usual, worry for her son sitting heavy on her chest. Hoping at least to look in on his sleeping face, she made her way to his room. Voices from inside snagged her curiosity; she couldn't help pressing her ear gently to the door — then the laugh that came through it, laced with something like a chill, sent her stepping back at once.

Aigoo. I knew it. So the rumors about her running around with that pretty-boy morning-drama actor were true. But my poor son — what am I supposed to do? Is it really all right to just leave him like this?

Her feet refused to move, aching with pity. She hovered on the edge of knocking more than once before she finally turned away.

Her husband was right. A wound needed time to close. A parent's place was to love him without holding back, and to hold him close so he didn't go off the rails.

At the very least, I should send him off well-fed. Today's breakfast is going to be a restorative feast!

From the small hours of the morning, Mrs. Park's hands grew busy over the stove.

Tuesday morning arrived with every preparation in place. I walked into the meeting in genuinely high spirits, curious what fresh and inventive method Han Se-ah would use to smash the project today — and walked straight into a very strange sight.

The person seated beside Han Se-ah was not a secretary. It was a manager.

A hulking six-foot-one frame pushing two hundred and twenty pounds. A forehead so thoroughly receded it was hard to believe the man was only in his mid-thirties. A thuggish face you could have mistaken for a gangster's at a glance.

Wasn't that Song Jiho — the manager she'd worked like a servant back when she was still Yang Mi-jeong?

Are you trying to hide your identity, or aren't you? What exactly is going through your head?

Had Oh Seung-won ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finally transferred out because he couldn't take Han Se-ah's viciousness anymore? If she'd brought Song Jiho in as a temporary fill-in, that I could understand. I had a fairly clear idea of why Oh Seung-won had been working as her secretary in the first place, so the thought wasn't far-fetched. If CEO Oh had told Oh Seung-won he intended to sell the company, then it was no longer any of Oh Seung-won's concern.

But if she'd parked Song Jiho in that chair regardless of whether Oh Seung-won was there or not?

That would mean she doesn't actually understand what a secretary's job is.

Schedule management, fielding calls, paperwork — a secretary's work looked similar to a manager's at a glance, but it was not something Song Jiho, a simple brain housed in a slab of fat and muscle, could handle with any ease.

Well. Not my business to meddle in.

All the same, Song Jiho's appearance was not a welcome one. The way he'd been smirking at me since the moment I sat down was getting on my nerves.

I ignored his gaze and kept my attention on the front of the room. Now that I'd split from Fire Fox, this man wasn't even worth engaging with.

The meeting ended as they always did. I was on my way out when Song Jiho, who had left the conference room ahead of me, stepped into my path.

"Could I have a word?"

"What is this about?"

"It's a bit awkward to discuss ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here, you see."

He smiled that oily smile on his fleshy face and winked. He'd clearly been waiting for me on Han Se-ah's orders.

Bloated leech of a bastard.

I would have loved to refuse him outright. But if I kept dodging, he'd invent every tedious excuse in the book to hunt me down. For all that bulk, the man had a persistent streak — like a sinister stalker, if I had to put a name to it.

He led me up to the rooftop garden and found a spot a little apart from the other people there. So no one else would overhear us, no doubt.

"Kang Minhyuk. You've changed a lot. Almost didn't recognize you."

Hah. Look who's talking.

Manager Song Jiho. His face had changed so much that I wondered how many people would still know him — but there had been a time when the title of Yang Mi-jeong's manager had made him something of a public figure.

Not long after Yang Mi-jeong's debut, the two of them had appeared on television together. It was one of those variety shows that trailed a celebrity's manager through an ordinary workday, poking at the hardships of the job. Once it came out that Yang Mi-jeong's mother was Yang Seo-hee, both their stars shot straight up. "Came out" was generous. They'd let it out on purpose.

Song Jiho had been in his mid-twenties then, with a far slimmer build and a full head of hair. Handsome, as managers went — popular enough in his own right to rival Yang Mi-jeong. And he carried himself like it, shoulders thrown back as if he were the celebrity. In front of the cameras he played the devoted manager, all fake sincerity. Anywhere the cameras weren't, he swaggered around like he'd been crowned king. It had been nauseating to watch.

"You have no idea how worried I was when I heard you'd gotten divorced. I was afraid our Minhyuk was going through hell."

"…"

"I'm serious~. Every time the news reported someone jumping off Mapo Bridge, my heart just about stopped."

Song Jiho wrung his hands with a face full of counterfeit concern. If anyone in this story should have been the actor, it was this man, not Yang Mi-jeong.

"But wow~ you've changed so much I barely recognized you. You've turned into a real looker. Nobody slipped you a business card telling you to become an actor? Bwahaha."

"I have no interest in the entertainment industry."

"Hm? That so? Strange. I could've sworn you were pretty interested. You had a hell of a knack for picking good scripts, too."

Scripts. So he was still carrying that around.

Petty, for a man his size.

Back when Yang Mi-jeong had first set foot in the industry, she hadn't been satisfied with the roles the company brought her. She'd taken scripts from projects her mother was appearing in and asked me to look them over. I had a decent instinct for that sort of thing, and I'd picked the hits and the coveted parts in a single pass. Of course, Fire Fox's acting hadn't been anywhere near good enough to land those roles — she hadn't even gotten a foot in the door. But after that, she seemed to trust my eye. She kept bringing me scripts.

And every time, that leech had tagged along like a watchdog. A dark-faced man staring me down with glittering eyes — it had taken some getting used to, at the start. And the way he picked apart every word I said.

The funny part? The films and roles I chose always outperformed the ones he picked. If Fire Fox had actually taken a part in every movie I'd selected, she'd be a supporting actress with three ten-million-ticket hits to her name by now.

"I do have a pretty good eye for scripts, I'll give you that. Even Yang Mi-jeong trusted me more than her own manager when it came to choosing projects."

Song Jiho's brow twitched. Inferiority. I'd found the nerve, apparently. He didn't want that showing, though. A hearty laugh rolled out of him a beat later.

"Well, I'll give you that! Anyway — where did all that fat go? Find yourself a nice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hospital or something?"

The probing was over. He dropped the act and showed his real face, a look of quiet arrogance sliding into place as he started needling me in earnest.

"Ah, look at me. They've developed a new weight-loss drug recently, haven't they? That's what you took. I heard it's pretty expensive — how much did it run you? I've been putting on a gut myself; I was thinking of giving it a shot. They say you can't get it unless you're obese, so I've been wondering if I need to pack on a little more first. Share the hospital you went to, Deputy Kang."

You already look more than qualified for the obesity requirement.

Spend enough time together and even a brain that stupid starts to rub off, apparently. Did he not realize that dredging up the past to get under my skin only made him look more pathetic?

"Heh. Why not just go to the hospital Actress Yang uses? They swapped out her entire face. I almost didn't recognize her myself."

I shrugged and shook my head as if I couldn't possibly compete, and Song Jiho's expression crumpled. Of course it did. He never would have expected me to openly take a knife to Yang Mi-jeong.

"It's surprising, though. I never expected Manager Song to show up as Department Head Han Se-ah's secretary. Wasn't ripping the whole face apart supposed to be for identity laundering? Or is it just a fashion statement? Women's pain tolerance never ceases to amaze me, I'll say that. I hear the pain after they shave down your jawbone is as bad as childbirth — and she went through that twice. I don't know how anyone endures it."

Song Jiho's face flushed red, then blotched pale. I didn't give him a chance to answer.

"So. Why did you call me? I don't believe we're on 'hello in passing' terms."

He finally got ahold of himself, squared his shoulders, folded his hands behind his back, and puffed himself up.

"Ahem. Nothing much. Now that we're colleagues, I figured people who already know each other ought to say hello. I joined here as a Deputy General Manager, you see."

Heh. Trying to put me in my place with his rank, is he?

"Now that we're eating from the same pot, let's get along. Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

He extended a thick hand toward me. I looked down at it.

"I'm rather particular about the company I keep. Degenerate thieves, in particular, I find utterly repulsive."

Song Jiho's face turned scarlet.