The Loser's Slip-Up
"Did you hear the rumor?"
"What rumor?"
"You know, Associate Kang Minhyuk — the one who just got divorced. Apparently he's got a new woman. A bombshell model this time, legs for days. Plus they say he's rich enough to be driving around in a sports car."
"Whoa, for real? The woman he just divorced was an actress, wasn't she?"
"That's insane. What's his secret? Is his family loaded?"
"Loaded? Please. I heard his ex-wife blew through every last won he'd ever earned. Oh — maybe he got some alimony in the divorce?"
"You just said she spent it all. What alimony?"
That didn't sit right with one of the employees who'd been sitting quietly, and he offered a different theory.
"Maybe he won the lottery? I heard he treated the whole team to a Hanwoo beef omakase during overtime the other day. Four hundred dollars a head."
"What? For real? Penny-pincher Kang treating people to omakase? Yeah, the lottery theory's starting to sound more plausible."
"Right? The clothes he's been wearing lately look completely different. Section Chief Seo on our team said if you added up what he's got on right now, it'd easily top ten thousand dollars."
The rumors flew back and forth, and the suspicions only grew thicker.
Then a slick-looking employee settled the whole thing with a single remark.
"God, you people are naive. It wasn't money — he pulled them with his looks. He's gotten a lot more handsome lately. A guy who made a stuck-up actress fall head over heels? His skills in bed have got to be on a whole different level. With looks like that plus those skills, making one model fall for him would be nothing."
"True. The women in the office have even started calling him the Hot Divorcé. Associate Kim on our team used to dump all her paperwork on me, but now she handles it herself just so she can go see Associate Kang. She's even started wearing skirts."
"Aigoo... so it all comes down to looks again?"
"Hah... life, man. Some of us can't even land one date, and he's got pretty women lining up behind him. I'm so jealous."
The male employees finished their gossip, left the break room looking thoroughly deflated — and from a corner seat, his back to the entrance, a man let out a hollow laugh.
"Ha! The Hot Divorcé? Did every good-looking man in Korea drop dead?"
Song Jiho had spent the past several days collecting intelligence on Kang Minhyuk's reputation, under special orders to find a way to bring him down. But everything he'd heard was nothing but baseless nonsense: that he'd lost weight and gotten handsome, that he might have won the lottery, that he'd started looking distinctly richer lately, that he'd landed himself a wealthy woman. All of it vapor. Not a scrap of anything he could use.
"This isn't working. I'll have to confirm it with my own eyes."
For years he had followed the every move of the person he loved. When it came to surveillance, he was confident even a ninja would have to yield a step to him. He resolved to stick to the bastard like glue after work today and tail him, and before six o'clock he hid himself near the entrance to the New Business Development Team, waiting for Kang Minhyuk to appear.
But for some reason, there was no sign of him even as eight o'clock approached.
What's going on? Is he working overtime?
The moment he lifted his foot, thinking he'd better go into the office and check — a jolt. His toes clenched as a vicious cramp tore through his foot. He'd been pressed motionless against the corridor corner for so long that his foot had seized up. He dabbed spit on his nose — an old folk remedy — and barely managed to ride it out, then hobbled down the hallway. The office entrance twenty meters away had never felt so distant.
When he finally made it, the interior was dim, lights switched off here and there. Something about it felt off. Unsettling. But Song Jiho wasn't the type to give up here. He crept through the darkened room, carefully searching for Kang Minhyuk's desk.
Fuck. What kind of office doesn't even have nameplates? How's anyone supposed to tell whose desk is whose?
Between the darkness and the identical furniture, finding Kang Minhyuk's desk was no easy task. He poked around from spot to spot, turned a corner — and collided with a man who looked like a zombie.
Splat. In that instant, a glob of white, sticky toothpaste foam flew into his face and smacked him square on the left cheek.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry."
The zombie-faced man hurriedly wiped at Song Jiho's face with his hands. But wiping with bare hands only smeared the foam around. In short, it felt even nastier.
"Ah, fuck! That's disgusting."
"Well, maybe don't walk around without looking where you're going."
"Excuse me?"
Song Jiho glared at the zombie-faced man with a look that could kill, and the other man hastily corrected himself.
"I meant I couldn't see properly because I was brushing my teeth. Here — wipe it with a tissue."
Song Jiho snatched the tissue and scrubbed at his face with a vengeance.
"Huh? You look familiar, though. Who are you again?"
Song Jiho squared his shoulders.
"I'm Song Jiho, Deputy General Manager of Director Han Se-ah's secretariat."
"Ah, right! What brings you here, though...?"
"Where's Associate Kang Minhyuk's desk?"
"Huh? Associate Kang Minhyuk? Over that way, but..."
Song Jiho turned to look where the zombie-faced man was pointing. The lights were off. The whole area sat in gloom.
"What? He already left?"
"I heard Associate Kang is on leave starting today."
"What?"
"If you have a message, I can pass it along. He'll get it."
"Ha! Leave? His brain's completely rotten. Can't even get a single project approved, and he's taking vacation? Isn't that just collecting a paycheck for nothing? Ah, goddamn it!"
Two hours of standing around in a hallway making a fool of himself had left Song Jiho so furious he couldn't contain it. The zombie-faced man who'd been watching him let out a long sigh.
"What did you just say?"
"Whatever I said! What's it to you?"
Song Jiho barked it loud enough to carry — and over the partitions, zombie faces with hair sticking up in every direction began to pop up one by one. One of them appeared to be recording a video on his phone.
"It is my business. Associate Kang is on the same New Business Development Team as the rest of us, and taking leave is a right the company recognizes. And collecting a paycheck for nothing? Do you have any idea how hard it is to develop new business?"
The enraged zombie leader's retort left Song Jiho briefly flustered — but then he remembered that his direct superior was a member of a chaebol family, and the righteousness came flooding back.
"Tch! Stay out of other people's business and worry about your own work."
Song Jiho stormed off with angry strides. Team Leader Park Unha clicked his tongue after him, then walked over to Woo Jeong-hwan.
"Did Associate Kang get on Director Han's bad side?"
"Beats me."
"If not, why would Director Han's secretary come looking for Kang Minhyuk?"
"I don't really..."
"You're his cohort and you don't even... sigh. Forget it. Just let Associate Kang know what happened. Team 1 already gets torn to shreds every time they present a project — it pains me just watching. If he gets on their bad side from being too cocky, Team 1 is really finished."
"Why would it be that bad?"
At Associate Woo's simple question, Team Leader Park opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
"There's a reason. If you go looking for answers, you'll get hurt too."
"Yes, sir."
Team Leader Park put the toothbrush back in his mouth and headed for the restroom. Associate Woo sent Kang Minhyuk a text, along with the video he'd recorded.
And with that last message, the conversation ended.
What's he really planning?
Watching Associate Kang lately had been nerve-wracking. The way he was going, Woo couldn't help wondering if the man was about to quit.
Then again, Associate Kang wasn't the only one walking a tightrope. If tomorrow's working-level negotiations for the heated skiwear project didn't go smoothly, the whole venture might get pushed to next year. The ones with their feet actually in the fire were Team 3.
I checked the text and set my phone down on the table. The person sitting across from me offered, in a generous voice:
"If it's urgent, feel free to take the call."
"No, it's nothing. Please continue."
She laughed softly. "Very well."
The person sitting across from me was Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye of the Iljin Foundation. We were in the Iljin Foundation Chairwoman's Office.
Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye was a far more perfect human being than anything I'd heard had led me to expect. If the word elegance could be applied to a person, it would be someone with exactly this temperament, this appearance — and an intellectual air on top of it. The very picture of a woman in her sixties who had aged beautifully. Whether she was as lovely on the inside was another matter entirely. Still, if I had to sum up the first impression: closer to a gentle chrysanthemum than a rose bristling with thorns.
Section Chief Oh Seung-won had suggested I meet with her, and she had reached out first in less than two days. I was scheduled to fly to the United States tonight, so I'd figured it was best to meet before leaving and had deliberately packed the schedule tight — yet she had accepted with surprising readiness. Which meant she was just as pressed for time as I was.
"I've never had a talent for talking in circles, so I'll be direct. I hear you were Yang Mi-jeong's ex-husband."
"That's correct."
A faint smile surfaced on Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye's face.
"So you already know, then? That Yang Mi-jeong is Director Han Se-ah."
"We shared a bed for years. How could I not know?"
She laughed, a refined little sound. "Then this conversation just got easier."
Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye explained why she had called me here. An unknown variable — one whose purpose she couldn't read. The very existence of such a thing made her uncomfortable.
"I looked into Yang Mi-jeong. Her reputation isn't particularly favorable. Does it make you uncomfortable, my speaking of your ex-wife this way?"
"It's fine."
"Good. Associate Kang, you're with Iljin Group's Future Strategy Office, so I imagine you understand perfectly. How much damage owner risk can inflict on a company's image."
"Of course I understand."
Chairwoman Heo smiled with satisfaction and crooked a finger at her secretary. I'd expected a thick white envelope or a painting to be produced. What was placed on the table was a credit card the size of a business card.
"I'm glad we're communicating so well. Three hundred thousand dollars. It's a modest sum, but use it as you please."
I had money enough to rot, but there was no reason to refuse. Accepting this credit card was, in itself, a declaration of intent to form an alliance. Still, I needed to know what Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye wanted from me before I took it.
I shifted my gaze from the credit card to Chairwoman Heo.
"I assume this isn't a gift. What is it you want from me...?"
She laughed again, her eyes curving into crescents, the expression laden with meaning.
A weakness...
My very existence was already a considerable weakness for Han Se-ah. Chairman Han Chung-won had likely ordered that Han Se-ah's identity as Yang Mi-jeong be thoroughly concealed, even from the family. And yet Heo Ji-hye — all but first in line for succession of management rights — had found out from the information I'd leaked.
Her instincts are sharp, I'll give her that. Sharp enough to contact me immediately.
Anyone else would have heard that Han Se-ah was Yang Mi-jeong and dismissed it out of hand. What could some two-bit entertainer possibly do? They'd have scoffed. The truly terrifying one wasn't Han Se-ah. It was the old Chairman who'd laid those pieces on the board.
Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye has figured that much out too, hasn't she?
Oh Seung-won's words about Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye came back to me. That she had been the hidden force enabling CEO Han Seung-woo to build a faction within Iljin Group on a scale comparable to Chairman Han Chung-won's. The energy she gave off was a different caliber entirely from Han Se-ah playing at being a chaebol. Her background probably had something to do with it. Unlike Han Se-ah, who had wedged herself into a chaebol family after the fact, Chairwoman Heo Ji-hye was the genuine article.
Eldest daughter of Sunjin Ilbo, a media conglomerate that had every last instance of corruption in politics and business mapped out — and wife of CEO Han Seung-woo, the leading candidate to become Iljin Group's next chairman. If I stood with her, I could prevent Han Se-ah's faction from growing.
But could I, really? Could I move a woman who was a strategist in all but name however I wished?
The task that mattered to me now wasn't a vertical relationship of taking orders from above. It was forming a horizontal one — an exchange in which each of us got what we wanted.
I need to be smart, but play as if I'm not. And I can't look like I'm greedy for money. Which means I have to time this carefully...
That was why I hadn't so much as glanced at the credit card, stalling for time under the pretense of deliberation.
As my silence stretched, Chairwoman Heo made a proposal as if she had read my thoughts.
"I hear Director Han Se-ah took charge of the New Business Development Team and Team 1's performance has dropped off sharply. I believe I may be able to help with that as well."
A proposal that pinpointed the other party's needs with precision, as expected of a tactician. With that, the final condition was met.
The deal started now.