A Space of My Own
The more I followed Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin’s instructions, the more I couldn’t help but marvel at why he had given them.
Knowing the technical side is one thing, but moving people this effectively in such a short time is no easy feat.
It wasn’t just his practical skills—his on-site leadership hit hard.
This was territory no manager could simply learn by studying.
How could someone who, only a few months ago, had been a presence-less drone just processing whatever work was handed to him transform like this?
“Cut! Okay!”
The backup director’s shout sent the staff exhaling in unison, offering scattered little rounds of applause.
Every gaze locked solely on Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin.
“That Noh Hoojin guy—he’s really marketing?”
“Must’ve been on a shoot team before, right?”
A lighting assistant said it like it was obvious.
“Yeah? Otherwise it doesn’t make sense.”
“But it’s weird.”
“What is?”
“With senses that sharp, why’d he leave the shoot team?”
“True enough.”
The staff whispered among themselves, curious about Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin’s true identity.
Every one of those questions was something I had wanted to ask myself.
And then there was Han Yojung.
In front of the camera she was acting with natural ease, as if the previous day’s exhaustion had never existed.
Every time she received Noh Hoojin’s direction, her eyes shifted.
From behind the camera he coordinated her movements with short, precise explanations, even pointing out the angle of her expression—his manner firm yet never rude.
“Yojung-ssi, for this cut, please turn half a beat later. Right after the wind touches your face.”
“……Yes.”
She hesitated for a beat, then nodded and quietly smiled.
Han Yojung was following Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin’s words without a hint of resistance.
She even smiled.
A world-famous pop star notorious for being picky, obediently taking direction from a mere marketing-team assistant manager.
Was this even possible?
Jo Cheoljeong’s mind was a whirl of confusion. Every line of common sense he had built up over a lifetime was being trampled without mercy.
The more it happened, the tighter he clung to focus and work.
I’m a professional! he shouted inwardly.
The shoot continued.
Noh Hoojin wasn’t simply following a fixed direction; he was reading her movements like a piece of music and arranging them to match the flow.
“Cut! Excellent! Moving to the next cut!”
At the director’s words the staff bustled again, and in the middle of it all Kang Bitna stood still, watching Hoojin’s profile.
Lips pressed tight, eyes lost in thought.
She looked determined not to miss a single detail of Noh Hoojin’s gaze, tone, or movement.
And threaded through it all was a tiny spark of jealousy.
Then, as if to herself, she murmured,
“Really… he’s an incredible person. Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin.”
Pretending to work, I heard her and had no choice but to agree.
Even from Jo Cheoljeong’s own eyes, Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin was shining.
By the time every shot was finished, the sun had already set.
The set was filled with applause, admiration, and the sheer relief of having survived a crisis.
“It really ended like a miracle…….”
Junior Associate Kim Seungho shook his head and collapsed into a folding chair.
Kang Bitna sat beside him and quickly topped up her caffeine.
Assistant Manager Jo Cheoljeong and Manager Park Heegon returned after giving final instructions.
“Everyone worked hard. Especially Assistant Manager Noh.”
Once the whole team had gathered, Deputy General Manager Jeon Yonggi finally relaxed his face and spoke.
He had fretted the entire time that the commercial might go wrong, and his face looked thoroughly haggard.
“Not at all. I just did what needed doing.”
I waved a hand lightly, keeping it modest.
“Everyone head straight home from here today. I’d love to grab a round of soju, but none of us have slept properly and we’re all wiped. Drinks tomorrow.”
“Yes…….”
“Understood…….”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Everyone answered in a state of total exhaustion.
That was when it happened.
Han Yojung finished the shoot and walked over to us.
“Thank you all for your hard work today!”
She stood in front of us and spoke with real energy.
She must have been worn out from her packed schedule too, yet she still radiated vitality.
World-class stars really were different.
We took turns shaking her hand. She was scheduled to leave for overseas for more than two months, so we were saying our goodbyes.
Finally she held out her hand to me and spoke quietly.
“Um, when I get back from America…… would it be all right if I bought you a meal? I’d like to thank you properly.”
At those words, Kang Bitna, watching from behind, narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.
Then she stepped right between us and beamed brightly.
“Me too. If the chance comes later, I’d love to treat you to a cup of coffee as well, Han Yojung-ssi.”
Han Yojung’s brow furrowed a fraction as she offered an awkward smile.
As bold as ever, Employee Kang Bitna.
The shoot wrapped at five in the afternoon. After finishing the cleanup I got home around seven.
I roughly filled my empty stomach and flopped straight onto the bed.
“Ah! The stocks!”
Suddenly the market flashed into my mind.
I had been so focused on the commercial shoot all day that I hadn’t even thought about it.
“Let’s see…… how much did it climb today.”
I opened the securities app and checked the ticker.
A-Tech Solution closed at 209,000 won—up 36,000 from the previous day.
Roughly a 21 percent rise.
Looking at the chart, it had surged hard from the open, hit the daily limit around lunch, then slipped back in the final hour to settle at 21 percent.
Not a three-day limit-up streak, but a solid performance nonetheless.
With that, my assets increased by 46.8 million won, bringing the total—including the money I had pulled from savings—to 532 million won.
Even after buying a house, 132 million would remain.
Taxes would shave a little off, of course, but that wasn’t worth fretting over.
I sank into thought for a moment.
The short-term climb had been too steep.
On top of that, the upward momentum had broken, it had dropped 10 percent from the high, and the market had closed.
Judging purely by A-Tech Solution’s intrinsic value, there was still room to rise.
But I felt a correction period was coming soon.
There were other signals as well.
Increased sell volume after the limit-up, a 10 percent pullback from the high into the close, fading upward elasticity, technical overheating indicators, and the approaching exhaustion of the positive catalysts.
Taken together, the probability of smart-money exit or position dumping was high.
That made right now the perfect moment to pull the stock and buy the house.
If the ticker entered a correction and fell, I could re-enter with the remaining cash and ride the next bull wave.
As planned, the moment the market opened the next morning I sold every share.
Fortunately the open matched the previous close, so I cleared everything at 209,000 won.
After taxes my total assets stood at 530 million won.
And as if on cue, the stock price began to plummet.
In the end, I had been right.
LK Telecom Headquarters.
That morning the first cut of the finished commercial was delivered to the headquarters executives and the client.
And during the morning executive meeting, talk of the ad came up.
“This is far more intuitive than the original storyboard.”
“The emotional line feels more alive.”
“It draws the eye much more than what we saw before.”
“I heard the shoot team had an accident the day before—how was something like this even possible?”
Admiring remarks and questions poured from the executives.
Deputy General Manager Jeon Yonggi, who had been the responsible officer on site, spoke into the microphone without hesitation.
“Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin led the entire process on location.”
The unexpected answer silenced the conference room for a moment.
Inside the company, Noh Hoojin had never been a particularly noticeable figure.
But only for a moment—then the executives’ murmuring grew louder.
“Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin…… isn’t that the fellow who did the recent broadcast interview?”
“That’s right. I heard he was also the one who saved the president from that accident…….”
“I understand he played a major role in the Han Yojung contract as well.”
“Oh…… and his rank is still assistant manager?”
“Well…… yes, it is.”
The room buzzed.
“All right, all right.”
As the executives’ voices rose, the vice president—who also served as brand division head of LK Telecom—nodded and took the microphone.
The conference room fell quiet as if nothing had happened.
“If the commercial’s quality is this high, changing the storyboard was actually a stroke of genius.”
“Yes. The director was out with an injury and equipment was short, but the team pulled together and finished it.”
Deputy General Manager Jeon Yonggi kept his words measured, yet the implication was clear: without Noh Hoojin it would have been impossible.
The vice president replayed the commercial several times, focusing on the scenes.
The sensitivity of the camera angles, the placement of lighting and emotional beats, even the shifts in Han Yojung’s expression……
Everything felt natural and magnetic.
“Marketing Team 3…… they’ve been sharp lately. We might not even need a separate shoot team.”
The executives and team leaders chuckled. It sounded like a joke, yet it didn’t land entirely as one.
Among them, more than a few glared at the footage with envy in their eyes.
Then the vice president looked up from the screen.
“That employee, Noh Hoojin. And Marketing Team 3—have them assigned to the Home AI Project next quarter.”
“Pardon?”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s…….”
Surprised voices rose from every side at the vice president’s words.
Home AI was one of the next-generation flagship items LK Telecom was currently pushing hardest.
“Why? Is there a problem? With this level of ability, they’re more than ready for a major AI project.”
“…….”
A peculiar silence settled over the conference room.
At the sudden directive, the planning division head shot a puzzled look, while the heads of Marketing Teams 1 and 2 frowned with clear displeasure.
That project was the one they had been eyeing for themselves.
Yet no one could object.
They had failed to land Han Yojung, while Marketing Team 3 had delivered results of this caliber.
They felt, deep in their bones, that their own positions were beginning to shake.
I took a personal day and signed the house contract that morning.
To be precise, I executed a formal contract through a third-party real-estate agent rather than a direct deal.
I had originally planned to deal with the seller myself, but proceeding more carefully and accurately seemed the wiser course.
The commission was negotiated to a reasonable level, so the extra outlay wasn’t large.
Pinching pennies only to create headaches later was a real risk.
The seller agreed with my view as well.
Before drafting the contract I checked the full registry abstract, building ledger, and every utility settlement statement.
Using the standard form as a base, I added special clauses covering post-sale remedies for leaks or discovered defects.
Then we formally wrote the contract.
The terms were mutually acceptable, and the 40-million-won deposit had already been transferred earlier.
After stamping the final seal, I settled the remaining balance cleanly on the spot.
There had been a few days of leeway, but there was no reason to delay.
“I’ve never seen anyone prepare this thoroughly.”
The agent said as he handed me the contract.
“These things need to be covered in advance. Miss something and it all costs money.”
At my words the seller smiled and nodded.
“Looks like this house has found a good owner. I’m really glad.”
In that moment, something inside me settled into place.
Beyond simple investment, a space now existed under my own name.
And in Seoul, where land prices were enough to make your knees buckle, no less.