Good News Is Big Trouble
Monday arrived.
After a whirlwind weekend, I headed into work with a clear head and a light step. The moment I stepped into the office, though, an inexplicable tension settled over everything.
I was still wondering what was going on when Junior Associate Kim Seungho approached, greeting me with the careful stealth of a stray cat.
“You’re here, Assistant Manager Noh.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Why’s he acting like that?
“Yeah. Something happen while I was out?”
“Don’t even get me started. Right now the marketing teams are in a full-on cold war… Let’s step out to the rooftop for a second.”
Kim Seungho glanced around, reading the room, then pointed a finger upward. I gave him a small nod, telling him to lead the way.
Once we reached the rooftop, he asked for a moment, lit a cigarette, and spoke.
“It’s good news, but it’s big trouble.”
That made no sense.
He started explaining everything that had happened the previous Friday.
“While you were out on leave for the move, upper management dropped next quarter’s project assignment on us. On Marketing Team 3.”
“What kind of assignment?”
“The Home AI Project. You’ve heard of it, right?”
I knew it. The Home AI Project.
It was the flagship initiative for the first half of next year—essentially rolling out an internet-based care system into every corner of people’s daily lives. A harmony of everyday living and AI.
That kind of thing was the trend these days.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Marketing Teams 1 and 2 were supposed to take it…”
“Nope. It got switched to us—Team 3.”
“What? Why?”
I frowned as I asked.
“Hell if we know either.”
Kim Seungho shrugged, then leaned in with a mischievous grin.
“But the rumor is it’s because of the Han Yojung commercial shoot you led. You did the job so well they just dropped a massive project right in our laps!”
He threw in every exaggerated reaction he could muster, clearly thrilled.
“Hmm…”
“Anyway, the atmosphere between the teams is brutal right now. Feels like walking on thin ice. Sure, it’s a great chance for us to pad our numbers, but Teams 1 and 2 poured everything into landing this project…”
He was right. If Team 3 ended up on this project, friction with the other two teams was inevitable.
If Kim Seungho’s story was true, I was going to have to keep my head down for a while.
Wait a second…
Why me?
Is doing good work a crime now?
Meanwhile, Manager Park Heegon’s head was a tangled mess.
His peers and fellow managers at the same rank were leaning hard on him.
Those were the kinds of things he kept hearing lately.
He understood exactly what they meant.
In truth, Park Heegon harbored more ill will toward Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin than anyone else.
He couldn’t quite put a finger on why the resentment had piled up.
Yes, he had been close with Heo Seongtae, but that wasn’t the reason he disliked Noh Hoojin.
He had already disliked the man long before Heo Seongtae got arrested.
How to put it… he just hated the person himself.
He hated the timid way Noh always watched everyone else’s faces.
He hated how the guy never refused work others dumped on him and just took it like a sucker.
But lately, something had changed.
The same guy who used to act like a total loser had suddenly grown bold.
Even when their eyes met, he never looked away. In the old days he would have dropped his gaze instantly.
On top of that, he was good at his job.
Park would deliberately assign him the toughest tasks, only to find them finished and the man lounging around free.
When he checked the quality of the work, it was even more galling.
Not only did Noh complete what was asked—he went further, spotting improvements and refining everything. As a result, the whole team’s workload got easier.
He was stacking good deeds and team performance on his own initiative.
These days it almost felt like a halo was shining around him.
This is awkward…
And so the dislike and the need for Noh Hoojin coexisted, leaving Park’s mind in chaos.
“Hoo…”
He exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke on the rooftop and stared up at the sky.
The sky, of course, offered no answers, so he pulled his coat tighter and turned to head back inside.
That was when voices drifted over from the smoking booth on the opposite side.
“Isn’t that guy seriously annoying? Some no-name university punk.”
“What’d he even do that was so great? Walking around with his shoulders all puffed up.”
“Right? Lucked into the CEO’s good graces and now he’s strutting around—makes me want to shove a spear through him.”
Park Heegon stopped. He tried to pretend he hadn’t heard, but the words had already driven deep into his skull.
After a brief hesitation, he slowly turned around.
In the opposite booth, two assistant managers he knew well were snickering, still unaware of his presence.
“Hey. You two.”
Park Heegon’s voice was calm and heavy.
Both men flinched and spun around.
“M-Manager Park?”
“Ah, you startled us. Want a cigarette…?”
Park cut them off cold.
“Watch your mouths. Both of you. That ‘no-name university punk’ is outperforming you and doing better work.”
The two men looked slightly flustered. They knew perfectly well how Park Heegon usually felt about Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin.
“Ah, that’s not what we meant… We were just joking around. You know how it is with Noh Hoojin, Manager…”
“Anyone who bad-mouths people behind their backs for fun should be ready to take the same heat. Be careful from now on. Keep it up and you’ll get the same treatment.”
Park started to leave, then stopped and pointed a finger at both of them.
“Don’t ever say that kind of crap in front of me again. I’m not taking sides for the hell of it. Watch and learn what it actually looks like to survive on real ability.”
Their faces filled with pure disbelief.
Park glared at them, irritation thick in his eyes, then turned and walked back into the building.
The second he was inside he clamped a hand over his own mouth.
What the hell did I just say?!
He shook his head hard, as if surrendering to whatever this was, and headed down the stairs.
I don’t even know why I’m acting like this.
A few days later.
The first day Han Yojung’s LK Telecom commercial went live.
At exactly six in the morning, the moment the ad began airing, the entire country was blanketed in Han Yojung—bus stops, subway screen doors, main banners on internet portals, YouTube pre-rolls, SNS short-form videos. Everywhere.
It was a simple commercial: Han Yojung unfurling wings of light, the whole city linking into a single panoramic stream of radiance.
The first of five concepts.
Only fifteen seconds long, yet the impact was beyond imagination.
Before a full day had even passed, the ad video blasted past three million views on YouTube.
The commercial was an absolute triumph.
Within less than a day of release, “Han Yojung” sat at number one on real-time search rankings across online communities and SNS, day after day.
Comments flooded in, online memes exploded overnight, and fan art and parody videos started popping up.
“The Fairy Connects You” instantly became a popular catchphrase.
And at the center of every current stood a single person.
Noh Hoojin.
He knew the company was watching him because of Han Yojung’s commercial, yet he showed no particular reaction.
He still handled his work with the same calm face, and even his own teammates treated it like business as usual.
Of course, people from other teams were different.
Even those who had once looked down on him now carefully struck up conversations and greeted him with smiles.
The PR team even started quietly trying to pull him into meetings, saying they wanted to share feedback on the ad together.
Every time, Deputy General Manager Jeon Yonggi and Manager Park Heegon shut it down, insisting Marketing Team 3 already had more than enough on its plate.
Today I finished every task I’d been given again.
My work speed kept climbing, so by afternoon I was basically free to spend the time however I liked.
No need to push myself harder than this, right?
This is what being a salary thief is all about.
Without hesitation I opened the stock app.
A-Tech Solution, the stock I’d been watching closely, was still sideways around the 125,000-won level.
It had peaked at 209,000, so it had fallen quite a bit. But the atmosphere was slowly shifting.
I studied the candlestick chart with calm eyes. It had risen as fast as it had crashed, and now it was quietly looking for a rebound.
Fear still dominated the market, but to me it looked like opportunity.
Institutional volume seemed mostly flushed out, and lately traces of foreign accumulation had started to appear.
“Looks like the bottom’s been fully built. Time for it to lift its head.”
A-Tech Solution wasn’t some simple theme stock.
Not long ago I had thoroughly investigated the company’s core technology, patent structure, and potential export contracts.
Its PER was high compared to competitors, but the moment was approaching when ROE and earnings growth would explode so hard that PER would stop mattering.
I cross-checked the price action against the corporate analysis reports and sank into thought.
Then I turned thought into action.
My available cash sat at 130 million won.
I entered the full amount into the buy window.
Not at market price—I set staggered limit orders near the lower support line so the shares would fill gradually.
The old me would have rushed in impatiently. Not anymore.
The fills came through over time, as expected. The downtrend was still clear, after all. But fear wasn’t allowed to stop me.
Stocks had a habit of suddenly rocketing just when retail investors couldn’t climb aboard.
In a few days everything would become clear.
Average buy price: 122,000 won. With 130 million invested, I picked up a total of one thousand shares.
Six in the evening.
I clocked out on the dot again and headed straight for the subway, riding toward the neighborhood where I used to live.
I planned to grab dinner at the gukbap place, stop by a bookstore, then head home.
I was also curious whether the neighborhood had changed at all.
According to the rumors, Jo Hyeontae—the owner of the predatory Altteul Credit Loan outfit—had tried to flee overseas and gotten caught by the police.
With the key evidence seized, he must have panicked.
A guilty conscience made the whole thing wrap up cleanly.
There wasn’t a single local business owner who didn’t know about it.
Just how many small-business owners had he tormented all this time?
The charges were extensive: fraud, forgery of official documents, coercion, intimidation, illegal lending operations, and more.
Fortunately, a substantial amount of cash and gold bars had been found on the boat he tried to escape on, offering at least some comfort to the people he had victimized.
Proper compensation would probably follow.
As for District Councilman Heo Gap-gyeong, the silence suggested he had slipped free.
No need to dig any deeper. A long tail always gets stepped on.
After walking about twenty minutes from the station, I found myself standing in front of the gukbap restaurant.
“Hmm…”
I watched it from across the street.
It was definitely different from before.
The once-empty atmosphere had regained its vitality.
Inside, customers packed the place, and every time the door opened, the rich, savory smell unique to a gukbap house drifted out.