The Press Conference
“My, I had no idea you were already here.”
Park Namil arrived at the hotel smiling, and shook hands with the man who had been waiting for him.
Black-rimmed glasses, salt-and-pepper hair — Attorney Jo Yuwon, the lead counsel among the many lawyers of High Group.
“Thank you for making the trip. If we skipped any rest and went straight into the briefing, would that be all right?”
“Ha ha ha! The sooner you catch a thief, the better — isn’t that how it goes?”
Talking as they went, the two of them reached the suite on the hotel’s top floor, set the documents down on the table, and began.
“So what you’re saying is, there’s no chance the will that was made public is a fake.”
“Yes, that’s correct. We found no trace of tampering, and no evidence whatsoever that the Chairman’s usual manner of speaking could have been fabricated.”
“Tsk. What was Grandfather thinking?”
Park Namil clicked his tongue as if the whole thing displeased him, then opened his smartphone and began sending someone a message.
“Are you sending that to the director?”
“Well, yes. We haven’t got the evidence to claim the will was forged, so we’ll have to catch him some other way.”
At the sight, Jo Yuwon breathed an inward sigh of relief. He knew Park Namil’s ordinary self far too well — bring the man a result he didn’t like, and he was more than capable of turning violent — and so all Yuwon felt was relief that they had gotten past this moment cleanly.
“Ah, and Counselor. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be coming over to our side, won’t you?”
“Pardon? What do you—”
“Grandfather is gone. Wouldn’t it be better for you to come to me?”
“…I’ll consider it.”
Bring the lawyer who had served the Chairman into his own company. Even without a justification anyone could name, it was a strategy meant to plant the image that the people around them recognized him — and Jo Yuwon was not ignorant of that.
“He’s the sort who’ll be finished the moment you press money into his hand, so I’ll give you three days. I’ll have the matter of him wrapped up before the funeral.”
The face that said it was full of leisure, and of the certainty that things would turn out exactly as he declared.
The next morning, Makina’s alarm opened his eyes. The unfamiliar furniture of the chairman’s office was there to greet him.
> Good morning, Chairman. Three hours remain until the scheduled press conference.
“Haah…”
There had been a sliver of hope. It was not a dream. Reality drew the sigh out of him first.
“The speech?”
> Secretary Choi has finished drafting it and is waiting only on your confirmation.
“Damn. And here I went and got all the rest to myself.”
> No. She finished writing it, and she is asleep.
“…That’s a relief, at least.”
Knock, knock.
He had been deep in conversation with Makina when the door of the chairman’s office opened on the knock.
“Representative, I believe it’s about time you started getting ready.”
Chief Im came in with yet another suit.
“There’s truly not a moment to rest.”
“This is an emergency. I hope you’ll understand.”
To the complaint in his voice, Chief Im answered with an expression that did not shift by so much as a line.
“First, you ought to wash up properly. You’ve been on the move since dawn yesterday, and standing in front of the press like that would be a little…”
At those words he checked his clothes. He had thrown them on carelessly after washing, so the buttons hung open, and between the sweat of a day spent rushing about and whatever had happened while he slept, they had gotten dirty in more ways than one.
“…You’re right.”
He nodded at Chief Im’s perfectly reasonable advice and went into the bathroom.
> Setting temperature to optimal.
He undid the buttons of his shirt and looked in the mirror. Small scars scattered across his body, a great scar splitting his back, a muscular frame — a tired company man stood there.
“…I’d better wash.”
Useless thoughts felt ready to rise again, so he shook his head and put it under the shower, where warm water was already running. The water struck his scalp and seemed to rinse away every idle notion that had been trying to surface. Only after he had shaved and washed his face did a finally tidy version of himself look back from the glass.
“Secretary Choi said she sent the speech over.”
“Yes. I’ve looked it over.”
The plaza in front of High Group Headquarters, designated as the press conference site, was already growing loud with reporters’ chatter and a baptism of flashes, and he watched it through the window of the room prepared for him to wait in.
“Doesn’t it seem like there are more people than when we launch a new product?”
“I’m sure there are.”
High Group had always been an object of attention, but the center of that attention had been the Chairman, and he had only ever watched it from beside him. Now he was the one who would stand at the center.
“Then I’ll go run a final check.”
“All right. Thank you for the hard work.”
Since the Chairman’s death, Chief Im had grown even more sensitive about security. It was only natural, and yet the way he kept scanning their surroundings, as if he had come down with paranoia, was painful to see.
“I’ll need to talk with him at some point.”
Yes. He is in a state of extreme anxiety, so comfort from you, Chairman, will surely be a great source of strength.
“Thanks, Makina. How’s the coverage?”
Not bad. The articles are only about who will appear, and what the fallout might be. Not a single person has ventured a guess about you, Chairman.
“And the Chairman’s family?”
They are not currently anywhere near the company. Nothing is on their schedules either, so it appears each of them intends to watch the broadcast from home.
“That’s a relief, at least.”
If the owner family had been standing in front of him as well, he might truly have had to empty his stomach before the press conference ever began.
> Shall I execute Care?
“…No. I’m all right. I want to try this on my own. I’m somewhat used to this sort of thing in front of other people, anyway. If it looks like I’m going to collapse during the press conference, then go ahead.”
> Understood.
“Representative, it’s time to go out.”
“Yes. Let’s do that.”
He opened the door and walked toward the press conference, guards falling in on either side of him. By the time he reached the main entrance, flashes were bursting without end, enough to hurt his eyes.
“To your positions.”
At a single word from Chief Im, the moment the doors opened, the guards moved at once, sprinting to the places assigned to them.
“Representative, please step up.”
“Thank you.”
Chief Im stepped aside and indicated the dais where he was to stand.
“Hoo.”
The moment he stood before the great platform, the flashes burst all over again, and he was almost grateful that he could no longer see what was in front of him.
“First, I would like to thank the members of the press, and the distinguished guests, who have come here today.”
Calmly, one phrase at a time, he began to read what was written in the speech. Where to break, where to breathe — all of it was marked on the manuscript — and he made himself remember to look at the reporters as well.
“We have come upon a difficult time….”
His resolve, and the direction they would go: a gentle tone, meant as far as possible to quiet people’s unease.
And he set out, calmly ordered, the thoughts in which his longing for the Chairman was held.
“This concludes the press conference. As we are in mourning, questions will be taken afterward.”
He finished the greeting and turned to go. Reporters poured questions after him, and, ringed by the guards, he was trying to leave the hall without properly hearing them when a voice cut through.
“Who are you, to speak on behalf of High Group?”
A fair question, and a reasonable one. If it had been him, and some stranger he didn’t know had suddenly stepped out and given a speech, he would have wondered who that man was, too.
“I…”
He turned his steps back and stood once more before the dais.
And, with the resolve that he would run no further, he spoke before the press.
“You’re young. Do you actually have a proper vision for running the company?”
“I don’t believe it matters whether one is old or young. By the Chairman’s last will, I currently hold the chairman’s seat. I served at his side, and I expect I will have many shortcomings.”
He drew a breath. Makina still had not spoken, so for now, it seemed, he was all right.
“But I am also the one who learned the most beside the Chairman. I watched the unpretentious man he showed himself to be, and I watched him agonize, and choose — not only for the profit of the company, but for a great many people.”
The baptism of flashes stopped. In the quiet, the reporters waited only for his mouth to move.
“I may not know how to run a company as well as all of you imagine. But the path the Chairman worried over, and chose — I will walk that same path.”
The only way he knew was the Chairman’s way. The way he was best at was the way the Chairman had done things.
Once the flashes were gone, what began to show in the reporters’ eyes — only just becoming visible — was not suspicion, but awe. He did not mean to let the opening pass.
“So, though the situation is a difficult one, I ask the people of this country, and all of you in other companies, to place your trust not in me, but in Chairman Lee Jinhyeok’s vision — and in High Group. Thank you.”
How many seconds passed after he finished and bowed his head? Countless flashes burst, and he even heard some of the reporters applaud, and he came down from the dais.
> The press’s curiosity has grown still further. Public opinion regarding you, Chairman, is much the same.
“I figured as much.”
Back at the company, in the cafeteria the employees used, he ate a breakfast he couldn’t have said was going into his mouth or his nose, and listened to Makina’s report.
The fortunate point is that the reactions are, on the whole, positive. At this level, I expect that the next item — the meeting with the owner family, once preparations for the funeral are underway — will also proceed in a positive direction.
“I really hope that’s true.”
And it was certain that there, in that place, he would meet Park Namil for the first time.
> For reference, there are also a great many assessments of your appearance, Chairman.
“My appearance?”
Yes. I couldn’t say about the rest of it, but there are opinions along these lines as well.
“Pointless talk.”
“Ah, Boss… I mean, Chairman. Are you all right?”
He had been talking through the reactions with Makina and thinking about what came next when Secretary Choi Yura sat down across from him, a tired face and a tray together.
“You worked hard. Secretary Choi Yura, I liked the speech, too.”
“Hehe, thank you. I tried to write it so it would feel familiar to you, Chairman, but it was harder than I thought.”
The face that had been half asleep a moment ago brightened into a smile at a single word of praise, and he almost had the illusion that the air around them brightened with it.
“If there’s something you want to ask of me later, just say so. You worked the most frantically of anyone, so if it’s something I can do, I’ll see it done.”
“Wait, really? Actually, there was one thing I wanted to ask.”
Right away? The thought crossed his mind, but giving a reward was one of the things that mattered, so he nodded and gestured for her to go on.
“Could you… speak more comfortably with me?”
“Sorry?”
The request was nothing he had expected, and a foolish sound escaped him before he knew it — but embarrassed as she was, the eyes Secretary Choi Yura turned on him were more serious than anyone’s.
“It’s just — you know how it is. We’ve worked together for quite a while, and you’re older than I am, but you keep speaking so formally, and also…”
Perhaps she was afraid he would refuse; the way she rushed out her reasons was like watching a puppy that knew it had done something wrong, and he found it cute.
“If that’s all it is, I don’t mind. Yura.”
“Nn…”
He wondered if calling her by her name alone had gone a little too far — but one look at Yura’s face told him this, instead, had been the right answer.
Choi Yura
+3%
So what, exactly, is the standard for that thing supposed to be…?
After that he finished the meal with Yura, who never once met his eyes again, and got into the car bound for the funeral hall.