Personnel Promotion
Condition: peak.
After a long sleep, her skin was in top form.
Zero fatigue.
“Lulu~ Lala~ Hmm~”
Cha Ju-hee hummed a little tune as she walked lightly toward the office.
‘If every day could be like yesterday, that would be perfect~’
Though temporary, Daniel’s PlayForge felt nothing like Jo Yihan’s PlayForge, which only piled on overtime.
They let everyone leave early—at seven in the evening—and there were no sudden one-on-one “hearings” during work hours.
Compared to Jo Yihan’s PlayForge, yesterday had felt like heaven.
“Couldn’t you just skip coming in today?”
She figured he must still be hungover, so if he took a few more days to rest, it would be good for everyone—including the director.
‘He hasn’t even taken a vacation!’
Cha Ju-hee indulged in her cheeky fantasy as she stepped into the elevator.
She opened the office door and greeted everyone as usual.
“Good morni—!”
The first thing she saw upon entering was Jo Yihan sitting right in front of the door.
He had his legs crossed on an expensive office chair, leaning back while gently stroking Som-mungchi on his lap.
“You’re here, Ju-hee.”
A chill ran down Cha Ju-hee’s spine.
‘Why… why is he sitting like a villainous boss from a movie while petting the cat…?’
Was she late? No.
Today’s Cha Ju-hee was in peak condition, so she had arrived earlier than usual.
It was still before even Hwang Seok-ho, who always came in after Jo Yihan, had shown up.
Had she done something wrong? No.
No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t recall doing anything that would upset Director Jo Yihan.
‘Don’t tell me it’s because I left early yesterday?’
If that was the case, she felt deeply wronged.
Even though she had left at seven, she had finished every single task.
If this was how things worked, she couldn’t stay silent as the leader of the early-leavers’ faction.
“Director, don’t tell me you’re acting like this just because I left early yesterday? In that case, as the union leader supported by the employees, I formally protest—”
“What are you talking about? You seem to be misunderstanding something… Take a look at this.”
Jo Yihan held out his phone.
Curious about why he was putting on such an intimidating atmosphere, Cha Ju-hee leaned in—and immediately jumped like a cat that had stepped on aluminum foil.
“Eek!”
It was the review she had left on GoodJob Korea right after joining.
‘H-how did he…!’
She had completely forgotten she even wrote it, and never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the company owner and lead director—her boss—would find it.
Her body unconsciously took a step back.
Thud.
But there was nowhere to run inside the office.
The door pressed against her back.
“What is this?”
Jo Yihan rose from his chair and strode toward her, phone still extended.
Realizing escape was impossible, Cha Ju-hee’s eyes darted around.
“W-what is that? Oh my, who would leave such a nasty comment like this?”
“I think you know better than anyone.”
“M-me? N-no, it wasn’t me?! D-Director! You can’t just accuse an innocent person like this!”
She tried to play dumb, but there was no hiding the truth.
“The tone of this review matches your way of speaking exactly.”
“D-Director, are you some kind of profiler? That’s not evidence!”
The more Jo Yihan’s eyes narrowed, the more cold sweat soaked Cha Ju-hee’s body.
“Ju-hee. Admit it.”
“I-I’m telling you it’s not me!”
“If you don’t admit it, the promotion is off the table.”
“Promotion? Me?”
“That was the plan.”
Before making additional hires, Jo Yihan had intended to promote two existing employees to temporary team leader positions.
The top candidates were Kim Jae-min from the programming team and Cha Ju-hee from the art team.
It was the conclusion he had reached after careful consideration.
He had worried that Kim Jae-min’s timid nature might prevent him from leading the team, but his programming skills far exceeded his experience level.
‘Skill comes before social ability.’
Jo Yihan planned to personally help cover any communication shortcomings.
Cha Ju-hee had been chosen as the art team leader candidate purely for her ability.
She had earned extra points for showing interest in 3D modeling and studying it in her spare time, but among the three existing employees, no one was more qualified than her in both skill and social ability.
Yet she had been badmouthing the company behind his back!
Jo Yihan couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt this betrayed.
‘Even if she’s blunt, maybe I should promote Min-ji to art team leader instead…’
Jeon Seong-bae, also a graphic designer, was out of the question.
In Jo Yihan’s opinion, the man still had too much ego left; promoting him would only make it worse.
“I-I’m getting promoted?”
“That was the plan. I was also going to give you a significant raise, but I think I need to reconsider.”
“I’m sorry! It was me!”
In the end, Cha Ju-hee confessed.
*
Cha Ju-hee knelt neatly in front of him and pressed her upper body flat against the floor.
‘Is this what they call dogeza…?’
Seeing it in real life left him oddly flustered.
“P-please calm down!”
“I’ll delete the review right away! I just… I was worried that innocent lambs in society might join without knowing what they were getting into and suffer too much…! It was a kind of warning so only people who were prepared would apply! I-I’ll only leave positive comments about the company from now on, so please don’t cancel the promotion…!”
“No, if you get promoted, your workload will increase. You said you hate overtime, Ju-hee.”
“But I’ll get paid more! If I’m going to work overtime anyway, I might as well get more money for it… And besides, seeing ‘Art Team Leader Cha Ju-hee’ in the game credits instead of ‘Art Team Member Cha Ju-hee’ would feel much better…”
In the workplace, promotion was indeed a way to gain both money and prestige.
“It was a joke. Get up.”
“Huh? Really? Then the promotion…?”
“I was just thinking it over for a moment. I planned to announce it at today’s staff meeting.”
Min-ji would probably do fine if given the role, but even accounting for that tiny flaw, Cha Ju-hee was still the right choice for art team leader.
“Thank you! I’ll delete the review right now!”
“Do that immediately.”
“Yes! By the way, Director, may I ask why you suddenly checked GoodJob Korea?”
“Obviously to hire new employees.”
“Hiring! Finally!”
Cha Ju-hee shot to her feet, her body trembling with excitement.
“H-how many people are you planning to hire?”
“About twenty for programming, eleven for art? Ah, and I’m also creating a new QA team, so two more there.”
“Eek—!”
“You should start thinking of questions for the interviews too. The two people who’ll be promoted to team leaders will also be attending.”
“Whoa…! Isn’t that too many people joining at once?”
“That’s why the team leaders need to do their jobs well.”
“My responsibilities just got a lot heavier…! More importantly, interviews!”
Cha Ju-hee’s body shook violently, apparently not having expected to participate in the interviews.
“Can I be brutally honest?! Like how my professor tore apart my graduation project?!”
“No, that would be a bit much.”
“Can I pressure the candidates with a cold, indifferent stare? Like what I went through during entrance exams?!”
“Do you have to?”
“Can I click my tongue just loud enough for them to barely hear it? Like what corporate interviewers did to me before I got hired?!”
“Ju-hee. Interviews are not the place to take revenge for what you went through.”
“I’m joking! I would never do that, right? Heh, hehehe.”
The gloomy laughter was highly suspicious.
“What should I do then?”
“First, review the applicants’ portfolios and sort them. During the interviews, handle questions related to specialized knowledge that I might be lacking.”
“I’m still learning 3D modeling, so I’m not very good at it yet. Is that okay?”
“You’re just not used to it yet. You’ve been doing this work long enough that your eye for quality isn’t lacking. I want you to catch the details I might miss.”
“I can do that much! Leave it to me!”
That day, he promoted Kim Jae-min and Cha Ju-hee to team leaders and posted the job listing on GoodJob Korea.
*
Countless applications flooded in through GoodJob Korea.
These were serious applicants, not the half-hearted ones from the first round of hiring.
‘Our company’s recognition has really gone up.’
A few days ago, the Game Rating and Administration Committee had finally reached an agreement with the two major app markets.
As a result, Dot Hero had been released on the Korean market, and Korean gamers who heard it had taken first place overseas began downloading it in droves.
‘People who can’t stand being behind on trends. National pride… was even stronger now than in the future.’
Thanks to that, Dot Hero had reached number one on the Korean charts as well.
On top of that, word had spread that ACD, which was currently popular on Storm, was also made by them, boosting their recognition even further.
“D-Director, there are way too many applications…? Am I supposed to sort all of these? There are already over a hundred portfolios alone…”
“I’ll help, so don’t worry.”
“Th-there are also a lot of applicants for the p-programming positions. W-what criteria should I use to s-sort them?”
“If they’ve worked on any projects, check what role they played. If not, see what and how much they’ve studied. Don’t get fooled by flowery self-introductions—focus on actual skill.”
The hiring standard was ultimately skill.
Unlike other companies’ open recruitment that valued volunteer work, TOEIC scores, study-abroad experience, or academic background, PlayForge would focus purely on ability.
A graduate from a prestigious university with average skills was less valuable than a high-school graduate with real talent.
“I-I’m done…”
“Me too!”
After the proud PlayForge team leaders finished their first round of screening, Jo Yihan reviewed the shortlist himself.
He skimmed through the programming applicants but paid closer attention to the art portfolios.
“Ju-hee. Remove this person.”
“Huh? Why? Their portfolio looked fine.”
“Something feels off.”
Even in the present day—before feminist ideology had become prominent in the future—he occasionally came across people who injected their personal beliefs into their work.
‘Does she think this company is a joke?’
He didn’t particularly care what personal ideologies his employees held.
Whether they were communists, anarchists, feminists, or vegetarians, as long as they did their jobs well, it was fine.
But expressing those beliefs through their work?
That was absolutely unacceptable.
He tolerated Jeon Seong-bae’s ego because it was just a cute desire to make monsters look properly monstrous, not an attempt to push personal ideology.
But if someone tried to use the game he created to vent their own desires, that person would have to pack their bags and leave.
The only person allowed to express ideology through his game was himself.
‘Not that I have any particular ideology to push.’
Even the director overseeing game development could get torn apart by players and see sales plummet if they tried to push personal beliefs through the game—that was what happened in the future.
There was no way he would allow an employee to do the same.
“It’s a bit of a shame…”
“Remove them. Their skill isn’t good enough to justify keeping someone who makes us uncomfortable.”
“O-okay…”
Thirteen applicants were filtered out.
The final document screening results were fifty-one for programming, thirty-seven for art, and five for QA.
“Could you send messages to the successful applicants? Programming in the morning, art in the afternoon.”
“There are almost a hundred people. The three of us handling it all seems like too much. We’ll need someone to respond to inquiries and guide applicants in order. Besides, if we’re acting as interviewers, wouldn’t it hurt our authority if we’re also doing the grunt work?”
“Good point. Since there’s no urgent work right now, I’ll have the other employees pause their tasks and help with interview preparations.”
Worried they might feel exploited for non-work tasks, he promised everyone an early dismissal at six o’clock on interview day, and no one raised any major complaints.
They cleared out the entire fourth floor of the building and arranged furniture to create an interview atmosphere.
“Whoa… D-Director, I-I can really feel that the company has grown.”
“You didn’t feel it when we moved into the new building?”
“W-we’ve basically only been using the fifth and sixth floors, so…”
“True. Still, from now on, we’ll start utilizing the space properly. Fourth floor for the programming team, third floor for the art team.”
“I-it’s a little disappointing. W-working together felt n-nice…”
As Kim Jae-min said, small studios had their own charm, but if the company wanted to grow, separating teams by function was necessary.
Keeping everyone crammed together would only cause unnecessary discomfort.
“I’ll still come by often, so don’t worry.”
“I-I don’t really want to see you often, D-Director…”
“Suddenly I feel hurt. Why?”
“B-because you only come to give work orders or tell us to fix bugs…”
This was exactly why he disliked sharp young people.
There was almost no other reason for him to visit another floor.
“Let’s focus on preparing for the interviews.”