Do They Look Relaxed?
They look relaxed?
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Click. Click.
Whirr—
The fourth-floor programming team's office was filled only with the clacking of keyboards and mice, along with the faint hum of computer fans.
I nodded silently after checking if the new hires were settling in well.
They're adapting fast.
Hunched postures, bloodshot eyes, rough skin, messy hair from raking hands through it during work.
The standard look of seasoned developers.
Just two weeks in, and they'd already shed their fresh-out-of-school vibe, transforming into proper dev grunts.
"Ahem. Ahem."
"D-Director. Y-You're here?"
I cleared my throat on purpose, and Kim Jae-min—PlayForge's pride and joy, the programming team lead—noticed me right away.
"I stopped by on my way up. How's the Dot Hero update coming? I check the daily progress reports, but I wanted to hear your thoughts from the front lines."
"Y-Yes. The dev speed is a b-bit slow compared to our manpower, but w-we should make the deadline. We'll have to pull overtime every day, though…."
"Overtime. Works wonders, right?"
"Y-Yes…. I think I f-finally get why you make us do overtime now, Director…."
The view from the base of the mountain differs from the peak. Now that he had subordinates of his own, Jae-min seemed to understand my perspective at last.
"F-Forcing coding through overtime is boosting everyone's skills big time. Even the ones struggling to adapt to company life—they're spending more time here than at home, so they've adjusted by force."
"See? Overtime isn't the enemy. And we're not making them work for free—we pay double the hourly rate with overtime allowances. So why all the complaints?"
A few days ago, Namgung Ung from QA—who also helped with my tasks—surveyed the new hires on job satisfaction. Top complaint: too much overtime.
They haven't seen their paychecks yet.
Once payday hits and the money lands in their accounts, their tune will change.
"Keep up the good work. Oh, I ordered coffee from the cafe downstairs—enjoy it when it arrives."
"Th-Thank you. And, Director… the programming team is planning a team dinner tonight…."
"Where?"
"The samgyeopsal place right in front of the office. Everyone looks beat, so we figured some food would help…."
"Team dinners are fine… but isn't the dev schedule tight?"
"Ah…! W-We were just gonna eat and head back to work. No one really drinks anyway…."
Fair enough.
We covered meal allowances up to 20,000 won per person during overtime anyway—just think of it as a bit extra.
What other mid-sized company does this much?
Subsidies for housing and interest-free loans to ease commutes.
Lunch stipends, plus late-night snacks during overtime.
Equipment purchase support if they want to work from home on weekends.
Even accident insurance and full health checkups to keep them healthy.
We'd done it all.
Yet they griped that we had a tad more overtime than other places and it was tough. Kinda hurtful.
"That's what the corporate card is for. Use it freely. But wouldn't beef be better for recharging than pork belly? There's a three-story beef specialist down the main road—go there."
"Th-Thank you."
"And don't forget the team lead meeting this afternoon. Be on time."
"Yes, sir."
Having seen what I needed, I headed for the sixth floor but paused.
Might as well check on the art team while I'm here.
I turned toward the third floor.
Stepping onto three, a pleasant scent hit me right at the entrance—unlike the fourth floor.
Unlike the all-male programming team, art was 30% guys and 70% gals, so the vibe was totally different.
But inside, the atmosphere was anything but bright. Even with the heat on, it felt like a freezing winter gale.
"Revise it."
"Ah~ This doesn't match the director's style… Let's try another version?"
The newbies were getting massacred by the art team's veteran, Min-ji, and Sung-bae.
"This one's good. I'll send it to the team lead."
They barely passed senior review, only to face the witch of the art team: Cha Ju-hee.
"Redo it."
"Y-Yes?"
"Revise it again. We're making skins, not new characters, right? But this strays way too far from the original image."
"Wh-What parts need fixing…?"
"It's not elegant to spell that out. Reread the design doc thoroughly and adjust accordingly."
"Sniff…! Yes…."
I'd ordered the newbies to handle this update for skill-building and evaluation, but watching Ju-hee sip coffee leisurely while demanding revisions—well, in crude terms—
It felt good. Payback.
No reason, just satisfying.
"Director. You're here?"
"Yeah."
Spotting me, Ju-hee approached with light, bouncy steps—unlike when she worked under me. She looked way too happy.
"Ju-hee."
"Yes?"
"When you tell staff to revise, explain exactly what's wrong."
"I did. It doesn't match the design doc's direction or tone. And I was just copying your style, Director… You did the same to me, Min-ji, and Sung-bae."
"…."
"I was imitating my super~ admired Director's work style. Isn't this how it's done?"
It hit a nerve, so I silently checked the rejected newbie's work.
Hmm….
Even I would've said the same.
"You're doing great."
"Right?"
"……We'll see."
I reminded the art team about the afternoon team lead meeting, then headed up to six.
"Boss. You're here."
"You look relaxed too? Finished the BGM for the new Dot Hero stage?"
"Yes. Ages ago."
"Let's hear it."
I slipped on Daniel's headphones.
Hmm….
Daniel's composition wasn't masterpiece level—solid mid-tier stuff. But it fit the new stage in development, and not every game track could be a banger, so I had to approve.
"N-Not bad."
"Sure. Who composed it?"
For some reason, it irked me.
Newbies slaving away, but the veterans looked too comfy. I knew they'd been nonstop on ACD dev before, but as the owner, I suddenly wanted to pile on some tasks.
"No work? Clean the office then."
"Hey! Boss! I'm the team lead, team lead! Have some pride! And we have a cleaning lady!"
"Do it."
"Fuck…. Okay…."
Muttering, Daniel shuffled off, and I returned to my office, labeled [Director's Office].
"Nya!"
"You're back quick."
I scooped up Som-mungchi, who was rubbing her head against my leg in protest, and sank into my pricey office chair. Scanning the seniors, they seemed more laid-back than before, but my workload was still a mountain.
Not dev work—admin, finance, accounting for the company.
Way too much….
Checking revenue, settling payroll, wiring building management fees to vendors, reviewing marketing spend and results. Endless.
It's the mess I chose—no one to blame.
I'd bulked up dev staff but skipped essential support hires (admin, finance, accounting) out of stubbornness.
My fixation on dumping it all on Kim Seung-wook after his mid-November discharge.
Why him specifically when I could just hire anyone? Reasons.
Think long-term.
We were under 50 people now, a small fry. My dream: a major player in the game industry.
For that, I needed someone to handle company ops so I could focus on games—someone capable and trustworthy, the less I micromanaged.
That's Kim Seung-wook.
I planned to groom him into future CFO (Chief Financial Officer) and COO (Chief Operating Officer).
Just feed him experience points…!
If he fell short, I'd hire then—but not yet.
Straight-up offering safety-first Seung-wook a job? He'd bail on my scout. So I had a "Make Kim Seung-wook My Slave" scenario ready.
Treat him to discharge grub, vent my woes.
Cite his awkward November timing—beg for temporary help.
Gradually sneak in my tasks, no time to think.
Stuff his account with salary.
Done.
Smart Seung-wook would realize no big corp post-grad would match my offer.
Thus, PlayForge slave acquired.
One foot in, and it's over.
Knock. Knock.
"Director. The programming and art team seniors are all here."
Lost in visions of wrangling Seung-wook, I'd blown past meeting time while handling work.
"Be right out."
"Yes."
No dedicated conference room, but sixth floor had space after clearing desks and using partitions for an impromptu one.
Not me—Namgung Ung set it up.
"Everyone's here. Good lunch?"
"Yes. New pasta spot nearby was solid. Right, Min-ji?"
"Yeah. Delicious."
I had too much to do, so I'd slurped cup ramen at my desk. Boss eats 1,200-won noodles while staff downs 12,000-won pasta… Felt off, but I buried it.
"Let's start the meeting."
Nothing special.
Daily check-in on project progress, pain points. Attendees: team leads and senior-turned vets. Like an exec huddle.
"L-Let me start with programming's dev progress. The framework's mostly done, so once art sends assets—"
"No. I checked dev status this morning—no need for progress updates."
But today wasn't about the ongoing project (Dot Hero update).
"Other business?"
"Yes."
The team leads and seniors had a blissful week offloading to newbies. Time to work.
"Next month, PlayForge will exhibit at Gamestar in Busan."
"Gamestar? Weren't we skipping due to manpower shortages? Application period's long over…?"
Right. From May to July apps, no plans. Devs short, Dot Hero not even officially out in Korea—bad ROI.
But now?
Staff bolstered, Dot Hero and ACD officially launched here—PlayForge buzz skyrocketing.
ROI potential now, but apps closed ages ago. Then organizers called.
A exhibiting game's bankruptcy freed a booth—want in?
I jumped yes.
Games hot? Promo's always good. Big Asian event like Gamestar? Go if you can.
"Director… Be honest! You signed us up 'cause you hate seeing us idle?!"
"Yes."
No work? I'll make some.
"One month to Gamestar. From now, draft booth plans individually. Time's tight—hurry."