All Wrongs Return to Right (Revised)
While Namgung Ung was off fetching Kim Min-ji, I hunched over his phone and picked apart a horrifying video I had no memory of ever being recorded.
—Sir!
—Ugh. Su. Ah. Yah. Don't. Worry. Run…, go!
The facial acting was passable enough, but watching myself spit out lines worse than a high school drama club member made me want to crawl into a hole.
—Min…su. Please… kill me.
—H, Hayoung. I can't do that─
—It's… my last… kheuk. Wish… Please. I want to die… as a human… being.
The original plan had been to capture only the motion on set and hand the lines over to professional voice actors, but seeing my actual face instead of a placeholder model made every intonation and syllable of my delivery look utterly pathetic.
If this had been anyone else, I would have laughed it off — rough day, huh? — but I couldn't. Because the one performing in blue tights with tracking stickers plastered all over his face was me.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"D, Director. K, Kim Min-ji is here to see you."
"Send her in."
The door opened, and Kim Min-ji entered the Director's Office wearing her usual expression of flat indifference.
"You called for me?"
"I did. Have a seat here."
Her deadpan eyes seemed to carry a silent question: you called me away from my work for this?
"I honestly have no idea why you called me here."
"Is this a work directive?"
"Haah… Just watch this."
I held out the smartphone I'd borrowed from Namgung Ung and slid it toward her.
"This. What is it."
"I don't know what you mean. Isn't that footage of you being recorded, Director? You'd know better than I would."
"That's! Not! What! I'm asking!"
"Nyaaat!"
At my raised voice, Som-mungchi, dozing on the cat tower, puffed up into a ball and bristled into defensive mode. Kim Min-ji, however, merely tilted her head as if she genuinely couldn't see the problem.
"I would appreciate a detailed explanation."
"Why did you record the set! And why is it on Namgung Ung's and Ha Boyoung's phones! That's what I'm asking!"
"Ah-ha."
An ah-ha my ass.
I'd trusted her with so much responsibility that she'd even been given charge of the animation sub-team under the Art Department — never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this kind of betrayal.
"Well, you asked why I recorded it first, so I'll explain that."
"Please. I'm dying to know."
"I recorded it because there was no reason not to."
"…?"
"I also wanted to compare real human movement against the dummy model's animations."
She'd recorded it because it might help the work. The anger that had been boiling up to the crown of my head subsided a little.
'I mean, it could help. I've seen it with my own eyes, but memories fade when you're buried in the actual work.'
Right. Fine. I'd let this one slide. If it was in service of squeezing out even a little more detail.
"Then explain why footage you should be keeping for personal reference was being watched by Namgung Ung and Ha Boyoung of the QA Team — who aren't even in the Art Department. And your reason had better be a reasonable one."
"I didn't do that?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why would I share that with anyone?"
At Kim Min-ji's shameless answer, the anger that had settled reignited like a struck match.
"You shared it, that's why those people have it─"
"That is a misunderstanding. I simply saved it to the reference materials folder to consult during my work as needed."
"…?"
That's the Art Department's shared folder, you realize.
"Why did you upload it there of all places!"
"Reference materials go in the reference materials folder. Isn't that the rule you set, Director?"
"…"
It was such a perfectly reasonable statement that no rebuttal would leave my mouth.
'Reference materials do belong in the reference folder. She's right.'
Looking at Kim Min-ji's unbothered face — the face of someone who had done nothing malicious and simply followed instructions to the letter — my conviction that she had circulated that vicious video across the company to humiliate me, to demolish my social dignity, cracked clean down the middle.
"Hold on. The Art Department's reference folder should only be viewable by the Art Department, no? On personal phones, at that?"
"That's correct."
"Then why is the QA Team watching it?"
"Team Leader Cha Juhui reviewed it and shared it to the Development Division's common work folder. She said it would be a waste for only us to see it."
"…"
Found her. The culprit.
The mastermind behind this entire fiasco.
"Whew. What had to come has come."
At the Director's message arriving mid-task, Cha Juhui set down her tablet pen with the composed expression of a monk accepting fate.
She had fully expected this summons. The moment Kim Min-ji was called up to the sixth floor, she'd known it was only a matter of time before she followed. Cha Juhui and Kim Min-ji had been through the trenches together and grown genuinely close outside of work — and Cha Juhui knew that Min-ji would never lie to cover for her.
And yet, she smiled.
Was she afraid of Cho Yihan's fury? Of course she was. What office worker on this earth doesn't fear their boss's wrath? If this place were the wild, Cho Yihan was the elephant and she was the crocodile. No matter how the crocodile thrashed and gnashed, to the elephant it was nothing more — and nothing less — than a plaything.
But she had already prepared a perfectly rational excuse to present to him.
'I'll just say the mocap footage was company material and belonged in the shared archive. What could he possibly do about that?'
"Huh? Team Leader, did you call for me?"
"No. Get back to work."
One of her own team members had apparently overheard the little monologue she'd let slip, but it didn't matter. This was Cha Juhui's small fiefdom. She was a subject in Cho Yihan's kingdom, but within these borders, Cha Juhui was the lord. And a nearby lord, as everyone knows, is far more feared than a distant king.
She rode the elevator up to the sixth floor without a tremor in her composure.
The moment the doors opened, she found Kim Min-ji waiting outside. She gave her a faint smile and asked:
"Min-ji. Was the Director very angry?"
"Mm… Yes."
"Oh my. How terrifying. Fufufu."
"Didn't I tell you not to do it? I've never seen the Director that angry before."
"What's that supposed to mean! Compared to what he does to us, that was him being affectionate!"
Cha Juhui walked in with her head held high.
This was, plainly and simply, an employee benefit. If they ran a job-satisfaction survey right this second, every response would converge on 'extremely satisfied.' Cho Yihan — known as the Coding Demon in the Development Division and the Revision Demon in the Art Department — captured on video in a moment of utter humiliation. If that wasn't company welfare, what on earth was it?
'He worked us to the bone while bragging about how generous the benefits were. This much, he'll let slide with a laugh.'
But Cha Juhui had badly underestimated Cho Yihan's anger.
"Cha Juhui."
"Hyeek!"
First of all, his face was different.
The mouth-corner smile that perpetually hung there had flattened into a single straight line. It was terrifying in a way she had no armor for.
And then, the way he addressed her.
The man who always called her Juhui, surname dropped and casual, had suddenly attached it: Cha Juhui. It might look like the most trivial difference imaginable, but to Cha Juhui it summoned a memory from childhood — of her parents calling her Juhui-ya every day, until the day she did something wrong and their voice turned to Cha! Juhui!
"I, I can explain─"
She scrambled to deploy the excuse she'd prepared, but Cho Yihan, still seated, silently raised one hand.
"One month's salary deduction."
The verdict came down without a single question allowed. Cha Juhui's face went white.
This is unjust.
What kind of court in the world convenes without a judge, a prosecutor, or a defense attorney! Certain that she at least deserved a chance to speak in her own defense, Cha Juhui overcame the unknown terror of an enraged Cho Yihan and pushed back.
"A, a salary deduction?! That's too—"
"The black heart inside Cha Juhui. Did you really think I couldn't see it?"
"Hyeek! Wh, what is that supposed to mean?! A pure soul like me, a black heart?! You must be mistaking me for—"
"Enough. I can see it without looking. Min-ji uploading my footage to the Art Department's shared folder? That I understand. The Min-ji I've known is exactly that kind of person. But the Cha Juhui who reviewed that video once it hit the shared folder — she thought something, didn't she. Ah. This would be hilarious if I put it in the company-wide folder… Am I wrong?"
"N, no! It wasn't some sinister scheme, it was f, for the next game's development—"
Cha Juhui threw every excuse she had at the wall, but not one speck of it stuck to Cho Yihan.
"Two months' deduction. Just how many years do you think I've watched you, Cha Juhui? Don't try to deceive me."
Watched me for how long, exactly?!
She wanted to snap back — you know me that well, do you? — but a sliver of sanity remained lodged in her skull, and she could not bring herself to hurl abuse at her superior.
Since they'd already come this far with salary deductions, Cha Juhui decided to brazen it out.
"I, on what grounds! What company rule did I even break to earn a deduction—"
"Security violation."
"What?"
"A serious one. An extremely serious security violation."
Did it really have to escalate this far?
Cha Juhui was flabbergasted — but Cho Yihan's expression was dead serious.
"If this video had circulated only within the Art Department, I would have ground my teeth and let it go. Failing to tell Min-ji not to record at the mocap studio was my fault, and I could even understand her putting it in the reference materials folder."
"Th, then…"
"But you, Cha Juhui, crossed the line, and I cannot let that stand."
"You didn't even listen to my side!"
"Do I need to? An ordinary employee had company internal material stored on her personal phone. No particularly sensitive information on it, and it's just footage of the Director — me — making a fool of himself, so it probably felt harmless enough to pass around on personal devices, right?
And then one tiny issue like this snowballs, and one day it's a full-blown security incident! I! Intend to make this the cautionary example. So spare me the excuses. Frankly, this is a good thing — it was a conversation we needed to have eventually, and now we have our example. I'll educate the staff, and the perpetrator will pay the price."
Cha Juhui's legs gave out and she crumpled into a chair.
One of the few joys of her grueling office life was her paycheck — and now two whole months of it were being docked.
Lunchtime restaurant hunts with Kim Min-ji, the massage chairs in the lounge, the endlessly restocked snack bar and coffee, slapping rejection stamps on the smug submissions of junior artists, and on and on and on.
One of the hundred and one pillars holding up Cha Juhui's will to come to work had just collapsed.
"H, how much is the deduction…?"
"I intend to apply the legal maximum."
"Hyiiik! H, how many percent?!"
"About 2% off your monthly pay."
"…What?"
The figure was so modest that Cha Juhui was thrown off balance. All that ominous atmosphere, like he was handing down some catastrophic punishment — and it was a measly 2%?
'Wasn't he going to dock at least 50 percent?'
Nothing to be done about it. Cha Juhui had never been on the receiving end or even heard of it, but that was the statutory cap. The 10% and 20% salary deductions she'd seen in dramas and movies were all flat-out illegal if you reported them.
With how much he already shaved off his employees' working hours, this was as hard as Cho Yihan could legally hit her.
But Cha Juhui didn't let it show. She exaggerated it — wailed, even.
"HYEEEK!"
"Savor it."
"Director… please… just once… show mercy…"
"Tsk. No. That said, given the ability you've demonstrated all this time, I won't factor this into your performance review. Understand that much and go."
She was the Art Department's Team Leader already, after all — there was nowhere higher for her to fall. Even so, she wailed as though she'd received a catastrophic sentence, a loyal retainer condemned to drink poison.
"Director, I beg you, show clemency and—"
"Enough. We're done here. Go back down and focus on your work. You've received your discipline, so you'd best work hard to make up for it."
"Sob… Understood. I will repay it with my work."
Watching Cho Yihan wave her toward the door, she backed out of the Director's Office without ever showing him her back.
And then, she smiled.
'Got off cheap, honestly!'
Cho Yihan refusing to even hear her excuse had been unexpected, but a mere 2% monthly deduction? She'd seen his expression and braced for disaster — and it had resolved beautifully.
'If an opportunity comes up again, I'm doing it again~'
Discipline at this level was entirely manageable. Cha Juhui resolved that next time she'd be more careful — commit her pranks at a level that skirted the company rulebook entirely. But that was her delusion.
Performance reviews and disciplinary records are two separate ledgers. No company on earth pays a performance bonus to someone under formal discipline — and 40% of Cha Juhui's pay came in the form of bonuses that Cho Yihan personally distributed. Whether she could keep cackling like this on a salary with no bonus attached was, shall we say, an open question.
It's something I feel every time I develop a game after regressing, but when you have something to pour every last nerve into, time flows at a terrifying speed.
The prototype was finished in January 2012. The motion capture shoot wrapped in March.
And in May, I submitted our application to exhibit at the Tokyo Game Show.
"D, Director. But the v, vertical slice we're supposed to unveil isn't finished yet…"
Jaemin had a point. The vertical slice — essentially a playable taste of the game — was nowhere near complete by the time the show rolled around.
But we had a way around that.
"We split the vertical slice again. Take an already limited zone and limit it further."
To use Seoul as an example: if the original vertical slice was the size of Jongno District, then the slice we'd show at the game show only needed to be the size of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
"Th, that's a scam…"
"Now, now. Scam is a strong word. It's simply an unfinished build due to time constraints."
I had no choice. If the eyes of Nanosoft and Sonia's game division landed on us at this show, the odds of negotiating good terms shot way up.