Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Recruitment (2)
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The scenery was both familiar and strange.
That was my first thought as I gazed out the window at Pangyo Techno Valley.
‘So this is what it was like back then.’
Memories of my past life overlapped with the present.
I had spent a quarter of my previous life in this neighborhood. If I rummaged through my memories, I could sketch out a faint picture of Pangyo’s future.
‘The restaurant district.’
That intersection would become a restaurant district, horrendously expensive with ridiculously long lines.
Still, people would say the food was good. The popular soba place, the diner where people preparing for overtime would stop by after work.
All of that was yet to be built.
What had already been established was a single snack shop, operating with a ‘who-put-a-knife-to-your-throat-and-made-you-eat-this?’ level of quality, which was destined to go out of business in six years.
‘The café street.’
An alley packed with franchise cafés would spring up right next to it.
It was a terrible place where you had to wait in line all through lunch just to get a coffee.
‘And…’
The company I used to work for.
I looked at a rather large building in the distance.
It wasn't occupied yet.
A wave of emotion washed over me.
The feeling of being back in this neighborhood, and the fact that I was now heading to a different office, not that building.
As I pushed those feelings aside, Han Seo-rim spoke.
“It’s really a barren wasteland, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, they’ve only just started accepting tenants.”
“Does it have to be here? It’s so remote. The transportation is inconvenient, too.”
“That’ll get better over time.”
From what I remembered, the public transportation lines would be more or less complete in about three to four years.
We’d have to run a shuttle until then, but that was a small price to pay for the advantage of getting into this location early.
“This place will become the heart of Korea’s IT industry. We’ll gain an overwhelming advantage in terms of infrastructure.”
It was true; nearly every major Korean game company would flock here. It would be harder to find a sizable game company that *wasn’t* located here.
There was no need to explain the benefits of that infrastructure in detail.
The important thing was that now, as Studio Rewind began to seriously expand, it would be foolish not to seize such a prime location.
“The move is mostly done, so start thinking about the office layout for the art team. You’ll be the one running it, so it should be tailored to your needs.”
“Just how many people are you planning to hire?”
“For art, 20 to 30 for now.”
“...That many?”
“That’s still a small number. We’ll gradually increase it.”
Han Seo-rim looked appalled, but this was the average.
How could we skimp on art for a AAA game when it was so crucial?
Even if we split the team into graphics and concept art with a 2:3 ratio, that number was far from enough.
A game’s graphics don’t just magically appear.
It’s an extremely labor-intensive process where every single texture on a minor object requires a human touch.
To run things smoothly, it would be best to have around 40 people, considering we’d need to create sub-teams for each part and assign two or three people to each.
“You’re good with people. Don’t worry too much.”
I patted Han Seo-rim’s shoulder.
I wasn’t just saying that. Han Seo-rim was the most reliable person at Studio Rewind right now.
That was true even putting aside the fact that she was a founding member.
She was sharp and had a knack for getting things done.
Her leadership skills were exceptional, considering she had managed the team more effectively than I had until now.
I felt like I could give her an entire floor and she’d manage it just fine on her own.
My only concern was a certain company-related community that would pop up in the future… but that wasn’t something to worry about right now.
Han Seo-rim grumbled for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
“...Give me a raise.”
“Will a raise be enough? When we go public, you’ll be a major shareholder.”
“Trying to tie me down with shares?”
“Yep. For life.”
“You say the most horrifying things.”
Was it really necessary to look that disgusted…?
As I was thinking, Han Seo-rim turned around.
“Okay, I get it. When are you going to start hiring?”
“Soon.”
“How soon is soon?”
“There’s someone I need to get first. After I recruit him.”
Hiring employees was a matter of internal stability.
And a matter of finances.
At our current scale, I could handle it myself, but once we started to grow in earnest, my limited management skills would turn the company into a leaky pot.
That’s why I had to find him.
“I need to hire a manager first.”
From my perspective as a director, they were the most dreadful of demons.
But from a company’s perspective, they were indispensable pillars.
The so-called suits, those scumbags whose titles started with ‘C,’ like CAO and the rest.
None other than the business department.
“Hmm, do you have someone in mind?”
“Yeah, one person.”
Recruiting talent.
This was one of the few moments I could leverage my return to the past.
“I’m just thinking about how to reel him in.”
My memory rewound.
My gaze was fixed on the distant snack shop.
***
That’s how companies are.
While there are guys like me who are treated as nuisances by the higher-ups, there are also those who are showered with so much love they practically become idols.
He was one of them.
“Executive Director Yang is so cool, isn’t he?”
“I know! He’s young and competent. Didn’t he break all the company records for promotions?”
Yang Gil-sang, the icon of successful suits, known as Executive Director Yang.
A super-elite who had lived in the U.S. since middle school, graduated from college there, gained three years of practical experience, and then returned to Korea to join the company.
Why would such a brilliant man join this company?
Not many people knew the real reason.
Perhaps, I was the only one.
If you were to ask how I knew, there was only one answer.
“Hmm? Cheon Yeon-ho?”
“...Assistant Manager Yang.”
He was my lunch buddy.
Though I’m not sure you could call it a friendship.
“Fancy seeing you here. Do you like the food at this place?”
It was my second year at the company. Back then, Pangyo was a food desert, and pursuing any sort of culinary delight required the labor of waiting in a long line.
That was why the aforementioned ‘who-put-a-knife-to-your-throat-and-made-you-eat-this?’ snack shop had managed to survive for six long years.
I met Yang Gil-sang at that very shop.
“May I join you?”
“...Yes.”
“Ahh, thank you. The bibimbap here is amazing, isn’t it?”
I had come to the snack shop wanting a quiet meal, only to realize on my third visit that it was Yang Gil-sang’s regular spot.
I was eating my bibimbap with my head down.
Somehow, he had spotted me from afar, approached, and sat down with me, ordering the same dish.
My first impression of him was this:
“I heard you graduated at the top of your class from Korea University… Is work going well for you?”
He was the kind of guy who memorized other people’s profiles.
His smiling face had the classic look of a suit, so I didn’t take a liking to him.
“There’s a lot to learn.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest. I’ve heard you’re a quick learner.”
“...I just get chewed out all the time.”
“I think having a strong ego is a good thing. Team Leader Kang mentions it sometimes. He says you’re a talent that doesn’t fit in with domestic game companies.”
“Isn’t that an insult?”
“He used the word ‘talent,’ so it’s a compliment. It really was a compliment.”
I gave him curt replies, uncomfortable with his chummy, flattering act.
After that first meeting, quite often, whenever I went to that snack shop without much thought, I would run into Yang Gil-sang and we would eat together.
That was the extent of our relationship.
A brief connection where we’d just greet each other if we passed by, never asking after one another or seeking a personal friendship.
The kind of relationship you forget as soon as you turn your back.
“Bibimbap again today?”
“It’s the soul food of Koreans. I really missed this in the States. You’re having tteokbokki today, Yeon-ho. How is it?”
“Feels like I’m eating animal feed.”
“Harsh.”
We never bothered to talk about work.
The topics that came up at our shared table were the food, brief comments on the news playing on TV, and other light subjects that could be covered within the short 20-minute mealtime.
It was during one of those times that I learned about Yang Gil-sang’s past.
“This company? I came here because I like games. But I have zero talent for development. I couldn’t find the same thrill in making games as I did in playing them. So I went into the business department. I’m pretty good with my head.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you. The youngest assistant manager…”
“Hey, don’t make me blush.”
He liked games but wasn’t confident in development, so he joined the business side.
That was the reason he gave.
We talked a lot after that, but honestly, I don’t remember anything else about Yang Gil-sang as a person.
Our strange shared meals came to an end on the day the snack shop closed down.
I was on the verge of being promoted to team leader, and he was being considered for a director position.
“I guess this is the last of the bibimbap here.”
“Yeah.”
“Where will you eat now, Yeon-ho?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to find another place. What about you, Department Head Yang?”
“I’ll probably just go to the company cafeteria. The bibimbap there is too bland for my taste… but what can you do.”
Our last meal was bibimbap for both of us.
We finished our meal that day without saying much.
There were no goodbyes.
We’d see each other around the office anyway.
“Let’s get back to work.”
That was the last conversation we had.
Later, around the time I quit, he had been promoted to executive director.
An executive director in his late thirties—a monumental achievement.
In any case, putting that past aside, the point to focus on was Yang Gil-sang’s abilities.
As someone who watched him grow within the same company, I knew better than anyone how skilled he was at office management.
He was exactly what we needed.
For a startup like Studio Rewind, managerial weaknesses would become fatal as the company grew.
From what I knew, the best way to prevent that problem was Yang Gil-sang.
A sweet option—was there any reason to turn it down?
All I had to do was pick him up.
So, the problem was:
How to persuade Yang Gil-sang, and where to find him at this point in time?
It was simple.
I walked into the snack shop.
“Welcome!”
And there he was.
Wearing a red apron, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting, a friendly smile on his face.
Yang Gil-sang, the icon of the intellectual elite.
The reason he frequented this snack shop was none other than this:
“Mom! We have a customer!”
This guy was the snack shop owner’s son.
“Actually, my mom runs this place.”
“?”
“Sorry. I actually told my mom you said the tteokbokki tasted like animal feed yesterday. It was a mistake, a real mistake. But my conscience wouldn’t let me keep it a secret.”
“...The owner is giving me a sharp look.”
“I smoothed things over, so just bear with it for today. I did tell her you liked the bibimbap, though.”
The past and present overlapped.
Just like in my memory, Yang Gil-sang spoke cheerfully.
“Would you like to sit at this empty table here? Oh wait, they’re all empty, aren’t they? Hahaha, we just opened so we don’t have many customers yet! Anyway, what can I get for you?”
“Bibimbap.”
“Oh, an excellent choice! That’s our signature dish!”
I sat down and looked at Yang Gil-sang.
To be precise, I looked at his head.
Pomaded hair, slicked back with wax.
A gentle M-shaped hairline.
Superimposing my memory over it, a sigh escaped me.
‘His hair was so thick back then.’
Having eaten with him at close range for so long, I had noticed something.
His hairline had retreated year after year.
And,
“Oh, my hair? I shaved it because it felt stuffy. A skinhead looks manly, doesn’t it?”
In the end, he couldn’t bear to watch his retreating hairline and opted to shave his head.
“Hair loss? No, it’s not that. It’s just for style. Style.”
In five years, Yang Gil-sang would be bald.
My heart ached for him.
***
Yang Gil-sang, 29 years old.
After spending three years in the American finance and business world, he returned to Korea and was currently enjoying a short break while helping out at his mother’s shop.
During another slow lunch hour, Gil-sang watched a lone customer come in and eat bibimbap.
‘Why does he look so familiar?’
Gil-sang narrowed his eyes.
No matter how he looked at him, that annoyingly handsome face was familiar.
But he couldn’t for the life of him remember who it was.
‘Strange…’
Gil-sang usually had a good memory for names and faces.
He could even remember the face and name of a kid who was in the class next to his in elementary school.
But he couldn’t place this man.
It was odd. If the man felt this familiar, a sense of déjà vu, it meant he had definitely seen his face before.
And there was no way he would forget someone that handsome, yet his name wouldn’t come to mind.
Gil-sang groaned and rubbed his hairline with his index finger.
It was a habit of his when he was thinking.
Just then.
The man spoke.
“Excuse me.”
“Ah, yes!”
Gil-sang stood up and walked over to the man with a smile.
The bibimbap bowl was empty.
‘Oh, he finished it all.’
Most people couldn’t even finish half. His tastes seemed quite simple.
His favorability, which had dropped due to the man's annoyingly handsome face, rose slightly.
Gil-sang’s smile widened.
“Would you like the check?”
“No.”
“Huh?”
“Could you sit down for a moment?”
The man pushed the bibimbap bowl to the side.
Gil-sang hesitated for a moment before sitting down across from him.
“What is it?”
There were no other customers, so it probably didn’t matter.
As he asked, the man handed him a business card.
“This is who I am.”
In the next moment.
“...Ah!”
Seeing the company name on the card, Gil-sang finally understood why the man had looked so familiar.
His eyes flew wide open.
His jaw dropped.
“Right! I knew I’d seen you somewhere!”
Gil-sang shot up from his seat, his face flushed with excitement.
Of course,
“Studio Rewind! *Hellic*!”
Gil-sang had also been a fan who enjoyed playing *Hellic*.
Gil-sang’s index finger pointed at Yeon-ho.
“3-Meter Alice!”
“?”
“...The director who cosplayed as her!”
No wonder he hadn’t recognized him at first.
What Gil-sang had seen was the picture of Yeon-ho in drag that had been circulating in the online communities!
Overcome with delight, Gil-sang said.
“I really enjoyed the game!”
“…”
Yeon-ho’s lips pressed into a tight line.
Recruitment (2)