The Pure White Suit

The two thin lines suddenly writhed and curled in on themselves.

The slender threads that had rested at the pit of my stomach slid upward and settled in around my heart. With a soft, sliding whisper, they drew themselves into two small circles. It felt as if a pair of tiny rings had been set into the flesh there, overlapping the way the Olympic rings overlap.

I knew it by instinct. This was the 2nd Circle. In the usual novels a mage's rank split neatly into first circle, second circle, and so on, and reaching the second meant you had at least shed the stink of a rank beginner.

Whether their circles and this were the same thing, of course, I had no idea.

Perhaps because I had reached the 2nd Circle, time seemed to hurry. Before I knew it, the bus had arrived in Seoul.

I stepped off. Becoming a 2nd Circle mage didn't mean fireballs or bolts of lightning were suddenly bursting from my hands. My body, though, felt far lighter than when I had boarded, and my thoughts seemed to turn quicker than usual.

"Oh."

Before getting off, I had looked up how to grow ginseng.

"The apartment's temperature swings all over the place, but— ah!"

My office matched every condition ginseng needed in order to thrive. The temperature there stayed constant, and I aired the place constantly so the books wouldn't rot.

Even if it grew poorly, I had nothing to worry about. I already knew how to make it grow well.

At the market I bought the sandy loam they sold as potting soil, a secondhand LED planter, ginseng seeds, and the rest, then headed for the company.

"Hmm."

It was my first time coming in on a weekend. The place was surprisingly busy. No rank-and-file staff — managers and above, at the least, filing back in after their meals.

"Huh? Isn't that Jiwoo?"

Manager Park from PR, smacking his lips, had spotted me. He came over beaming, dressed as always in a flashy, pure-white suit.

"Well, well, Jiwoo! What brings you to the office on a weekend?"

I bowed my head.

"Hello, Manager Park."

"Yeah, yeah — wait, does Information Documentation even pull weekend duty? And what's all that?"

"Ah, the office is a bit gloomy, so I thought I'd plant something. I'm not on duty."

Manager Park snorted.

"Right, right, that's the spirit. Basement level five is pretty dark and dreary, isn't it? You'd need at least that much just to survive down there. Trash-tier— oops! Coming out of some backwater provincial flagship, you must be missing all that nature! Regional flagship national university — that's the term, right? I've gotten real good at the abbreviations lately, heh heh."

The sneering and the contempt were exactly the same as always. Strangely, though, unlike before, the feeling didn't stir in me at all. It was like listening to the dog next door bark.

And this from someone who had once been shaken badly enough to drink alone at home.

He had even smacked the back of my head, or jabbed my solar plexus with his fist, and called it training. A few of the trainees had reported the assaults to HR, only to be ignored.

I nodded along and studied him without letting it show. Between the legs of his suit trousers, red lines were swaying this way and that.

Looking closer, the Red Lines were pouring from around his backside like water from a tap. I had wondered why he always lingered so long in the bathroom — figured he was watching videos on his phone — but apparently not. Constipation or hemorrhoids, and there wasn't much you could do about either.

"Yeah, yeah, see you later, then. I'm on duty with the old fossil today, so I've ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got to get upstairs."

The old fossil was the deputy director of PR. A bit of a stick-in-the-mud, but unlike Manager Park, a decent man who didn't look down on people to their faces.

"Yes. I'll see you again."

"Yeah, yeah, hang in there!"

I bowed. Manager Park turned away with one corner of his mouth lifted — that same contemptuous smile he always wore.

"Hoo..."

I drew a long breath and poured every ounce of focus into my index finger. Blue lines gathered there, thickening into a respectable cord worthy of the 2nd Circle.

That thick, it might actually punch clean through a body, so I thinned it out. Eating the ginseng packed full of blue lines seemed to have improved my control. I checked my surroundings. And then—

The thinned blue line shot out like a laser and pierced the twitching cleft of Manager Park's backside.

Thwack!

Manager Park, about to badge in at the entrance, screamed and collapsed where he stood.

"Guh—!"

Thud!

Startled, the security guards came running.

"H-hey! Are you all right?"

"Ghk— s-save me—"

Manager Park clutched his rear with both hands, his whole body twitching. Between the seat of his white suit trousers, a red stain began to spread.

A wet trickle.

Passing employees startled and pointed at the seat of his pants. A few raised their phones and started filming.

"Holy— is that blood?"

"Can't be his period bursting, obviously. Hemorrhoids."

"Hemorrhoids can get that bad?"

"Jesus, that's that famous psycho from PR. The one who power-trips like crazy... but if your hemorrhoids are that severe, how sane ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can you even be on a normal day? No ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wonder his personality's garbage. Honestly? Fair."

Walking past the entrance, I looked down at Manager Park lying on his side. He covered his face with both hands and shouted.

"A-ambulance...! Somebody call an ambulance...! I-it huuuurts...!"

Another wet rush.

Normally I was the extreme avoidance type. Becoming a mage, it seemed, had made me considerably more spiteful.

Spiteful. Not bad.

I set the LED planter on my desk, planted the ginseng seeds, and covered them properly with soil. I even fetched water from the bathroom and sprinkled it on evenly.

An ordinary person might have tilted their head and wondered whether they had planted it right. I didn't.

A faint shimmer. The color was very pale, but blue lines were rising out of the soil and swaying gently. First of all, it meant the seeds had settled in properly. Ginseng was something that accumulated mana — for all practical purposes, a spirit elixir straight out of a martial arts novel.

A chime.

A note arrived on the company messenger. Plugging the planter's cord into the power strip must have turned the computer on, and the messenger with it.

I shut the computer off and went straight up to PR. The moment I arrived, the deputy director greeted me.

"Jiwoo, you're here."

"Hello, Deputy Director."

"Yeah — so, it's just... Manager Park got hauled off to the ER all of a sudden, and I was standing there going what do I do, what do I do, and then — bam! — your messenger lit up. So I contacted you right away!"

"Ah, yes. What's going on?"

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remember the PR director we saw in the elevator before?"

"Yes, I remember."

The PR director who had been getting torn apart by his wife. I remembered him very well. The deputy director watched my face carefully as he went on.

"Monday is the National Assembly audit, and the chairman is going in as a witness. So the PR director is on a razor's edge. Every weekend he summons the PR staff and grills them on this and that."

"But the manager in charge of that suddenly ended up like this... I know it's shameless of me to ask, but could you help out, just for today? It's really nothing — that Southeast Asia ESG section you handed over before...!"

I looked at the deputy director for a long moment. He was the one who had stood on my side and tried to help me to the end. When he learned I was being converted to a contract position instead of a permanent one, he had even gone and argued with the head of PR to his face.

Of course, the moment the head of PR got worked up, he had folded in a single second with a yelp. Still, doing it and not doing it were very different things. If I was going to stay at the company for a while, keeping a few connections wasn't a bad idea — and getting close to PR, famous as the company's information hub, had plenty of advantages.

"If it's only a moment, sure."

The deputy director seized both my hands, looking deeply moved.

"Yes! Five minutes! Really, five minutes is all!"

"Five minutes is nothing."

"Jiwoo, you're the best! So cool! The best! From what I saw before, you already know all the material, right?"

"Yes. I've got it all down."

"Okay! That's a huge relief! Let's pop up and get it over with!"

The deputy director and I headed for the PR director's executive office on the thirtieth floor.

The door creaked.

We opened it and stepped inside, and the PR director tilted his head.

"Hm? Where's Manager Park?"

The deputy director laughed, awkward and bright.

"Ah, he suddenly fell ill and went to the hospital, Director. In his place I brought that sharp kid from before — you remember him, don't you?"

The PR director looked at me and nodded.

"Right... Han Jiwoo, was it?"

I bowed politely.

"Yes, that's correct."

"Mm. From what I saw then, your memory seemed pretty solid."

Beside me, the deputy director shot a thumbs-up.

"He can handle any question you throw at him. Jiwoo had the highest score among this batch of trainees."

"What? If his score was that high, why was he assigned somewhere like Information Documentation?"

"Ah, well..."

The deputy director glanced at me, awkward. I felt nothing in particular. Diplomas and the like no longer held much sway over my life. Section D and the Book of Truth mattered more.

"I graduated from a poor university."

The PR director's eyes went round, and then he laughed, big and open.

"Hahahaha, right. Our company's a bit of a credential snob, I'll give you that. But don't worry. I went to a provincial university myself."

The deputy director startled.

"What? But Director, you clearly went to Seoul National—"

"Yeah, yeah, graduate school was Seoul National. When I was a manager I basically laundered my credentials to hide where I'd come from. Undergrad was a provincial school. Back then the company was small, so they didn't care much about alma maters."

"Ah... I-I see..."

"What? You about to look down on me for going to a provincial school?"

"Eep—! N-not at all...! If anything, I think it's impressive...!"

Another white line appeared above the deputy director's head. If anything, that cool streak seemed to have earned the man some goodwill. If it weren't for the red line glittering at the PR director's groin, I might have felt a little goodwill myself. A shame.

Fortunately, whatever the explanation had been, he had somehow kept his seat as director. If it had truly been an affair, the chairman's temperament would have had him fired on the spot. There must have been some misunderstanding.

"Anyway, I've talked too long. Let's get to the point. Answer as if these are questions flying at you in the audit."

"Yes, Director."

The PR director's eyes turned serious, and he began.

"Your company emphasizes ESG... and yet there was a recent violation of environmental standards at an overseas plant, wasn't there? Isn't that greenwashing? Just talking a good game while pretending to be eco-friendly."

He didn't name the country or the plant, but the cases that could be called out as greenwashing unfolded in my head all the same. Every last page of it was already in there, with nothing missing.

The files unspooled.

"You are referring to the cosmetics plant in Malaysia, completed three years ago. At the time of construction, it did not violate environmental standards. We have since confirmed that it conflicts with the recently revised standards, and as I understand it, we are fortunately still within the period for corrective recommendations."

The PR director looked faintly surprised. He clearly hadn't expected me to answer that well. White Lines began to multiply above his head, one and then another. Even so, he kept his composure and pressed on.

"Can you actually correct it within that period? Pungjeon Cosmetics has been in the red lately, hasn't it? Where is that money coming from?"

The files turned again.

"We can divert about 2.5 percent from R&D and invest it in facilities so that we meet the environmental standards."

"Divert it from R&D? Is that even possible?"

"Yes. Within the R&D budget there is a share devoted to basic and long-term projects that are not directly tied to product performance. Reclassify a portion of that as R&D for environmentally responsive process improvement, and it is done."

"Isn't that just changing the name?"

"Emissions-reduction equipment and other environmentally responsive process improvements are ESG investment, but they are also improvements in process efficiency. As I understand it, Europe already recognizes environmentally responsive process improvement as R&D."

The PR director, who had gone briefly quiet, opened his mouth.

"...And Finance is just going to sit still for that?"

This one wasn't for the audit. It was a real question, from an executive.

"That is why I set the ratio at 2.5 percent. Back when ethical management was the trend, there is a record of Finance peeling more than 3 percent off R&D costs to support the Ethical Management Division. They say that is their internal ceiling."

"...Other risks?"

"This quarter was going to turn negative anyway. A large number of employees are hitting mandatory retirement, so we are paying out a lump of severance all at once. Burying it all together this quarter looks cleaner."

The PR director said nothing.

He stared at me, dazed. Above his head, dozens of White Lines that had appeared at some point were surging wildly.