Remembering Sisyphus (1)
Of course, shooting the monster dead with a gun didn't calm the chaos.
“Kyaaah—! It's murder! Call the police—!”
“W-was that really a gun just now?”
“Is this some kind of hidden camera prank?”
“Help! We're trapped here!”
Despite the pandemonium in the training room, the woman remained eerily composed.
“Okay, everyone, there was a brief disturbance! It was just the normal process of rooting out spies, so calm down and take your seats!”
It wasn't enough. The uproar wouldn't die down that easily.
“What do you mean? Someone died!”
Someone protested. The woman tilted her head.
“Huh, not that? Outsider sensibilities are hard to grasp. Maybe I've been working too much lately...”
She said it with the weary face of an overworked office drone—words that could have come from a top-tier lunatic.
“...What a pain.”
It almost sounded like she'd killed before.
...No, not almost.
Certainty hit me. She'd definitely killed someone before.
I swallowed hard.
This wasn't normal.
I stared at the pistol in her hand. At her slightly stiff expression. At the questionnaire crumpling in her other grip.
“Maybe I should just shoot them all...”
One wrong move, and that barrel might swing my way.
What should I do?
I glanced back.
A few people had kept their cool amid the noise. They'd sat down as she'd ordered.
...I slowly backed away and took my seat.
The woman smiled.
“As expected of an internal transfer. Quick on the uptake. Good—bonus point for you.”
I smiled wordlessly. Not because I felt like it, but to stay on her good side.
“But... it's still too noisy to start the training, don't you think, Sung-jin?”
Bang!—Before I could answer, she pulled the trigger.
“Kyaaak—!”
“It's a real gun! Not a prank!”
“W-we have to run!”
Her brow furrowed.
“Ugh, seriously... so annoying. You all made it this far—you should know better. Did you think getting into a big corp like this was easy? Guess I have to use force to make you listen.”
She growled like a race starter, aiming the barrel at the ceiling.
What happened next was obvious.
I clamped my hands over my ears.
Flames spat from the muzzle in bursts. Through my plugged ears, the shots sounded more like sharp pops than full bangs.
Then silence fell. Dead quiet.
I cautiously uncovered my ears. She grinned at me, stomped her foot with a thud!, and shouted.
“There, calmer now? We need to get on with training, so everyone sit down!”
Maybe it was the bizarre nonchalance, but people glanced around nervously and shuffled back to their seats.
The situation stabilized.
I was alone in the front row. The next row stayed empty too.
Sparse faces dotted the third row. The fourth was finally full.
The training room fell into heavy silence.
She beamed, pleased with the quiet, and pulled a radio from her belt.
“Third training room here. Send a cleanup team. Yeah, industrial spy.”
It didn't take long to figure out what that meant.
The door opened. Black-clad soldiers poured in like a tide.
Mirae Co., Ltd.'s special ops team, M-SWAT.
They'd supposedly been formed for HQ terror response, but clearly that wasn't their only job.
Cleanup was swift.
M-SWAT carted off the body in a body bag.
No one sat near the desk where it had been.
Only bloodstains marked that something had been there.
Finally, the mood turned solemn. The silence meant fear.
“Whew, took them long enough.”
From behind the podium, the woman chuckled.
Clap!
“Alright, shall we start the training?”
Field Division training began in the freezer atmosphere.
“Welcome to Mirae Co., Ltd.'s field staff orientation! I'm Kang Mi-young, Section Chief of Exploration Team 1, handling your training and evaluation today!”
Sparse applause trickled out. Mostly from those who'd stayed calm earlier.
“The company sees all of you who've made it this far as prime talent. Future pillars to lead us!”
I focused on her words, no clapping or cheering.
“But not everyone here can become field staff. We want only the best of the best—the absolute strongest.”
She flashed a creepy smile.
“So, what kind of talent delivers top, peak, ultimate performance?”
She fiddled with the podium, killing the lights.
The beam projector's glow sharpened.
Click. The PPT slid forward.
'Mirae Co., Ltd.'s Management Philosophy.'
“The answer lies in our company's management philosophy. Question: Does anyone know what it is? Right answer gets bonus points.”
I raised my hand. She added,
“Oh, excluding internal transfers. Too easy for you, right?”
I lowered it sheepishly. Someone in the back raised theirs. She pointed.
“Quick! You there, third row back—answer.”
I turned.
A scarred face. Muscular even under a suit. He stood.
“Maximum profit for societal contribution.”
“Correct! Name and position?”
His voice was low and heavy.
“Ko Kyung-min. No position yet. Freelancer background.”
...Freelancer?
“Ooh, freelancer! Scouted, huh? How much experience?”
“...About three years.”
“Three years! Not bad! Sit.”
Ko Kyung-min sat.
Training resumed.
“We're field staff, but we're all businessmen and businesswomen! That means we do business!”
A strange heat stirred in the room from then on.
“And what's most important in business?!”
The fervor came even from the troublemakers.
My instincts screamed. Something was about to happen.
“Boldness! Winning spirit! And always thinking profit! Every Mirae Co., Ltd. businessperson must keep that in mind!”
Kang Mi-young spread her arms wide in oratorical flair.
She looked like a stage actress now.
“Now, we begin Mirae Co., Ltd. Field Division suitability evaluation!”
Thunderous applause erupted—not sparse, but fervent cheers.
“Prove you have what it takes to survive and lead our company!”
I gritted my teeth without thinking.
It had already begun.
“Got the gist? Management philosophy. Man-age-ment phi-los-o-phy.”
Snap! She snapped her fingers.
The projector died. Darkness swallowed the room. Murmurs rose.
“Enjoy the show, everyone!”
And then.
Wooong—a horn blared.
Bap-bam! Trumpets blasted.
Frantic violins scraped.
Piano tinkled playfully: ding-dong-ding.
Finally.
Snap!
Lights flared.
In 20 minutes, the One Heart Philharmonic will perform in remembrance of the Gu Da-ri Concert Hall tragedy. Please take your seats.
Kang Mi-young gazed at the empty third training room and smiled.
“Wonder how many will survive this time...”
Quite a few of the new Field Division recruits were near-civilians, right?
Most would die. Like always. Well, business as usual.
If you can't prove your worth, you get eaten.
She collected the questionnaires from the podium, lost in thought.
The company's standards were still vague.
She'd thought that every time executing top-down 'training directives.'
But as a section chief, she could guess who'd survive, even if not who died.
“The scouted fixer will make it...”
First, bonus-point freelancer Ko Kyung-min.
Three years in this kill-or-be-killed industry meant solid skills.
Still, just entry-level for public hires.
Talent was a harsh judge. If he were real 'talent,' he'd already be with a corp, government, or library.
“The scrub one too, hmm, she'll survive.”
Next, the woman crushed under the balding monster from the killer question.
She was sharp.
She'd anticipated the room's events.
Even getting pinned was deliberate.
Fooled everyone. Even tried it on the instructor—her.
Two options: razor-sharp survival instinct, or spy from another faction. Kang Mi-young figured the latter.
Either way, no issue.
Mirae Co., Ltd.'s net seemed loose but never missed.
Finally... She pulled key questionnaires from the stack.
Name: Oh Sung-jin
Position: Staff
Specialty:Office Work
Plain words. The kind that'd die in ten seconds in an anomaly—civilian-level.
But he was an internal transfer.
Mirae Co., Ltd. was the most 'corporate' corp. No wasting on dead weight.
Reassigning someone thriving in a normal department to field work meant they belonged there.
Wasn't there a youngest-ever section chief from internal transfer?
The company would prove its eye again.
“Specialty: Office Work...”
Kang Mi-young poked Oh Sung-jin's specialty, activating her own: Clairvoyance.
“Interesting.”