People ought to be clever. Why? Because that’s how you keep your body comfortable.
Gyeoul couldn’t control the corners of his mouth, which kept twitching up; he kept grinning. Even to himself it was hard to believe this brilliant plan had come out of his own head.
In Juhan had definitely told him to find out everything about In Seongje. Who he met, what he did—like a spy or an agent in a movie. Only then, he said, could Gyeoul restore the trust he’d lost.
Anyone could guess it, but Gyeoul had no knack for that sort of thing.
Don’t forget: Gyeoul wasn’t some all-purpose secretary who handled anything at a word the way they do in novels. He was an ordinary person.
But that didn’t mean he could sit on his hands and do nothing. If he didn’t bring back something, with In Juhan’s cantankerous nature there was no helping it. He wasn’t going to say, Next time, then, bring it later. The In Juhan Gyeoul knew was not the merciful type who gave someone a second chance. With his credibility already down, if he botched the work on top of that, the result was as plain as day.
That was when a method flashed through Gyeoul’s mind. It was this—
Run.
There was no other answer. So he even sketched out a concrete plan.
If I stow away, they’ll never catch me.
He’d head to the East Sea and stow away on a ship to Russia. From Russia he’d move into China and disappear among 1.3 billion people. If he held out for six months to a year, he figured they’d stop chasing. He wasn’t worth spending years of money and time to find.
Ah! Right, the thirty billion!
Correction. Maybe they’d chase him to the ends of the earth. He was the only one who knew about the ₩30 billion in slush funds, so the odds were much higher they’d hunt him down for dear life.
Just as the escape plan was dissolving, a new idea flashed—one that could satisfy both his need to stay alive and In Juhan’s goal of learning about In Seongje.
Knock, knock.
At the door to In Juhan’s office, Gyeoul straightened his clothes, knocked, and went in. In Seongje didn’t so much as lift his eyes from the monitor; whether he noticed Gyeoul enter or not was unclear.
“Um, Director….”
Even after all that prep, standing in front of In Juhan made him so tense he stuttered.
“Talk.”
Thankfully, the man didn’t spare him even a glance. It was better for Gyeoul to speak without meeting his eyes.
“I—I found out something… important….”
“Go on.”
“Yes! It’s about Team Leader In Seongje.”
Only then did In Juhan turn his head. Those eyes, cold and heavy, never got easier to face. Still, he had to say this.
“Team Leader In Seongje… has been meeting Vice Chairman In Taegyu much more often lately.”
“I thought you were going to say something. I already know that. That foxy old man seems to have chosen the In Seongje line.”
“…Oh, you knew….”
Gyeoul had said it knowing full well that In Taegyu was backing In Seongje. He told himself not to be disappointed that the man already knew. This was just the groundwork for the next report.
“If that’s the kind of talk it is, you can go.”
“Sorry? Ah… I had a hard time finding the company he wants to invest in….”
In a voice just barely loud enough to reach In Juhan’s ear, Gyeoul muttered to himself as he turned away. Bait, to hook him.
“Wait.”
As expected, In Juhan stopped him. He’d taken the bait.
“What did you find out? Invest?”
Gyeoul turned back and nodded.
“I—it’s something I heard in secret from a reliable source….”
A lie. There was no reliable source. He’d invented a phantom informant in case he was asked for the origin of the tip.
“Where, and in what, is he investing?”
“Uh… a place called MK Quantum….”
That was it. Gyeoul had decided to report on In Seongje using information he knew from the future. That way, In Juhan would be satisfied on his end, and Gyeoul could keep his life—a win-win.
“MK Quantum? Was there a company like that?”
“I—it’s something to do with artificial intelligence, I think….”
He’d already been worrying about how best to deliver the MK Quantum info; this might solve that problem in one go.
“MK Quantum….”
Tapping a finger on the desk, In Juhan fell into thought. He still seemed to doubt the reliability of the story. Or maybe it was harder to believe because it was coming from Gyeoul of all people.
“V—Vice Chairman In Taegyu is investing with him, too!”
“…Even that old man?”
He’d provided information better than a winning lottery number, but the problem was how much of it In Juhan would believe.
“And who exactly is this reliable source?”
Thankfully, that question was within the range of what Gyeoul had anticipated.
“I can’t say that! F—for the informant’s protection….”
Even if he named a source, he wouldn’t be believed anyway.
“Hah. How am I supposed to trust information from an informant you can’t even identify?”
A fair suspicion. Gyeoul knew his plan was a little flimsy. But the truth was, he hadn’t thought of anything better.
“Really… the informant’s identity is solid. You don’t have to believe me, but if… if Team Leader In Seongje invests in MK Quantum and makes a fortune…?”
In response, In Juhan said nothing. He just tapped the desk with his fingertips, thinking.
“Ah. There’s a way.”
When their eyes met again, all trace of hesitation had washed from In Juhan’s face. The smile that formed was ominous enough to give Gyeoul a bad feeling. One of those near sure-fire bad feelings.
“Do it together.”
“Pardon…? D—do what, exactly?”
“The investment. If Secretary Cha invests alongside, I think I could trust it.”
It wasn’t as if Gyeoul didn’t want to invest his own money. The problem was that with the balance in his account, they wouldn’t even take him. You needed to be putting in on the order of at least a billion won to get a foot in the door.
But a chance to invest in the goose that laid golden eggs?! There was no reason to refuse. Like most people, Gyeoul preferred worrying about having too much money to worrying about having too little.
“Y—yes! I—I’ll do it…!”
He had a hard time holding the corners of his mouth down. He already felt like a rich man.
Gyeoul worked late a lot. Handling the work of a whole secretary team alone left him short ten bodies. During business hours he shadowed In Juhan and couldn’t organize anything properly, so he chose to stay late of his own accord.
“Why are there so many reports….”
Of all a secretary’s tasks, the most time-consuming was consolidating the reports submitted to In Juhan. Each team uploaded reports helter-skelter; he had to sort them by project and attach any related materials or reports before the classification job was done.
Which meant he had to at least skim a mountain of reports. Otherwise he couldn’t answer when In Juhan suddenly asked about something.
Unfortunately, Gyeoul was thorough and slow with his hands, so anything he did took half a day.
Today too, after sending In Juhan home and working late, it was already past nine. Eyes burning, Gyeoul decided to leave the rest to tomorrow’s Cha Gyeoul and call it a night. He’d surely regret it tomorrow, but his energy was spent; there was no helping it.
When he turned out the office lights and stepped into the hall, the company felt unusually still tonight. The same empty corridor, but in the day some invisible vitality filled the space.
“…Huh?”
Taking the elevator down to the first floor, Gyeoul crossed the empty lobby—and his gaze snagged on a woman walking through. Strikingly long-limbed figure, chic outfit, a designer handbag to match. Long wavy hair, and a profile he knew.
She lifted her phone. Gyeoul knew her.
“Hello? Hey, Juhan.”
In Juhan’s girlfriend. He was sure—it was the woman he’d briefly encountered at the hotel last time.
And Gyeoul was puzzled.
Why… is she here…?
The Director had gone home long ago.