The office remodeling was progressing smoothly.
Thanks to Deputy Director Yoo Eunha's help, all the orders were placed in a single day. The construction itself was scheduled to be completed within a week.
Of course, it wasn't as if I'd dumped all the work on Yoo and just sat around.
In the mornings, I supervised the construction. In the afternoons, I focused on preparing the proposals we would soon be sending out.
Designing the proposal itself was a major task—but there was something that had to be done first.
"First comes building the distribution list."
Reaching out to acquaintances I'd met through work was a given. On top of that, I planned to distribute materials to university alumni I knew who were working in related industries.
AlumLinkX.
A business networking platform exclusively for university alumni. As the name implied, it was a channel that allowed me to contact professionals who had graduated from the same university as I had.
Most office workers were registered by default. If you weren't, your alumni would call and nag you until you signed up.
That's why, in moments like this—when you actually needed to leverage school ties—it was incredibly useful.
"There's a reason academic ties get lumped together with regional and blood ties."
I searched for alumni from Hankuk University who'd attended school during my time there.
From that pool, I filtered out people I'd met at least once, then narrowed it down further to those currently working at companies that might plausibly be interested.
Thirty-seven people in total.
Back when I was an energetic college student, I'd thought I was fairly well-connected—but seeing the number laid out like this, it wasn't all that many.
"But numbers aren't what matter."
No matter how many names you had, it was meaningless if you couldn't spark interest.
How many of them would seriously look at my proposal depended entirely on me. I needed to make sure at least one or two responded with genuine interest.
IntelliOn's core technology was advertising and marketing tech.
That meant it had to have the power to make people read—even if it was spam. Otherwise, we'd be mocked for claiming to do marketing while failing to get anyone to even open a sales document.
"Alright. The list is done."
Next came creating the materials to send to these people.
In my mind, preparing distribution materials involved three stages.
First: a concise, eye-catching title that grabbed attention instantly.
Second: a one-pager—a single page summarizing only the core points.
Third: the full proposal, to be sent to those who read the one-pager and wanted details.
Of course, the most important part was the final proposal—but if you couldn't pass the first and second stages, no one would ever read it.
If someone read even the one-pager, they'd be able to roughly gauge its value. There was no way smart people wouldn't recognize what I'd seen at a glance.
Which meant the title mattered most.
A single line had to deliver impact. Enough impact that it wouldn't be dismissed as spam—that it would be clicked with focus and curiosity.
"Impact… impact, huh…"
I stared at the monitor, thinking for a long time.
In the end, I couldn't decide—and postponed it for later.
Creating the initial draft of the materials required cooperation from IntelliOn's engineers.
I was from the humanities. I didn't fully understand every algorithm behind the technology.
That meant I had to constantly consult with CEO Cha Yoonjung while working on the materials.
The problem was timing.
Since I worked late into the afternoon, I often ended up contacting her at night.
Even using messenger apps, reaching out so late made me feel uneasy. But—
"Our employees are basically nocturnal anyway. Honestly, it's better if you contact us at night or even at dawn."
Thankfully, late-night messages didn't seem to be an issue.
"Then what about when you met me? That was during the day—were you okay?"
"When I meet you, Director… even if I've been up all night, I get excited and don't really feel tired…"
…So daytime wasn't a problem either.
"Cheers!"
A few days later, in the evening, at a casual tavern.
I was sitting with Deputy Director Yoo Eunha and Manager Hwang Juyeon.
It was a celebration for the two of them successfully (and questionably) resigning.
"You both really went through a lot."
"Oh, seriously."
"You wouldn't believe it, Director. After you left, we suffered so much."
They downed their soju in one go and immediately started venting, as if they'd been waiting for the chance.
I hadn't seen it myself, but I could easily imagine how hard things must've been.
I—the core of the project—had suddenly resigned, and the project was handed over to the embodiment of incompetence, Assistant Manager Park. Then Park caused a disaster, and the project collapsed.
Cleaning up that mess fell squarely on Yoo Eunha.
After that, Hwang Juyeon gathered what little evidence there was and dug up the sexual harassment issue.
Even that had been difficult. The only evidence was testimony from a single employee in another department—and even that was borderline in terms of legal strength.
If the issue were raised formally, it could've turned into a long, drawn-out lawsuit.
Instead of going public, it all ended with the two of them resigning.
"I'm sorry. I'll treat today—so eat as much as you want."
"You should eat too, Director."
"Ah, thanks."
Manager Hwang Juyeon refilled my glass.
In the past, I might've been cautious about even something like this—but now, there was no need. I took the bottle and filled their glasses in return.
"By the way, Director. You invited only Deputy Director Yoo to the new office, didn't you? Leaving me out."
"Ah, that."
She was referring to when I'd called Yoo Eunha to the office earlier.
Apparently, Yoo had told her—and judging by her tone, she'd probably shared some of the more private details too.
Do female coworkers usually talk about everything like that? I broke into a sweat and hurried to explain.
"I had something to ask Deputy Director Yoo. It's hard for me alone to judge what the office needs."
"You could've called me too. I would've done a good job."
"No need to feel left out. You'll be getting called plenty from now on too."
"Oh? I'm looking forward to that."
At my words, Manager Hwang's expression brightened instantly.
Of course, I'd meant it in a professional sense—but she seemed to have taken it differently.
Hmm. Deputy Director Yoo was giving me a strange look.
I quickly changed the subject.
"So how's the company? Think the Strategic Planning Team will run fine without you two?"
"It'll probably be absorbed into the Management Support Team. Maybe as a 'Strategic Planning Section' under them?"
So absorption instead of replacement.
"I see. I guess sudden hiring would've been difficult."
"They couldn't even fill Manager Hwang's position. You know how companies are."
Deputy Director Yoo drained her glass, clearly harboring a lot of pent-up resentment.
The head of the Management Support Team—where Strategic Planning would be absorbed—was no ordinary person either. I wondered if the incompetent former team leader and the harassing assistant manager would adapt properly.
Hopefully, they wouldn't just end up as useless burdens.
"Alright, enough boring talk—let's drink more."
Manager Hwang refilled my glass again. Her pace was faster than before.
"Manager Hwang, aren't you going a bit hard?"
"What does it matter? I don't have to worry about going to work tomorrow."
"Well… that's true."
At that, I had no choice but to nod.
Going to work—the eternal shackle of office workers.
This was a celebration of breaking free from that yoke. Of course we had to drink.
"Seriously, though—thank you. Both of you. For trusting me and following me."
After emptying my glass again, I spoke more seriously.
It might've been a bit stiff for a celebration, but it was something I really wanted to say.
"Honestly, the future isn't guaranteed. Depending on what we do, we could succeed big—or fail completely."
It hurt that I couldn't promise a shining future to the people who'd trusted me enough to follow.
But that made me even more grateful that they followed me knowing that.
"Still, I'll make sure you don't regret this choice. I'll make you think it was the right decision to leave."
Deputy Director Yoo refilled my glass again.
…This pace was too fast.
"You mean it, right? We really left believing in you alone, Director."
"You have to take responsibility for us."
"Of course. I'll take responsibility."
There's no word more irresponsible than "I'll take responsibility."
But here, I had to show that level of resolve. Even if I failed, I'd fail alone. Even if I starved, I'd still pay their salaries.
"Then we'll trust you and follow you too."
Deputy Director Yoo clinked her glass against mine.
Behind her gentle smile was unwavering trust—and the fact that it was directed at me made me happier than anything else.
"Thank you, Deputy Director Yoo."
I downed my glass again.
As soon as it was empty, Manager Hwang refilled it.
"If I end up never getting married because of this, you'll take responsibility then too, right?"
"Well… these days, living alone isn't so bad, is it? It's not like you have to get married."
"Hey!"
Manager Hwang booed my attempt to dodge responsibility.
Still, with Deputy Director Yoo sitting right there, I couldn't make careless promises—even as a joke.
And honestly, I wasn't thinking about marriage at all right now.
Something was strange.
We'd been drinking at roughly the same pace… yet I felt like I was the only one getting seriously drunk.
The two of them looked perfectly fine.
I'd been startled earlier when I looked in the bathroom mirror—my face was much redder than I'd expected.
I wasn't someone who drank heavily. I hated making mistakes while drunk. And it wasn't like I was especially bad at alcohol either—I rarely drank enough to turn red.
But today, I'd clearly had too much. My face wasn't the only issue—my vision was starting to lose focus too.
"…Were these two always this good at drinking?"
"What are you talking about? We've barely had anything."
"Barely had anything…?"
There were six empty soju bottles. I was pretty sure I'd drunk more than half of them.
And it had only been about an hour since we started. Definitely a fast pace.
Hmm. It felt like I was in a 2-on-1 drinking match.
Whenever my glass emptied, Deputy Director Yoo would refill it and drink with me. Then, when it emptied again, Manager Hwang would refill it and drink with me.
Almost like they were working together to get me drunk…
"…Huh?!"
That was when it hit me.
This wasn't just my imagination.
They really were deliberately getting me drunk.
What are they planning to do once I'm drunk? crossed my mind—but the thought of being intoxicated against my will wasn't something I could take lightly.
"Uh—yeah, I should get going. I've had way too much. Whoa."
This should be enough for them too. I stood up with the bill.
"You're leaving already?"
"What about a second round?"
They didn't seem satisfied at all. They stood up with me, showing no sign of wanting to part ways.
"At this hour, going somewhere else isn't a good idea. The streets are dangerous at night…"
"Right, Director. Since you're drunk, why don't you rest a bit before leaving?"
Manager Hwang supported my unsteady steps.
For "support," the distance was way too close…
"Huh? N-no, resting should be done at home. Haha, I'm fine. It's not that bad."
"Then how about a second round at your place, Director?"
This time, Deputy Director Yoo linked arms with me from the other side—an approach full of intent.
"That sounds great! Let's go to Director's place!"
Manager Hwang agreed enthusiastically.
At that moment, I got a bad feeling.
These two were definitely plotting something—with me in the middle.
"T-That's… my place is a mess, you know. Inviting people over suddenly would be awkward. And you just quit your jobs—you shouldn't let yourselves go too much, right? We're starting work together soon."
"Tch."
I swear I heard someone click their tongue.
No way. I must've imagined it.
"Anyway, I'm heading out. You two go home safely. Even if you go for a second round, don't stay out too late, alright?"
After paying, I practically fled into a taxi in front of the bar.
…The two of them left behind were staring after me with expressions like predators who'd just lost their prey.