Surviving Restructuring

Chapter 147. Negotiation (1)

As soon as Eun-Ho arrived at work, he dropped a thick stack of papers onto the desk.

“What’s this?” the blond supervisor, Guk, asked.

“Please gather all the researchers on this list,” Eun-Ho replied.

Nine names were printed in bold black ink across the white paper. Some were familiar, and some weren’t, but finding the common thread wasn’t difficult. After all, each of them was a rising young researcher who’d recently made a name at the Research Center.

Guk was dumbfounded. “Huh?”

Why would a rookie want to gather some perfectly fine researchers first thing in the morning, especially when he’d be leaving the department tomorrow?

“I should at least ask why,” said Guk.

Eun-Ho, with a calm shrug, replied right away, “Well, they’ve falsified their research results.”

“Falsified results? What the hell are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Eun-Ho tapped lightly on the stack of papers. “This document contains the evidence. The first page lists their names, and the second is a summary. So please take a look.”

“What nonsense... Ha. Even if that’s true, how exactly did you find out?”

“I apologize for not reporting it sooner,” Eun-Ho said. “But after you took the culprit away yesterday, I stayed behind to secure the scene. While checking the lab, I found two copies of a report.”

“From Iro’s lab, you mean?”

Eun-Ho’s eyes were steady and his voice was composed. He didn’t over-explain or try to persuade but just presented the facts. “Yes. We analyzed them ourselves and confirmed that the data was clearly manipulated.”

They’d only known each other for two days, but Guk instinctively sensed that this wasn’t a bluff. However, the real problem was something else entirely.

“Are you admitting that you’ve leaked documents from another department without authorization?” Guk’s voice dropped, cold and heavy.

“There were no labels like Confidential or External Release Prohibited,” Eun-Ho replied, still calm. “But I believed this was something that had to be reported. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t just about the data breach. Guk’s disappointment came from something deeper, realizing he probably misjudged the kid.

Was he just another one blinded by ambition? Guk thought.

Skill was important, yes, but greed for success was never a virtue, especially not in a junior he was in charge of. There was nothing more unpleasant than cleaning up after someone whose ambition outweighed their ability. The thought alone made a sharp remark slip out before he could stop himself.

“So, you admit it was wrong, but you still want to file for an audit?” Guk said, his tone edged with disbelief.

“Yes,” Eun-Ho replied.

“As trainees still in OJT?”

“No.” Eun-Ho’s answer was firm. “I’d like you to file the audit request under your name, sir.”

That caught Guk off guard. He blinked, certain he’d misheard. “... What?”

“I kept wondering,” Eun-Ho continued quietly, “why did that researcher go so far yesterday? It must’ve been the despair of feeling left behind. But if all of this was manipulated, then he never had any reason to despair in the first place.”

What?

Guk’s brow furrowed deeply. He snapped. “Are you trying to justify a terrorist now?”

“I’m not defending him,” Eun-Ho said. “But it’s not fair for only one side to take the blame.”

Fairness...

It had been a long time since Guk heard that word that it left him speechless.

Then Eun-Ho said, “I’ll register the results under your name, sir.”

“... You’re serious?” Guk couldn’t believe his ears. He said incredulously, “If you do that, you gain nothing from this. So why go this far?”

As a two-day trainee, nobody would blame Eun-Ho for simply coasting until the end. Yet here he was, sticking his neck out for the audit department.

“Well... It’s not like I get nothing out of it,” Eun-Ho said with a faint smile.

Was it the satisfaction of catching corruption? Was he one of those people who were righteous by nature?

Guk was past disbelief and more in awe.

“Anyway, if you’re thankful, please put in a good word with the manager,” Eun-Ho added lightly, “a fair evaluation for the four of us would be nice.”

Guk let out a slow breath. “Evaluation... Fine. You have my word.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As the blood in his veins began to stir for the first time in ages, Guk stood up abruptly. “Are you sure these documents have evidence?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Eun-Ho replied.

“Then I’ll get started right away.” Guk moved like a runaway train, giving his order. “Assistant Manager, please review the materials.”

They requested the preliminary audit officer to verify the source and credibility of the evidence.

“Sir, please trace the movements of these employees,” Guk ordered. “A week’s worth of activity should be enough.”

Since every possible lead had to be uncovered, he also instructed the other departments to conduct a broad sweep for any related corruption. “Here’s the field dispatch request.”

Everything was set to move, ready to swoop in on the implicated researchers. All that was left was the manager’s final approval.

“Manager.”

From the moment Eun-Ho handed over the documents to now, barely two hours had passed. Thanks to Guk, who’d lived up to his reputation for efficiency, the entire process had advanced at a breathtaking pace.

“Hey, I just looked over the report and...” The manager fanned the papers in his hands, flipping through the pages. “Who put this together?”

“The rookies did,” Guk replied.

“No way. You’re serious?”

When Guk confirmed it, the manager frowned, appearing somewhere between skeptical and impressed.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Guk asked carefully.

The manager didn’t answer right away. Instead, he began turning the pages one by one.

“Look at this,” he said, tapping the report. “Every single piece of evidence is indexed and summarized.”

“They were pretty thorough,” Guk agreed.

“And this summary chart. Who made it?”

“That should be Lee Eun-Ho.”

“Lee Eun-Ho? That mouthy kid?”

Guk nodded silently.

The manager let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Ha! I knew it!”

“Sir?”

The manager sighed and shook his head. “No one in our department writes reports like this. They’re always too busy running around in the field to teach anyone how to do it properly.”

It was true. The Audit Bureau, especially the On-Site Inspection Department, prided themselves on fieldwork. The motto had always been: seeing for yourself is more important than reading a report. As a result, they’d also lost chances to highlight their results properly. Now, Guk understood perfectly why the manager seemed interested.

“To be honest,” the manager muttered, “this kid’s better than me.”

“Sir? Is that right?”

“It’s written so clearly that even a kid could understand it. That means he nailed the key points and knew how to lay them out.”

Coming from a manager who could bark orders all day but rarely hand out praise, it was shocking. In this department, aside from Guk who was known for being quick on his feet, most people got scolded more than they got thanked. Yet here the manager was, genuinely impressed.

“Make copies of this report and distribute them to the whole team,” the manager declared.

“Sir?” asked Guk.

“Tell them to study it!”

It was the first time Guk had ever seen the manager this satisfied. “Understood.”

“Good! We move right away! They might try to destroy the evidence, so we hit them in thirty minutes!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Move! Hurry up!”

Hearing the manager’s order, the entire office erupted in motion. Footsteps pounded, papers shuffled, and voices overlapped.

“Eun-Ho! Where did this data come from?”

“Ji-Woong, check this cost calculation with me!”

The rookies were being pulled left and right, their names echoing across the room.

“Eun-Ho!”

“Ji-Woong!”

...

The office that had been quiet moments ago now buzzed like a hive of activity. The new guys were completely overshadowing the old guard, which showed a total role reversal.

Guk grinned without realizing it.

“Is there something funny?” the manager asked, catching him mid-smile.

“Huh? Oh, no, sir. Not at all.”

Guk couldn’t help it. Having capable juniors who pulled their own weight and even brought in results was more than satisfying.

I knew it...

“Sir,” Guk began cautiously. He’d been meaning to say it for a while now.

However, before he could continue, the manager chuckled. “You want to keep the kid, don’t you?”

“... How did you know?”

“It’s written all over your face, you idiot.”

The manager gave him a light smack on the shoulder, still grinning. “Fine. It’s about time we take on a new recruit anyway.”

***

After the chaos died down, and the noisy crowd of employees finally dispersed, the office grew silent again. It was then that a faint blue glow appeared before Eun-Ho’s eyes.

Fwoosh—!

[Progress: 10/10]

[You have successfully defeated multiple corrupt superiors within the time limit.]

[You have completed the hidden trial of Project OJT.]

It seemed like the case was over. The staff of the Audit Bureau, who had rushed out like a tide, had likely taken care of those corrupt superiors in his stead.

[The Goddess’ Scales have been upgraded!]

[Please check the updated item description.]

“Let’s see what we’ve got...”

Just as he tried to inspect the newly strengthened Goddess’ Scales, hurried footsteps thundered down the hallway beyond the office door.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Then, the door shattered.

“What the hell?!”

“W-what’s your problem?!”

The heavy metal door had been blown apart, and standing in the ruined frame was the Center Director.

“Center Director?!”

“You came all the way here?!”

Her hair, pure white as snow, was neatly coiled atop her head. She wore layers of translucent robes that shimmered like silk veils, and in her hand was the fan that had become her signature. It was unmistakably the same Center Director, yet something about her was entirely different this time. Moreover, instead of her usual basilisk companion, she was flanked by several staff members.

“Jeon Do!” she declared, her clear voice ringing through the office, laced with fury.

“Center Director,” the manager said, stepping forward. His movements were steady, while his expression was resolute, as though prepared to shield everyone behind him. “Please, speak with me.”

The Center Director’s fan snapped open with a sharp flick. She said coldly, “I didn’t come here for a chat.”

“Then why—”

“We’re in the middle of a crucial project. What do you think you’re doing, dragging away all the researchers who are supposed to be in the lab?”

“We only arrested those who needed to be,” the manager replied firmly.

The Center Director frowned, her lashes lowering and lifting again, radiating killing intent. “Cease your investigation. Immediately!”

It wasn’t a request, but an absolute, final warning that resonated deep in everyone’s bones.

“The Center will handle its own matters internally,” she said.

“... I’m sorry, ma’am,” the manager said, unyielding. “But I can’t allow that.”

The Center Director’s gaze sharpened. “Even if it costs you your head?”

Swish—

The Center Director, Cheong Ryeon-Hwa, raised her fan. An invisible wave of murderous pressure flooded the room. Though her killing intent was aimed squarely at the manager, Eun-Ho went rigid. His hands tingled and his breath caught in his throat.

The others were no better. Each one was frozen, eyes locked on the Center Director’s poised hand. Knowing a single move would cost them their head, the air was heavy with tension.

This is just as I expected, Eun-Ho thought.

The spark he had lit had turned into a wildfire, threatening to consume everything. That was why he stepped forward.

“Center Director,” Eun-Ho said quietly.

The woman’s gaze flicked toward him. “Lee Eun-Ho?”

“If it isn’t too presumptuous...” He bowed slightly. “May I say something?”

***

[A Study on Central Nervous System Changes in Subjects Administered Methylphenidate-Class Reagents]

[Clinical Significance of Hemoglobinuria in Patients Administered Oral Split-Form Compounds]

While Ji-Woong had discovered the falsified data by examining the cost report attached at the end of the papers, Dmitri had been racking his brain just as hard. What they eventually uncovered was the true focus and the target of the research.

“It’s stimulant,” Dmitri said.

“Stimulant?” Ji-Woong repeated.

“Yes. Their research was on a potion designed to awaken the brain, to push the body beyond its natural limits. That’s what they were developing.”

[You have consumed the genius researcher’s awakening agent!]

[Your brain’s maximum potential has been unlocked!]

[Duration: 1 hour]

It was the very same potion Iro had completed, and the same one Eun-Ho had taken himself.

“The data is perfect. All that’s left is the clinical trial... Once we bring in Eun-Ho, it’ll be done. With this, we can make up for all our mistakes.”

Iro’s final potion was just awaiting its last clinical trial. However, before the results could ever be seen, Iro had fallen into Purgatory, leaving his work incomplete.

“I think I can help,” Eun-Ho said.

“What?!”

The words made everyone in the room froze.

“What are you sayin—” Guk started.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” the Center Director interrupted coolly, “but this is not the time. If you have something to say, come back later.”

Behind the Center Director, Guk frantically gestured for him to keep quiet. However, Eun-Ho ignored it.

“I understand this isn’t the best time,” Eun-Ho continued, “but the reason you’re here, Center Director, is because you’re worried the project might be halted. Am I right?”

Cheong Ryeon-Hwa’s elegant brow twitched.

“... That’s correct,” she admitted.

So that’s it.

For her to personally barge into the Audit Bureau meant this was no small matter. The project was far too important to risk being buried. In that case, the solution was simple. As long as the project succeeded while the corrupt researchers faced punishment, everyone’s interests would align.

The next moment, Eun-Ho reached into his pocket. He said vaguely, phrasing it in a way that only the Center Director could understand, “This is an item that I obtained earlier,”

Then he held out a small vial filled with pale pink liquid.

The Center Director’s eyes widened. “This is...”

[Genius Researcher’s Failed Awakening Agent (Strength Enhancer)]

- A potion designed to draw out the brain’s latent potential and double the user’s Strength.

- Created after years of research, but lacking sufficient data, the effect is weakened.

- Duration: approximately one minute.

It was one of the defective potions he had found in Iro’s lab. The moment the Center Director saw it, comprehension flickered across her face.

“The effect is the same,” Eun-Ho explained calmly. “Only the duration is shorter.”

“So what you’re saying is...”

“If you analyze this potion and fill in the missing data, you will be able to complete the project.”

The Center Director’s entourage broke into murmurs. The researchers from the Center passed the round vial among themselves, watching the pink liquid ripple inside.

This might work.It’s possible.

The tension that had filled the room just moments ago began to melt away. Excitement replaced anger, and the air buzzed with renewed hope.

The Center Director murmured under her breath, “... So that child, Iro... He really did succeed.”

Her expression softened for a moment. She seemed bittersweet and almost mournful. Well aware that he’d played a part in that sorrow, Eun-Ho waited silently.

Then, with a sharp snap, Cheong Ryeon-Hwa flicked her fan open, her composure restored. “You’re right. With this, we’ll be able to continue our research.”

She responded exactly as he’d expected. Therefore, Eun-Ho responded with the line he had prepared, “I’m glad I could be of help.”

He smiled with innocent, unassuming eyes, which was the same harmless look he had shown the blond supervisor earlier. However, the Center Director wasn’t so easily fooled.

“You wouldn’t offer help without expecting something in return,” she said coolly. “So tell me. What is it you want this time?”

She was indeed a true leader of her organization and not a naïve fool.

“Is it points you’re after? How much?” she asked.

Eun-Ho’s lips curved slightly.

“Well then,” he said softly, “How much do you already know?”