Surviving Restructuring

“You know the saying, a beautiful person leaves behind something beautiful wherever they go, right?” Min Yeo-Jin said.

“Min Yeo-Jin,” Eun-Ho replied flatly, “do you need to use the bathroom?”

That phrase was commonly plastered on restroom walls in Korea.

Yeo-Jin snapped. “No! That’s not it!”

For someone who called herself an internet expert, and whom everyone else called a fossilized veteran of idol communities, what she’d said sounded oddly empty. Still, they decided to let it slide for now.

Anyway, there was a reason Min Yeo-Jin had spouted that line.

“Words leave traces,” she said.

“That post isn’t even about them. What kind of trace could it possibly leave?” Swear-Master shot back.

Even if the story wasn’t autobiographical, traces were unavoidable.

“Hey, Swear-Master. Quiet,” Eun-Ho said.

“By the way, why are you still calling me Swear-Mas—”

“Should I keep going, or not?” Yeo-Jin asked.

“Go on,” said Eun-Ho.

After shooting the Swear-Master a sideways glance, Yeo-Jin rubbed at the tip of her chin and explained, “First of all, I’m not one hundred percent sure, but based on the writing style, I think the author is a woman.”

The first idea was that Employee A was a female.

“At the very least, this person’s online persona is female,” Eun-Ho agreed.

“Perso—what?” the Swear-Master asked.

“But how can you be so sure?” Eun-Ho asked. “It could just be a guy pretending to be a woman.”

Yeo-Jin shook her head firmly. “No, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“What isn’t?”

“Usually it goes too far in one direction. Either one becomes overly feminine or weirdly stiff. I’ve seen a lot of trolls, so I can tell.”

“Trolls?”

“There are tons of them. Seriously.”

Overly feminine or too stiff? I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, Eun-Ho thought.

Sol-Ah, Ye-Ji, and even Ji-Eun were nodding along as if it made sense. Maybe it wasn’t completely off base.

Fine. I’ll let that point pass, Eun-Ho thought.

“Next is the upload time. It’s quite consistent,” Yeo-Jin said.

“Upload times?” Eun-Ho echoed.

“What are you talking about? They’re all over the place,” Swear-Master objected.

Eun-Ho tilted his head in confusion as well. However, Yeo-Jin held up three fingers. “Twelve pm, six pm, or ten pm. It’s always one of those three. They repeat in a rotating pattern.”

“Huh?!”

Right, if I trace it backward from post number one hundred twelve, it’s six PM, ten PM, six PM, ten PM, noon, noon, six PM, ten PM, six PM, ten PM and so on.

“... You’re right,” Eun-Ho murmured.

“Yeah. It shifts once or twice in the middle, but overall it follows the same cycle.”

“Wow, Yeo-Jin, you’re amazing!”

“Our youngest finally did something useful!”

“It seems like they wrote one during lunchtime, dinnertime, and after evening self-study ends.”

“Huh?”

“Then, a high school student?”

“There’s no way!” Swear-Master shouted, voicing Eun-Ho’s exact thoughts.

Yeo-Jin just grinned mischievously and kept scrolling through the posts. “Relax. I’m kidding. Anyway, those times probably line up with their breaks or something.”

For a quick skim, it wasn’t a bad haul of information.

“All right, let’s split up and take a closer look,” Eun-Ho said.

If they combed through everything, something else was bound to turn up.

“Could the five of you reread the posts and analyze whether there’s anything that could hint at the author? Start from post one to one hundred twelve, and make sure you read the comments too,” Eun-Ho instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

“And the other ten, dig through each department’s schedules by time slot.”

After assigning tasks to everyone except one person, Eun-Ho added one last thing, “If you’ve got spare time, please sign the consent as well.”

“Got it, Hyungnim!”

“We need thumbprints too, right?”

“Ah, don’t worry about the thumbprint. Just do it roughly.”

That left only Min Yeo-Jin.

“What about me?” she asked. “Am I your assistant or something, Mister?”

“Let’s make up a story together,” Eun-Ho said.

“What?”

#SubmissionsTo #NONAME-505

Thankfully, that kind employee had already provided them with a contact point.

“We need a story to submit,” Eun-Ho explained.

“Oh, right!” Yeo-Jin stretched her arms overhead, fingers interlaced, like a cat waking from a nap. Then she flashed a sharp grin, her eyes gleaming. “Leave it to me.”

***

There was almost no trace of light in the room. The space was so bare, it felt unreal and deliberately constructed. At last, the dim candle that had barely been illuminating a pitch-black box lost its glow as well.

After confirming that, the settings were adjusted, and the Eye was opened.

[Send Messages - Enabled]

[Receive Messages - Enabled]

[The channel NONAME-505 has been opened.]

The Eye, trapped inside a completely dark box, was unable to see or record anything.

Pop.

Then, a screen flickered to life. The display was pitch-black, with nothing visible on it, but the channel owner was already busy.

[A new observer has joined!]

[A new observer has joined!]

[A new observer has joined!]

...

As if on cue, observers began pouring in. The channel owner had to stay alert, making sure no one foolishly exposed any personal information that could identify them.

After exchanging brief greetings and finishing a few basic settings, the channel owner watched the observers’ idle chatter scroll by.

[Observer#319928 looks around, saying they can’t see anything.]

A newbie?

One stood out immediately. They were obviously new because they said things like, “I can’t see anything,” “The display is just black,” or, “The signal seems to be cut.”

The channel owner didn’t bother worrying about it because the veterans would show up soon enough and explain everything.

If they just wait a bit...

[Observer#58221 says everything is working normally.]

[They added that there’s no audio either, so don’t get your hopes up.]

[Observer#12490 says it’s been a while since they’ve seen a newbie and welcomes them.]

[Observer#240831 says they’re all ears and want to hear the story.]

There you go.

Nodding along at the observers’ comments, the channel owner straightened their posture.

Well, we’ve got to hear out the newbie’s story.

Then they sent out a message to everyone.

[Notice!]

[Newbie has been selected.]

There were no real expectations, just plain courtesy. Since it was a new face after so long, the channel owner figured they’d listen as a form of audience management.

What the hell?!

What spilled from the newbie’s mouth was unexpectedly brutal.

It’s about an office couple, but the guy cheated with his direct supervising manager? And because of that, the woman lost the reward she was supposed to receive? And it turns out the guy was also involved with a VIP client on the side?!

It was the kind of spice that made one’s tongue go numb.

And she saw those two rolling around together with her own eyes while the manager was there too?! Good grief. This isn’t just a mess! This is another level of chaos.

[Observer#58221 grabs their head, asking why they had to see that in person!]

[Observer#124901 says just imagining it gives them goosebumps and rubs their arms!]

[Observer#240831 asks how many times they slapped them on the face!]

The crowd erupted over the fiery, choke-you-up story. The channel owner was no different, subtly urging them on.

[Notice!]

[So what happened next?]

Just as the channel owner waited anxiously for what would come next, the ground-shaking thud made the entire world tremble.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Damn it! Again?!

The pounding from above was someone calling for the channel owner.

Oh, come on!

If they didn’t go out now, who knew what kind of scene would unfold. Knowing that person all too well, the channel owner swallowed back tears and posted an announcement.

[Notice!]

[Ending stream due to personal circumstances.]

After a brief moment of hesitation, they added one more line.

[Newbie, please continue tomorrow at twelve.]

Puff.

As the stream ended, the channel owner thought that the next post should go all-in on something truly spicy for once.

***

The abrupt end left Min Yeo-Jin smacking her lips in disappointment. “Oh, it cut off.”

“Yeo-Jin,” Eun-Ho said.

“Yes?”

He almost told her to stop watching trashy melodramas but stopped himself. It wasn’t like she could keep watching even if she wanted to anymore.

Instead, Eun-Ho gave a hollow chuckle and said lightly, “Nothing. Good job.”

“Still, what do we do now? We didn’t really find anything. Should we wait until tomorrow for now?” Yeo-Jin asked.

“Let’s dig a little more. Everyone else is still busy.”

“Okay!”

Some team members were rereading the posts until their eyes practically popped out, while others took turns signing the consent. Seeing everyone working hard, it didn’t feel right for them to slack off just because they’d finished early.

Right on cue, Yeo-Jin found the channel information that Employee A had left behind. “Oh! There’s channel info here!”

- Owner: NONAME.

- Subscribers: 202,000.

- Created: Six months ago.

- Community Tab: Inactive.

“Huh?” Yeo-Jin tilted her head, muttering to herself, “This is kind of weird...”

Had she found something? Eun-Ho waited quietly, worried he would interrupt her train of thought.

A moment later, Yeo-Jin’s eyes widened and she pointed at the channel info. “Here! The channel was created six months ago!”

“So?” Eun-Ho asked.

“But the first post went up a year ago!”

Right. That’s strange, Eun-Ho thought.

“This one here. It’s called Employee A’s Survival Log. Looks like they take submissions about shitty bosses or bullshit trials and post them.”

“Employee A’s Survival Log?”

“Yeah. It’s been going on for over a year now. Holy shit, there are more than a hundred entries in the series.”

That was what Swear-Master had said when he first found out about this person.

“There are more than thirty posts from between one year ago and six months ago! So how were they collecting stories back then? Did they switch channels? But if the company caught on, wouldn’t they have shut it down entirely? And if not, why abandon existing subscribers just to start over?” Yeo-Jin fired off questions in rapid succession, her eyes sparkling. Then she crossed her arms and voiced her final suspicion. “Wait a second. Doesn’t this reek of fabrication?”

Fabrication? Meaning fake stories?

Eun-Ho couldn’t be certain, but it was suspicious.

“Yeo-Jin, could it be that they just wrote down things they heard from people around them?” Ji-Eun asked.

Eun-Ho answered in her place, “That’s too much to be secondhand.”

This person captured abuse within the Management Bureau, tyrannical supervisors and endless corruption in the Sales Department, and the brutal working conditions in the Operations Bureau. It wasn’t impossible, but not unless they were practically the system itself, watching everything firsthand.

“Wait.”

A scene suddenly flashed through Eun-Ho’s mind.

“What if they did see it firsthand?” Eun-Ho said slowly.

“Huh?”

“It’s not something they experienced, but something they saw through the Eye.”

“That’s impossible,” Yeo-Jin said immediately. “One person accessing and watching that many departments?”

There was a job that could see every Eye in the company, moved strictly by schedule.

“Think I’ve found it,” Eun-Ho said.

“Huh?”

“No way! How does that narrow anything down?”

Inside the Operations Bureau, there were four zones divided around the central watchtower. Among them was one sector where each person monitored hundreds of screens at once, endlessly inputting data.

“Between ten and eleven this morning, the Operations Bureau tried to intervene in Sector Thirteen’s trial. You know about that?”

“There was an error in the system! We were checking whether it was a bug or normal operation!”

They managed channels and monitored for abnormalities. Then, when something strange happened, they filed bug reports.

Bug Report

... Additionally, during a trial in Sector Thirteen, ROK District, a specific monster’s vitals surged abnormally. Cause unknown.

They even wrote reports and conducted follow-up monitoring.

“There’s only one place that comes to my mind,” Eun-Ho muttered. “The Operations Bureau.”

“Let’s go check,” he said aloud.

“What? Where are we going, and what are we checking?” Yeo-Jin asked.

“Tomorrow at twelve. We step out and see if there’s anyone leaving their seat to connect to an Eye.” He lightly tapped Yeo-Jin’s head, almost like a pat. “You did good work, Eun-Ho.”

Yeo-Jin clenched her fist in triumph. “Yes! I got praised!”

Ding!

At that moment, a notification chime rang out.

[Congratulations!]

[A Sub-trial, Obtain 100 Signatures, has been completed!]

[Please select your trial reward!]

How thoughtful, sending us off with a blessing, Eun-Ho thought.

Everyone leaned in, excitement bubbling as they read the message floating before them.

“The reward’s up!”

“What is it? What is it?”

“What the hell? We have to choose one?”

“They’re both good though...”

It didn’t take long for excitement to turn into trouble.

[Please select your trial reward!]

[Everyone’s Rebellious Aura]

[One’s Piercing Gaze]

When they pressed “view details,” they were able to check the descriptions.

[Everyone’s Rebellious Aura]

- Employees harboring rebellious intent toward the company become visible.

- Usable by all team members without restriction.

[One’s Piercing Gaze]

- Read the inner thoughts of a designated target for three seconds.

- Bound to a single team member and costs 50 team Benefit Points per use.

One was an ability everyone could use, while the other was an ability only one person could use.

“Fuck! We have to choose only one?”

Ha. What now?