IBV 08

Chapter 8

Enthusiasts around the world all say the same thing:

“Getting hurt while doing a hobby is the worst! There’s no greater loss!”

Sihoon agreed wholeheartedly.
How could he enjoy things safely?
He pondered it every single day.

To say he enjoyed embezzling in Cheonyul meant that a single misstep could turn him into fish feed on the East Coast.

Especially since tracking magic was the enemy of embezzlers!
There were rogue guilds that could nullify tracking magic, and shady criminals in the back alleys who bought stolen goods…

But these methods were second-rate.
Eventually, traces always remained.

That was why Sihoon preferred the “throwing” method.

By throwing the physical item into another world, tracking magic evaporates. It becomes a perfect crime. The principle was similar to how conglomerates used remote islands as tax havens.

The downside was that you needed friends in the other world—but conveniently, the second tutorial had plenty of otherworldly friends.

Thanks to that, Sihoon’s inventory became abundant.

Inventory

Orc’s All-Purpose Hand Axe (new!)
Treeman’s Elixir (new!)
Berg’s Legacy (new!)
Destroyed Observer Jelly
Urkan’s Leather

Sihoon gifted a three-star sword to the Orc, and in return, the Orc gave the <All-Purpose Hand Axe>.
Sihoon gifted an elixir to Treeman, who returned it with the special potion.

There were also several spoils Sihoon had won directly, not through exchange.

Urkan’s Leather (Half)
Election funds ▶ Only half remained after being distributed as bribes to voters.

Berg’s Legacy
Acquired Berg’s item set:

Explosive Vest: Causes a powerful explosion in front, once.
Space Pirate Hood: Berg’s name engraved in gold. He was a promising figure in the outlaw world.

Destroyed Observer Jelly
Fragments left after the Observer’s eyes were destroyed.

On his very first day, his fortune had grown this much.
But he couldn’t relax. The world was still collapsing.

In his past life, it had taken him ten years to become the Chief Secretary, which alone earned him the admiration of office workers everywhere.

And then he ended up witnessing the world’s destruction.
This time, he had to get promoted even faster.

“Two years should be enough to reach Chief Secretary.”

The heirs’ dinner table.

Seochanil devoured steak as if it were nothing, barely chewing it—almost a spectacle.

“Eating with that guy ruins my appetite.”

His cousins shuddered, but Seochanil didn’t care. Swallowing bloody steak like a shark.

Seochanil liked things raw—not just food, but battles, values, even future plans. He always acted impulsively, making him perfect as a squad leader.

“The interpreters will start work tomorrow. I’ll assign Sihoon to Seochanil. Any objections?”

As usual, Seowusik wrapped up the situation.

Sihoon was a desirable interpreter, but still needed verification. With a Gold Ticket and lost supplies, the cost had been enormous. But he would generate billions in profit eventually.

So they had to monitor him carefully.

Cheonyul always attracted industrial spies, and it also sent spies of its own.

Among these new hires, there would surely be an industrial spy, so they needed to weed them out. What if the spy was Sihoon?

There was no way to know.
Hence, the squad leader had to step in.

“Seochanil, you’re listening. I’m leaving this to you.”
“Ah~ don’t worry~. You’re just concerned he might be a snitch, right?”
“Exactly. Too perfect. Especially his character.”

Sihoon was excessively perfect, still untrustworthy.

“A genius interpreter, but painfully servile to us. Yet at the same time… he undermines colleagues to boost his own salary.”
“That nonsense caused the first interview to fail?”

Indeed. The first interview had been a disaster. Some finalists, intimidated by Sihoon, even gave up joining.

It was the first time since the company’s founding that someone had abandoned a large corporation due to colleague tyranny. Perhaps the first in Korea’s history.

“Understand his true intentions well.”
“But if his character is really rotten? Or purely intellectual? What if he wreaks havoc after joining?”

Hehe… the heirs laughed across the table.

“If he’s talented but twisted, he’s the perfect servant. He’ll squeeze the other slaves all on his own.”

They trusted Seochanil. His instincts were sharp.

“Seochanil, your intuition may not earn money, but it works for people. Observe Sihoon’s personality—”
“Yeah, yeah! I’ll see if he’s a bastard or just pretending! Five more steaks here!”

Seochanil was confident—a capable hunting dog.

“But wait, my warehouse already has a crazy dog, right?”
“The one with 30 years’ tenure, the damaged personality?”

The heirs grimaced. That warehouse had quite the reputation.

“Whatever! They can handle themselves!”

Seochanil stuffed steak into his mouth.

The next day.

Sihoon reported to the 41st floor.

It was Seochanil’s private warehouse. There were 13 such heir warehouses in the building—not 12, but 13.

Sihoon briefly remembered the unfortunate 13th heir, then erased the thought—no significance; he’d disappear soon enough.

The 41st floor warehouse was massive, like a Costco. The building’s space-warping magic made it so. Another blessing of the chairman’s connections.

“The chairman is impressive.”

To surpass someone like him, preparation was necessary. The stepping stone: Chief Secretary.

He set a self-imposed two-year limit.
If he had been a lightning-fast promotion in the past life, this time he planned to become a black hole, absorbing all achievements.

At that moment, chaos erupted on the 41st floor.

“You idiot! Do you call this work? Want me to gouge your eyes out? If you work like this, just leave the proposal!”

Vulgarity exploded from the warehouse. Memories surfaced.

“Ah… that was when he was in charge of the warehouse.”

Every warehouse had a Warehouse Keeper, responsible for interpreting and managing relics—a position very close to the heirs.

All Warehouse Keepers were notoriously picky; the 41st floor keeper was exceptionally so.

“You lot are hopeless! Gather in formation immediately!”

Roughly 40 interpreters scattered between the storage areas hurriedly assembled, tense and focused.

Sihoon felt nostalgic. It was like seeing his own newbie self.

—Or maybe not. He was a newbie now.

“Hurry up with the formation! If you’re late, deal with it yourselves!”

Formation: when superiors visit like inspecting troops; soldiers align to demonstrate discipline.

Wait… is this the military? No. It was far worse.

The Interpreter Crusher, nickname of the 41st-floor warehouse keeper, appeared.

A fierce three-headed hunting dog approached—Cerberus!

“…too fantastical,”

The keeper rode atop Cerberus—a middle-aged man with curly hair and gold-rimmed glasses, always wearing arm sleeves and a designer belt to cover his protruding belly.

The 41st-floor Interpreter Crusher: Manager Ma.

Interpreters lined up, and Manager Ma passed like a triumphant general.

Cerberus salivated, glaring at employees, who had to squeeze their eyes shut.

This was Cheonyul: a jungle of a black company. Employees building the empire like livestock.

Sihoon felt emotional. He wanted to destroy it all immediately.

“Who are you?”

Manager Ma directed his fury at Sihoon, clearly a performance to intimidate the newbie.

‘Manager Ma has obtained my information.’

Sihoon had joined after a strong call from the heirs. Jealous Ma had been waiting for this moment.

Cerberus also glared at Sihoon.

“Security team, doing nothing? Who let you in here? This is a confidential zone!”

Questions despite knowing his identity—these things always happened.

“I’m Sihoon.”
“……”

Sihoon wasn’t going to back down. A single crack in the dialogue sent Manager Ma into a momentary breakdown.

“You… you brat… aren’t you a newbie?!”
“Ah, yes. You knew already.”

The dialogue stuttered. Ma tensed his belly.

“One newbie today, and you should salute properly!”
“I am the new employee, Sihoon…”

Sihoon bowed.

“Ha! A newbie already broken! Welcome to hell. How’s it feel entering our company?”
“Hmm. Like returning home?”

41st-floor rules: follow Manager Ma’s methods.

Ma’s method: crush interpreters to extract results. Old-school brute-force methods. Fear and discipline bring achievements.

Results were decent; Ma didn’t care about the means. He used two muscular ex-gangster aides.

Violence was routine. The ex-gangsters flanked Sihoon.
It was unclear if he’d joined a mafia or a corporation. But that was black company life. Familiar, like black coffee.

Cerberus’s three heads drooled. Ordinary people would have panicked.

“Wow, your poodle’s amazing. Can I pet it?”
“Poodle? Are your eyes blind?”
“…I have eyes right here, don’t I? Hahaha, bad eyesight.”
“Not that! It’s a monster! It’d eat you!”
“Oh.”

Sihoon reached out.
Cerberus wasn’t a monster—just a remnant of Cheonyul’s bio-experiments, always angry with three heads.

“Oops.”

Cerberus backed away.

“Kng!?” “Keng…” “Grrr%&^$%”

The three heads screamed and fled, covering their eyes alternately with two front paws (six eyes, two paws).

“Sorry… my mistake…”

Sihoon withdrew. This was a familiar scene—animals feared him.

“Cute poodle.”
“……”

Manager Ma had to dismount Cerberus. Forty interpreters blinked in confusion.

What was this situation?
Ma was powerful, cruel, and the staff often had nightmares from him.

Authority was cracking.
Sihoon smiled like a newbie.

“How shall we proceed with work? I’m busy. Need to produce results from today.”
“Work? Sure. Learn from your seniors. Weekly report starts now.”

Ma aimed to crush Sihoon’s spirit, even using magic: the weekly report—a deadly metaphorical curse, like Avada Kedavra.

“Huh… sniff…”

A perfect target: a female employee with a red nose from holding back tears. Sihoon didn’t know her.

‘Will she quit soon?’

Otherwise, she’d become a shell of herself. Cheonyul trapped employees to prevent them from leaving. Even normal humans became broken.

“You there! Start your weekly report!”

The verbal abuse earlier was aimed at her.

“Weekly report documents, please.”
“…H-here they are!”

The thick folder she handed over was immediately used by Ma to smack her cheek. White papers flew everywhere.

Ma had excellent dramatic effect—like a live mise-en-scène.

“…uh…”

She could only mouth words.

“Continue the report.”
“45% achieved…”

Ma kicked her shin. Crack! The sound was unpleasant. She fell immediately, wincing—hell had its scenery.

“Our company is gender-equal! Interpret or die! Healers are idle downstairs! Should we all die today? Come out, those who didn’t achieve weekly results!”

Sihoon realized: to become Chief Secretary in two years, he couldn’t watch this musical.

“Manager Ma, impressive staging. Can I start work now?”
“…What? Ma?”
“It’s already D-699. As I said, first-day results. That’s enough watching.”

Ma smirked. Finally, Sihoon made a verbal slip. Now he could officially be tested.

“You dare call your heavenly boss by name? A newbie! Will you be forgiven?”

Sihoon’s shin got crushed to rhythm. Interpreters winced.

Even after the kicks, Sihoon didn’t fall. His shin bled through dress pants.

“If I’m in Seochanil’s warehouse, first I’ll handle that, then move to the next.”

He muttered to himself. Ma swallowed.

‘This guy… doesn’t feel pain?’

Usual methods failed. His equation was supposed to be correct—but wrong answers were just beginning.

Snatch! Sihoon grabbed Ma by the collar.

“W-what?! Let go!”

The aides didn’t intervene—they sensed extreme threat.

“Manager Ma, I will test your insight. A riddle. Fail, and I’ll make life difficult. Think carefully.”
“Crazy!”
“Why shouldn’t a first-day newbie slap a manager?”
“Slap?! Are you insane?!”
“Three seconds. 3, 2, 1.”
“You bastard! Let go!”
“Wrong. The answer: <Because you can’t become Chief Secretary>.”

Ma instinctively covered his face. He expected a slap, but the pain hit his abdomen instead.

“Oof!?”
“Face… tricked into body hook.”

Ma collapsed. His internal organs felt like vomiting.

“The liver isn’t protected by ribs; getting hit disrupts autonomic nerves. Haha.”
“Ugh… ooh…”
“It’s okay. You won’t die. I’ve collapsed often, so I know.”

Memories surfaced. Sihoon looked down at Ma.

“From now on, you’ll crawl as much as you like.”

In society: bosses can push newbies, but newbies can’t push bosses.
Why? Not age hierarchy, not violence, not fear—one reason only: can’t become Chief Secretary.

Most newbies never get near that level.