Chapter 249. The Employee’s Perspective (6)

“What is going on right now? What happens to the trial?”

“What do you mean, what happens?” someone muttered from the sidelines. “All charges were dismissed. It’s a not guilty verdict.”

“Unbelievable.”

The Audit Bureau officials remained seated, glancing nervously at the director. Some were stunned, some were furious, and others simply hollowed out by the absurdity of it all.

Eun-Ho, however, paid them no mind.

Ji-Woong had already reverted from his prison uniform back into his usual clothes. “Hyung!”

Seemingly overjoyed by the decreased weight, he rushed forward and began pushing Eun-Ho toward the exit.

“How did you do that earlier?” Ji-Woong asked breathlessly.

“Do what?”

“That... you know.” Ji-Woong darted a wary glance at the Audit officials and the witness before lowering his voice. “When did you memorize the personnel regulations? And those earrings! What were those about? You don’t actually know that guy, right? He looked shady as hell.”

“I did some digging,” Eun-Ho replied casually.

Ji-Woong blinked, tilting his head as if asking what kind of digging that could possibly mean. “Digging?”

Eun-Ho explained simply, “If you think from the chairman’s perspective...”

The chairman’s closest aide, the chief secretary, had sided with Eun-Ho in direct opposition to his will. In that case, the Chairman’s Office would need to distance itself, meaning the narrative would have to shift from an official stance to a personal failing. There were only two viable approaches: either the secretary had manipulated things voluntarily in exchange for bribes, or she had been coerced.

“At first, it was coercion, right?” Ji-Woong said. “She was tricked into it.”

“That’s right.”

“Then why did the chairman go with the bribery angle?”

To Ji-Woong, it made no sense. Why would the chairman discard his right hand so quickly?

“Because he couldn’t trust her anymore,” Eun-Ho said.

“What?”

“If the chairman claimed coercion, but the secretary appeared and denied it, his credibility would hit rock bottom.”

Once that happened, there would be no recovery. Even if the chairman later proved himself right, the damage would already be done. The Chairman’s Office would be seen as liars or fools who couldn’t even control their own inner circle.

Eun-Ho added, “Besides, there’s no guarantee someone who was blackmailed once won’t be blackmailed again.”

“Ah...”

It didn’t matter whether the chief secretary had defected voluntarily or under duress. She had become a liability and was therefore discarded.

“Did that woman anticipate all this before coming forward?” Ji-Woong asked.

“Something like that.” In truth, Eun-Ho had led her to that conclusion himself. “But I expected they’d try to make a move, so I investigated in advance.”

Thanks to the secretary’s information about the directors, he had time to prepare.

“You really did all that?”

“In a game full of schemes, you prepare to win by being more meticulous and more ruthless,” Eun-Ho said calmly, listing the criteria as if checking items off a ledger. “Someone close enough to the secretary to give false testimony. Someone with a high enough position to persuade the public. Quick-witted. Eloquent.”

“Huh?” Ji-Woong’s eyes widened.

“There was exactly one.”

Ji-Woong followed Eun-Ho’s gaze toward the direction the deputy chief had been dragged away. “You mean, the witness?”

“Wow...” He even clapped softly in admiration. “Hyung, you’re seriously amazing.”

Eun-Ho turned his head, slightly embarrassed by the thumbs-up that followed. “That’s enough.”

In truth, everything up to that point had merely been a hypothesis formed in his own mind. What turned speculation into a weapon had been something else entirely.

(Man) Ju Gwang

Direct line under the first director. Focused on sensational content. Performance ranks near the top.

Connection with the chairman’s secretary’s office. Collects information in advance.

It was the X-file he had obtained from Cho Bok’s office. Above all, the one who had dug up the deputy chief’s weaknesses was Sarah, whom Eun-Ho had planted in the Personnel Bureau.

I should buy her a meal, he thought briefly. Then, another thought struck him. But if we’re seen together, I won’t be able to use her as an informant anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low whistle from Ji-Woong. “Seems like my sister is really into smart guys.”

“Your sister? Ji-Eun?”

“Yeah. Last time she said—aaaagh!” Before Ji-Woong could finish talking, a woman tackled him from behind. “Kuk! What are you doing?!”

Despite her slender frame, Ji-Eun exerted enough force to turn Ji-Woong’s face bright red.

“Eun-Ho, are you alright?” she asked anxiously.

Ji-Woong choked. “Why don’t you ask me that?!”

“You look perfectly fine if you’re still running your mouth,” she shot back.

After glaring at her brother, she turned back to Eun-Ho, worry evident in her eyes. “Let me see your hands. Aren’t your palms scraped?”

“I’m fine,” Eun-Ho assured her.

“Hyuuungnim!”

The rest of the team came rushing into the courtroom, apparently unable to sit still any longer.

“Mister!”

“Man, I thought I was going to die from nerves!”

“Young Man! You okay? When that rope dropped from the ceiling, my heart nearly stopped!”

Even though they tried to lower their voices, the commotion drew the attention of the Audit Bureau. The officials stopped whispering among themselves and stared.

“This place is dangerous,” Eun-Ho said quietly. “Please wait outside.”

“Right, right!”

He began guiding the team toward the exit.

Thuuud—!

Just then, the massive courtroom doors slammed shut.

“What the hell?”

“Huh? Who closed it?”

It felt deliberate, as though the system was saying entry was free but exit was not.

Eun-Ho exhaled slowly.

So that’s how you want to play it?

***

Clank—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“What the hell is this? Open the door!”

“The trial’s over!”

Seemingly flustered by the sudden turn of events, the team members pounded against the sealed exit. Amid the commotion, the director of the Audit Bureau approached, flanked by two shadow-like aides in suits.

“This is bullshit. What kind of kangaroo court—” Swear-Master began but was interrupted.

“Lee Eun-Ho.” The director’s heavy voice cut through the noisy courtroom like a shell fired across a battlefield. “I’ve just received new information.”

New information, Eun-Ho repeated inwardly.

There was no way to know what kind of explosive that shell carried until it detonated.

“Since we’re both pressed for time,” the director continued, “I’ll ask one more thing while we’re here.”

Eun-Ho’s gaze shifted toward the gavel floating upright in the center of the courtroom.

“Oh,” he replied. “I also have unfinished business myself.”

“Unfinished business?”

“Please. You first.”

The director swallowed an incredulous sigh. “Team Leader Eun-Ho of the Labor-Management Cooperation Team.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve received a report that you arbitrarily summoned contract workers who were assigned to Sector Thirteen to headquarters.”

“Ah.”

So that’s it? He’s going to cling to that?

The team behind Eun-Ho stirred uneasily. No one spoke, but their eyes wavered.

“This report comes from the Operations Bureau,” the director added.

He flicked his hand, and a message window appeared in midair.

[Signal has been detected]

[Monster rampage observed in Sector Thirteen.]

[There is a risk of escalation to disaster-level phenomenon.]

“They say if this incident disrupts the balance, the purification process in Sector Thirteen may fail,” said the director.

Purification?

Eun-Ho remembered the warning.

“They said that once the restructuring process ends, black rain would fall. Rain that corrodes civilization and rewinds anything alive.”

It was not a metaphor, but an essential step in the company’s restructuring.

“If that happens,” the director continued, “even if you sacrifice your life and everyone else’s here, you won’t be able to take responsibility.”

A heavy silence fell after the director’s threat. The next moment, a stone was thrown into troubled water that was already rippling.

“Violation of the Earth Security Act is a grave crime,” said the director.

“Fuck that! What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Swear-Master shouted.

“Yeah! The trial’s already over!”

The director snapped. “How dare you run your mouths so recklessly in front of me!”

The Earth Security Act was said to stand above the personnel regulations, which was akin to a constitution that upheld the company itself. The penalties previously sought for embezzlement and bribery had been partial immolation and indefinite hanging. If those were the punishments for lesser charges, then what kind of sentence awaited someone accused under something as grand as the Earth Security Act?

I can’t even imagine, Eun-Ho thought.

However, he stepped away from the group and asked calmly, “Are you certain?”

The director, who towered over him by a full head, frowned deeply. “Certain about what?”

“You said there is a risk of escalation to a disaster-level phenomenon.”

“And?”

“That means it hasn’t escalated yet,” Eun-Ho replied. “Only that there’s a possibility it might.”

The director twisted his face into a crooked smile. “You’re nitpicking over wording.”

Eun-Ho had not spoken merely to play word games. His gaze drifted instead toward the center of the courtroom.

There, floating alone in midair, was the gavel. It had caught his eyes from the moment he had stepped into the courtroom.

The Ferry Man from the Management Bureau had warned him.

Ferry Man: Beware the wooden staff.

That gavel, clearly carved from wood, fit the description perfectly.

“So, let’s take a look,” said Eun-Ho quietly.

“What?”

The Ferry Man had claimed that they had already arranged things and opened a small path of escape in advance. Eun-Ho decided to trust it.

“I’ll need to see it with my own eyes,” Eun-Ho said.

“See what?!” the director asked irritably.

“If a signal has been detected, then the exact location must have been identified as well.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Request that the Operations Bureau send an Eye.”

Of course, that didn’t mean Eun-Ho trusted the observer who had been watching the restructuring process from the beginning. They were not on such friendly terms. However, the information about the Eight Heavens had already proven accurate once. That was reason enough to trust the Ferry Man one more time.

The director sneered. “You’re awfully confident.”

“I’d appreciate it if you saw it as caution,” Eun-Ho replied calmly.

The director narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see if you’re still so confident after you’ve seen it.”

Fwoosh—!

A massive screen appeared in the center of the courtroom.

“Damn it, it’s so dark I can’t see a thing,” Swear-Master muttered.

The pitch-black display slowly brightened. Like eyes adjusting to sudden darkness, vague silhouettes began to emerge one by one.

“Is that Earth?”

The ruined city no longer resembled a cradle of life. The remnants of buildings were buried beneath thick vegetation, barely recognizable. Even that vegetation had turned black, rotting away into decay. It seemed like a world returning to absolute nothingness. Something was scattered throughout the landscape.

“There!”

At first glance, it looked like a volcano, with bright red lava flowing down its slopes and hardened basalt forming its base. However, it was not lava, but a river of blood.

“A-are those bodies?”

The black shapes beneath it were not basalt, but the decaying corpses of monsters, rotting beneath the black rain. Every part had been severed cleanly and scattered about. The sheer number of carcasses piled together made it easy to mistake them for a mountain of rock.

Eun-Ho’s eyes sharpened. There was no rampaging horde, only what remained of them. Moreover, they had not been cut down by swords nor pierced by spears. Every surface was clean, with no jagged tearing nor chaotic damage. Each body part had been separated with surgical precision.

“They’ve been sliced apart by body parts.”

Wait. By body part? Eun-Ho thought.

Eun-Ho paused. He had seen something like this before.

A faint notification surfaced in his memory.

[The Ferry Man from the Bureau of Management is attempting a private chat.]

So the Ferry Man did this?

A quiet breath escaped him. Help had arrived from an entirely unexpected place.

Ji-Eun, sharp-eyed as ever, noticed something odd in the scene and met his gaze. “Hmm?”

“What is it, Noonim?” Jae-Hyuk asked.

She quickly shook her head. “Nothing,”

Eun-Ho made a mental note that he would repay that favor after resolving this first.

“Well?” Eun-Ho said aloud, turning back to the director. “It doesn’t appear to be a problem.”

“T-that can’t be!”

The two suited aides beside the director began sweating visibly.

“Did the Operations Bureau feed us false information?! Or did they pull some trick while we weren’t looking—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Eun-Ho pounded on the sealed doors. “You do realize we’ve been locked in here this entire time?”

The aides’ faces went pale.

“W-we’ll investigate immediately, Director!”

“Perhaps we should conclude this trial first—”

“Wait, I object,” said Eun-Ho.

He was not about to let it end so conveniently.

“You were acquitted! What objection could you possibly have?!”

“We’ll pretend that additional charge never existed, so step back!”

You may open a trial at your convenience, but ending it is up to me.

“It began at 2:00 PM and it’s now 2:42 PM,” Eun-Ho replied calmly, glancing at the clock. “I will be exercising my right to claim litigation costs.”

“What?!”

“Absurd! What costs could you possibly have incurred?!”

“This is a mockery to the Audit Bureau!”

Chairs scraped violently against the floor as officials leaped to their feet. Their faces flushed red as they raised their voices in a chaotic uproar.

Eun-Ho recited recently, “In the case of a defendant acquitted of all charges, costs incurred for witness appearances, clerical fees for preparing legal documents, and—”

“There were no witnesses, and you wrote the documents yourself!”

“—attorney representation fees may be claimed.”

Puff—

[Trial Result - Not Guilty]

[Right to claim litigation costs has been activated]

The courtroom froze. Everyone knew this was not a battle won by shouting louder.

“D-Director!”

The director’s neck had turned red. His fury simmered like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Eun-Ho smiled faintly. “As you already know, I’m quite competent, so my retainer fee is rather high.”

“So?”

He smiled even bigger. “So, one million Welfare Points should suffice.”

The volcano erupted.

“You insolent—”

The air itself burst like a ruptured balloon, and an invisible pressure crushed down on everyone’s lungs.

“You expect to extort a million points for a thirty-minute trial?!”

“Forty-two minutes,” Eun-Ho corrected calmly, glancing at the clock again. “Ah. Forty-three now.”

“You lunatic!”

“Exactly,” Eun-Ho replied lightly. “So why provoke a lunatic?”

The Audit officials descended into complete chaos. They surged forward like a swarm of hornets, shouting over one another.

“That’s outrageous!”

“There’s no precedent for such a ruling!”

“Of course there isn’t because I wasn’t around back then,” Eun-Ho replied.

They clutched the back of their neck in disbelief and their teeth ground audibly.

“You might want to keep the noise down because it’s an additional twenty-five thousand Points per minute.”

“Ugh!”

“Let’s just settle this reasonably!”

Unfortunately for them, Eun-Ho did not believe in reasonableness. “So, do you want to split the bill? Or will one of you be paying in full?”