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Chapter 1: The Beginning of Restructuring (1)
"I'm sorry, Eunho."
Team Leader Lee scratched his balding head.
"According to HR, there's no quota for converting contract workers to full-time this year. The economy is just too bad...."
"So, I didn’t get converted, huh."
My two-year contract ends next month.
In other words, I’ve been let go.
Again.
"It’s absolutely not because you weren’t good enough. It's just, well, restructuring. You understand, right?"
"You're saying... it’s a layoff?"
Does cutting contract workers even count as restructuring?
"Well, something like that. The company’s struggling, so they need to reduce labor costs. But it’s tough to fire regular employees outright. Instead, they stop hiring new ones."
"...So that’s why they only hire contract workers. Because they still need labor."
"No, that’s not quite it...."
His uncharacteristic hesitation was strange.
He usually had no problem barking orders.
Maybe it’s because I’m not really one of them anymore.
He looked like a job interviewer trying to be kind to someone he’s about to reject.
"Yeah. I figured this would happen."
I didn’t feel furious or betrayed, just numb.
After all, he’s just another salaried worker like me.
"You're okay, right? Don’t take it too hard, Eunho."
"I have no reason to be upset with you, sir."
I said it dryly, but Team Leader Lee seemed relieved that I wasn’t angry or upset.
He relaxed visibly, even propping his feet on a nearby chair.
"Phew, that’s why I like you. You’re tough. Eunho, you’ll do great wherever you go. It might be a bit, well, tough now, but you’ve still got your whole life ahead of you."
The gazes of the other team members peeked over the partitions, their pity practically palpable.
‘Tough but resilient. That’s Eunho.’
"Hey, how about lunch? My treat. How does some blood sausage stew sound?"
"Team Leader! The blood sausage stew place is a ten-minute walk away, and Eunho’s...."
"Oh... Well, how about the soup place across the street? What do you think, Eunho?"
A ten-minute walk might as well be a marathon for me—a man with a limp.
That’s who I am, Lee Eunho.
"...I already have plans. Enjoy your meal."
* * *
I didn’t have plans.
I just couldn’t stomach the thought of joining them today.
Besides, it’s not like I’d want to watch him scarf down a bowl of soup in under five minutes.
I decided to grab a convenience store lunchbox instead.
That is, until I ran into Jieun, who was left alone on the neighboring team, and our eyes met.
"Two years went by fast. My contract’s already up."
I spoke calmly, sipping my coffee.
The balance of acidity and nuttiness was just right.
It tasted good.
If nothing else, I’d miss this rooftop café.
The view of the city skyline from the 25th floor, the garden scattered with trees and flowers, and the freedom of enjoying coffee in the open air—especially the sense of peace while watching the scenery from above.
Up here, I didn’t have to worry about how long it’d take me to get somewhere or whether I’d be slowing someone else down.
"Eunho, you sound like it’s someone else’s problem."
Jieun gave me a wry smile as she sat across from me.
We’d started as secretarial interns a week apart and had been contract colleagues ever since.
Not that we were particularly close.
'Do we get performance bonuses too?'
'Not sure.'
'Or when’s Director Park coming in?'
'He already left for the day.'
That was about the extent of our conversations.
"Well, everyone’s been saying the full-time conversion rate has been zero for the last five years."
I had known from the start.
A stable future at this big company was never in the cards.
Even landing a contract position here might have been sheer luck.
"Do you have any plans after this?"
"I’ve been job hunting, but... as you know, it’s not easy."
I said it offhandedly, but Jieun looked down apologetically.
"Sorry about that,"
She murmured.
She was unnecessarily polite, as if my limp was somehow her fault.
"I’ll try to find something less physically demanding. I doubt I’ll starve to death at twenty-nine."
"...You’re so optimistic, Eunho."
I gave a bitter chuckle.
It wasn’t optimism.
I just didn’t have expectations anymore.
About anything.
Wouldn’t anyone feel the same?
Once a promising track and field prospect, I lost my leg's full function in an accident a week before the college entrance exams.
After recovery, I scraped by to enroll in a second-rate college as a business major.
I graduated with decent grades.
Now I drift from one contract job to another in this brutal job market.
I had no real complaints about my life of low expectations.
Except for one wish.
"Yes! Didn’t you hear the announcement?"
"Well, yeah, I heard it, but come on. That’s nonsense. It’s not even a company-issued broadcast."
"Still, just in case... I thought maybe we should wait 10 minutes and see."
Jieun gestured at the people sitting inside the circle as if to justify herself.
She seemed eager to participate in this “mission,” whatever it was.
Usually, Jieun had good instincts, but her visible anxiety since earlier felt off.
"Don’t you know punctuality is the foundation of work? This isn’t some lifetime employment deal, you know...."
If I interpreted his grumble as meaning "for a mere contract worker," would that be paranoia?
"How about you, Eunho?"
"With all due respect, Manager, this doesn’t concern you. If we leave now, we won’t even be a few minutes late."
And somehow, the words just spilled out of me.
"Wow."
Actions and words I wouldn’t normally dare.
"A guy with a bum leg should focus on being diligent, at least."
"Please head down first, Manager. Eunho, let’s go."
As Manager Choi clicked his tongue, Jieun hastily cut the conversation short.
"Sorry."
"For what, Jieun?"
"For insisting we wait...."
"Don’t worry about it. No need to mind people like him. I’m used to it."
With that, we stepped into the ridiculous circle.
Me, hobbling as always.
"Thank you. You could’ve just gone ahead, though."
[10 seconds until the timer expires.]
"I just didn’t want to wait for the elevator with them. It’s fine. Like the manager said, it’s not like this is a lifetime job anyway."
"...That’s not really something to laugh about. I’m in the same boat."
Through the glass doors, Manager Choi and his colleague stood waiting for the elevator, clearly visible.
The two of them exaggeratedly swayed their bodies, laughing uproariously.
Were they mocking monkeys?
[...3, 2, 1. Timer expired.]
"Uh, Eunho! Please, don’t—"
Watching the same scene, Jieun suddenly panicked, trying to divert my gaze.
Ah... I get it.
They’re mimicking me.
My limp.
[All individuals outside the safe zone will now be eliminated.]
Before I lost my temper and threw a punch, I looked away.
"Eunho, don’t mind them!"
"...."
"Manager Choi’s always been like that...."
And when I looked up again, Manager Choi—
Flicker.
He was flickering.
Like a broken fluorescent light.
And then—
"...?"
He vanished.
Just like that.
Like a light going out.
Manager Choi and his colleague.
"Jieun! Manager Choi and the other guy—where did they go?"
[First mission complete. A total of 184 individuals from MS Tower have been restructured. 1,796 survivors remain.]
"Um, maybe they got in the elevator?"
Nobody was there.
By chance or design, the only people left were those who’d stepped into the circle.
"The people waiting for the elevator... they’re all gone!"
"Maybe they got on? Or stepped away for a moment. I mean, ‘gone’ is a bit...."
Panicking, I frantically glanced around while Jieun muttered nervously.
[Choose your mission reward.]
And then, a translucent screen appeared before me, like a hologram.
〔Lee Eunho〕
Affiliation: District 13, ROK-SEO-107 Zone, MS Tower
Position: Restructuring Candidate
Stats: Stamina (12), Strength (11), Intelligence (10), Judgment (15), Agility (1), Endurance (31)
Traits: Locked
Skills: Locked
I could make sense of my name and some of the numbers.
But everything else—this unknown affiliation, these stats—felt completely foreign.
Most bizarre of all was—
"This is...."
Under 〔Lee Eunho〕 was a rotating 3D hologram.
It depicted a figure—clad in nothing but undergarments—showcasing its front, side, and back, as if it was something to admire.
"...Me?"
It didn’t capture facial details, but it was unmistakably me.
The right leg, where my spine connected, was blackened—looking unmistakably lifeless.
A delusion rendered with impeccable realism.
At least, if I’m going crazy, it’s impressively detailed.
[Choose your mission reward.]
By chance—or perhaps instinct—I selected the blackened, dead leg.
[Translator - Night]
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