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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-ti 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, sothing 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 soone 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 .
"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 seed 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 mbers peeked over the partitions, their pity practically palpable.
‘Tough but resilient. That’s Eunho.’
"Hey, how about lunch? My treat. How does so 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 —a man with a limp.
That’s who I am, Lee Eunho.
"…I already have plans. Enjoy your al."
* * *
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 t.
"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 to get sowhere or whether I’d be slowing soone else down.
"Eunho, you sound like it’s soone else’s problem."
Jieun gave a wry smile as she sat across from .
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-ti 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 sohow her fault.
"I’ll try to find sothing 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 sa?
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.
‘To run with everything I’ve got, just once.’
But that was impossible.
Not unless I was born again.
…Or so I thought, until a disaster announcent proved otherwise.
— Jijijk.
"Fifteen minutes left. Shall we head down?"
"Already?"
Ten steps to the return desk.
Sixteen to the elevator.
For , that distance felt endless.
Plus, the 25th-floor elevator was always packed with café-goers and smokers.
I might have to wait several trips.
I rose quickly to get a head start.
— Jijijik.
"Wow, you’re punctual. Even though it’s your last few days here."
"I just don’t want to get scolded over sothing dumb."
"Ah, let take your glass."
"Thanks."
Clutching my right pant leg, I walked toward the return desk.
— Swish, thunk. Swish, thunk.
Dragging my stiff right leg forward, stepping with my left.
Dragging again, another step.
Even a visible destination feels far away when you limp.
[Attention, Earth occupants. Please…]
"Huh? Is that an announcent?"
"Can’t really hear it…."
The static-laden speaker buzzed repeatedly as I hobbled along.
[Once again, we announce…]
Then, unexpectedly, the crackling beca clear.
[Following yesterday’s board decision, Earth is slated for sale. As part of this, restructuring will comnce.]
Restructuring?
I frowned instinctively.
[Employees will be selected for restructuring through a mission system to ensure fairness.]
[Restructuring candidates are fairly selected through missions.]
"The Earth they’re talking about on the broadcast isn’t our Earth, right?"
"What kind of prank is this? Restructuring, missions, and all that?"
Like Jieun and I were bothered by different aspects, everyone on the rooftop gathered in small groups, murmuring.
"What’s this all about?"
"They say it’s happening on other floors too. Must be a building-wide announcent?"
"No, they’re saying this broadcast is being aired nationwide…?"
Three n in jeans and hoodies huddled together, looking at their smartphones, chatting.
Yellow employee badges.
Employees from the gaming company occupying floors 6 through 9, perhaps?
[The first mission will begin shortly. Please evacuate to a safe zone before the tir runs out.]
"Is this so kind of disaster drill? Missions, though? They’re really making drills like gas these days."
"Right? Maybe they’ll hand out rewards if we clear the mission."
As expected from gaming company employees—always with a casual lunch hour.
But for —
"Are you heading down?"
"You know how our team leader is. If I’m late, he’ll flip out."
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"But still…."
12:49 PM.
Ten minutes until lunch break ends.
If I’m even a minute late, he’ll line us up and lecture us like schoolkids.
Again.
“Do you think this could be a real fire drill or sothing? It just feels off….”
Around that ti, Jieun started biting her nails, visibly uneasy.
Then the sound of a ticking clock, which shouldn’t be audible outside, began to echo.
A green circle suddenly appeared on the cent floor, out of nowhere.
[A safe zone has been created.]
The circle was large enough to encompass the café tables and most of the rooftop.
[You have 10 minutes. Anyone outside the safe zone after the ti limit will be subject to restructuring.]
"Huh? How’d this just pop up? Was it pre-drawn?"
"Maybe it’s projected with lights? Or a hologram?"
As expected from the gaming company employees—debating the chanics of the circle’s appearance in the middle of all this.
"Looks like we’re supposed to step inside."
"Yes. At least everyone’s distracted enough that we won’t miss the elevator."
"Uh… but, Eunho, the ticking sound…."
As I absentmindedly turned towards the elevator, Jieun fidgeted nervously.
"Maybe it’s coming from a speaker? Anyway, let’s just head dow—"
“Jieun? Eunho?”
"Ah, Manager Choi!"
It was Manager Choi, the key figure of Jieun’s dostic sales support team, along with one of his colleagues.
As they approached, the stench of cigarette smoke hit .
I rembered Jieun once ntioning how uncomfortable she felt around him.
"What are you still doing up here? Lunch break’s over."
I was about to say we were just heading down when Jieun spoke first.
"Well, we were about to head down, but the broadcast was talking about restructuring, and…."
"Restructuring?"
"Yes! Didn’t you hear the announcent?"
"Well, yeah, I heard it, but co 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 seed 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 so lifeti employnt deal, you know…."
If I interpreted his grumble as aning "for a re 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 sohow, the words just spilled out of .
"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.
, hobbling as always.
"Thank you. You could’ve just gone ahead, though."
[10 seconds until the tir 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 lifeti job anyway."
"…That’s not really sothing to laugh about. I’m in the sa 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. Tir expired.]
"Uh, Eunho! Please, don’t—"
Watching the sa scene, Jieun suddenly panicked, trying to divert my gaze.
Ah… I get it.
They’re mimicking .
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 mont. I an, ‘gone’ is a bit…."
Panicking, I frantically glanced around while Jieun muttered nervously.
[Choose your mission reward.]
And then, a translucent screen appeared before , like a hologram.
〔Lee Eunho〕
Affiliation: District 13, ROK-SEO-107 Zone, MS Tower
Position: Restructuring Candidate
Stats: Stamina (12), Strength (11), Intelligence (10), Judgnt (15), Agility (1), Endurance (31)
Traits: Locked
Skills: Locked
I could make sense of my na and so 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 undergarnts—showcasing its front, side, and back, as if it was sothing to admire.
"…?"
It didn’t capture facial details, but it was unmistakably .
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.
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