POV [First Day of Job of a Strategic Planning Division Analyst]
March 6, 2024. Seoul, Mapo District. 05:59 AM.
My hand slammed the alarm before it could ring.
I'd been awake for the past hour anyway, staring at the ceiling, heart racing like I'd just run a marathon. Sleep was impossible. How could anyone sleep the night before their life changed?
I sat up in my small room. The apartment was quiet. Mom was probably already awake in the kitchen. She always woke up early when something important was happening.
I stood and walked to the mirror mounted on my closet door.
The suit was already laid out on the chair. Dark navy, tailored, expensive. I'd spent three months' worth of part-time wages on it. The fabric felt heavy in my hands, smooth, quality wool that didn't wrinkle easily.
I put on the white dress shirt first. Starched collar, crisp enough to cut paper. Then the pants. The jacket. I adjusted each button carefully. Slid the belt through the loops. Clipped on the matching leather watch, cheap, but it looked expensive enough.
Then I picked up the tie. Navy blue with a thin silver stripe. I knotted it twice before getting it right, pulled it snug against my collar.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I looked like them. Like the executives I'd seen on TV. The ones who walked out of black sedans with phones pressed to their ears, making decisions worth billions of won.
My ID card sat on the desk. I picked it up with both hands.
[Samyung Group – Strategic Planning Division]
[Kim Min-jae]
[Employee ID: SPD-2024-089]
The plastic felt heavier than it should. I stared at my photo—serious expression, hair combed back, wearing the same shirt I had on now.
Samyung Group. The fourth-largest conglomerate in South Korea. Revenue of 89 trillion won last year. Seventy-three subsidiaries. The company that built half the infrastructure in this country.
And they chose me.
Out of 14,000 applicants, they picked eight people. I was one of them. I beat out graduates from Harvard, Seoul National, Yonsei. I survived three rounds of interviews that made grown men walk out with red eyes.
The acceptance rate was 0.06%.
I clipped the card to my belt. It hung there like a badge of honor.
"Min-jae-ya!"
Mom's voice came from the kitchen, cutting through my thoughts. I could smell it already—grilled mackerel, soybean paste stew, rice steaming in the cooker.
I walked out of my room. The hallway was narrow, the floor cold under my dress socks. Our apartment was small, 32 pyeong, the kind of place where you could hear everything happening in the next room. The wallpaper was old, peeling slightly at the corners, but Mom kept it spotless.
She was standing at the table, setting down dishes. When she looked up and saw me, she froze.
Her mouth opened slightly. Her eyes went wide, then immediately filled with tears.
"Eomma, don't—"
"Oh my God." Her voice cracked. She covered her mouth with one hand. "Look at you. You look like... like a real businessman. Like someone important."
"Mom, if you cry, my eyes will swell."
"I'm not crying." Tears were already streaming down her face. She rushed over and grabbed my shoulders with her rough, calloused hands. Smoothed down my jacket. Adjusted my tie even though it was already perfect.
"Your father," she whispered. "If he could see you now. He would be so proud. He would tell everyone in the neighborhood. He would—"
"I know, Mom."
Dad died six years ago. Heart attack behind the wheel of his taxi. He was only forty-eight.
She pulled me into a tight hug, her head barely reaching my chest. "Don't work too hard. Eat your meals. Don't trust everyone just because they smile at you. Corporate people are dangerous."
"I'll be careful."
She let go and reached into her apron, pulling out three pouches of red ginseng extract. The expensive kind from the pharmacy. "Drink these. One now, one on the subway, one for work. You need energy."
"This is too much—"
"Take them." She shoved them into my jacket pockets. "And eat. You can't go in there on an empty stomach."
I sat down at the low table. Grilled mackerel, still sizzling. White rice. Kimchi. Soybean paste stew with tofu and green onions. I ate quickly, barely tasting it, my stomach too tight with nerves to appreciate the food.
Mom watched me the entire time, hands folded, smiling even as tears kept falling.
"Head down. Bow ninety degrees to your superiors. Don't speak unless spoken to. And whatever you do, don't look the Chairman and your superior in the eyes."
"I know, Mom."
I finished eating, rinsed my bowl in the sink, and grabbed my leather messenger bag. Genuine cowhide, another expensive purchase. Inside: notebook, two pens, my laptop, and a copy of my employment contract.
I slipped on my black oxfords at the door. Polished them last night until I could see my reflection.
"Call me when you get there, " Mom said.
"okay. I'll call."
I opened the door.
The March air hit my face, cold and sharp. The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of dark blue and orange. Seoul stretched out in front of me, endless concrete and neon, the city that never truly slept.
I stepped outside. The door closed behind me.
My hands were shaking. Just slightly. I shoved them into my pockets and started walking.
Dangsan Station. 07:18 AM.
The subway platform was packed. Salarymen in dark suits, clutching coffee cups and phones. Office workers in pencil skirts and blazers. High school students with backpacks, half-asleep against the walls.
The train arrived with a screech of brakes and a rush of stale, recycled air. The doors opened. The crowd surged forward.
I was pushed inside, crushed between a businessman who reeked of cigarettes and a college student with headphones blasting music loud enough for me to hear. My face was pressed against the glass. I could barely breathe. Sweat started forming on my back despite the cold air outside.
But I didn't care.
In my pocket, I could feel the weight of my ID card. That small piece of plastic made everything worth it.
The train rattled through the tunnels. Each station announcement felt like a countdown. Dangsan. Yeouinaru. Then finally—
"This is Yeouido Station. Yeouido Station. The doors are opening."
I fought my way out of the train, shouldered past the crowd, and climbed the long staircase toward Exit 5. My legs burned. My shirt was sticking to my back. But I kept climbing.
One step. Two steps. Three.
I reached the surface and stopped.
There it was.
Samyung Tower.
I'd seen it in photos. On websites. In news articles. But nothing prepared me for seeing it in person.
It was a monster.
Sixty stories of blue glass and steel, rising into the sky like a blade. The surface was reflective, catching the morning sun and throwing light in every direction. The base was massive, framed by white marble columns that looked like they belonged in ancient Greece.
Above the entrance, carved in steel letters taller than a person:
SAMYUNG
Just the name. Nothing else needed.
People were streaming toward it from every direction. Thousands of them. These weren't regular people. These were the elite. Men in suits that cost more than my monthly rent. Women in designer heels clicking against the pavement in perfect rhythm. Everyone moved with purpose, with confidence, like they'd been born knowing they belonged here.
"Hey! Min-jae!"
I turned. Park Seok-won was running toward me, dodging through the crosswalk, nearly getting hit by a taxi. His tie was crooked. His hair was a mess. He was panting like he'd just sprinted a kilometer.
"You're late," I said.
"I know! My alarm didn't go off. Do I look okay? Is my tie straight?"
I reached over and fixed his knot. "You look terrible. But we don't have time. We need to get inside."
He looked up at the tower and his eyes went wide. "Wow. Look at this thing. We're really working here?"
"Come on."
We joined the river of people flowing toward the entrance. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs. My hands were sweating.
We passed through the massive revolving glass doors.
And stepped into the lobby.
Oh my God.
The ceiling stretched three stories high, maybe four. The walls were white Italian marble with veins of gold running through them. Crystal chandeliers hung from above, each one probably worth more than my family's entire apartment. The floor was polished black granite, so reflective I could see my face in it.
The air smelled different here. Cool. Clean. Expensive perfume mixed with leather and something else I couldn't identify. Money, maybe. Power.
In the center was a fountain, water cascading down in smooth sheets, lit from below with soft blue lights. The sound of it mixed with the clicking of hundreds of shoes on marble.
People everywhere. Moving in every direction. Talking on phones. Checking tablets. Everyone looked busy. Everyone looked important.
"Holy shit," Seok-won whispered next to me. "This is insane."
I couldn't speak. I just stood there, staring.
Security gates lined the far wall—glass turnstiles with card readers. Above them, a massive digital screen displayed the Samyung logo and the current time: 07:58 AM.
"Let's go," I said quietly.
We walked toward the gates. My hand trembled slightly as I pulled out my ID card. I swiped it against the reader.
Beep.
[ACCESS GRANTED – KIM MIN-JAE – SPD]
Green light.
The turnstile clicked open.
I stepped through.
That sound. That little beep. It sent a rush of adrenaline through my entire body. Confirmation. Validation. Proof.
I was in. I belonged here.
Seok-won swiped his card. Beep. Green light. He grinned like an idiot. "We made it."
I looked around. Elevators to the left, thirty of them in a row, polished steel doors gleaming. A reception desk to the right, staffed by women in crisp black uniforms. Digital screens everywhere showing stock prices and news headlines.
Everything was perfect. Clean. Expensive.
This was it. The top of the world.
Then everything changed.
The conversations stopped. Mid-sentence. Just stopped.
The clicking of shoes died. The sound of the fountain seemed to fade.
Silence.
Complete. Absolute.
I looked around, confused. Everyone had frozen. Two thousand people, all of them staring at the entrance with wide eyes.
The security guards—massive guys, former special forces—suddenly went rigid. Their faces turned pale. One of them touched his earpiece, listened, and I saw genuine fear cross his expression.
"What's going on?" Seok-won whispered.
I didn't answer. Because I was watching something strange happen.
People were moving. Backing away from the center of the lobby. Pressing themselves against the walls. Creating space. A wide, empty corridor from the entrance straight to the VIP elevators.
No one said a word. They just moved, like some invisible force was pushing them back.
"Min-jae, what—"
"Shh."
Outside, I heard it.
Vroooooom.
An engine. Low. Deep. The kind of sound you feel in your chest.
A car pulled up to the entrance.
Not a Genesis. Not even a Mercedes.
A Maybach S650 Pullman.
Jet black. Armored plating visible along the sides. Windows tinted so dark they looked like portals into nothing.
The car was enormous, longer than any sedan I'd ever seen. It looked like it could survive a bomb.
It stopped directly in front of the entrance. The engine idled, purring like a sleeping tiger.
The driver's door opened. A man stepped out in a pure white uniform. White gloves. White cap. He moved with the precision of a soldier, walking around to the rear passenger door.
He opened it.
A black oxford shoe appeared. Polished to a mirror shine, not a single scuff mark.
Then the man stepped out.
Tall. Maybe 185 centimeters. He wore a charcoal grey three-piece suit that fit so perfectly it looked like it had been sewn directly onto his body. He held a thin leather document case in his left hand. Rimless glasses caught the morning light, making his eyes invisible behind the glare.
His face was handsome. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Hair styled back perfectly, not a strand out of place.
But there was something wrong about him. Something that made my instincts scream.
He stood there for a moment, completely still. Then he reached up and adjusted his cufflinks. One. Then the other. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world.
He smoothed down his tie with one hand.
Then he walked toward the entrance.
Click.
Click.
Click.
His footsteps echoed through the lobby. Sharp. Precise. The only sound in a space holding two thousand people.
He passed through the revolving doors. They spun slowly, silently.
He entered the lobby.
The temperature dropped. I swear I felt it. The air got colder.
He walked straight ahead, eyes forward, never looking left or right. He moved like someone who had never doubted a single step in his entire life. Like gravity worked differently for him.
Every person in the lobby was frozen, pressed against the walls, watching him like he was a predator walking through a herd of prey.
"Who is that?" Seok-won breathed. "Is he a celebrity?"
I couldn't answer. My throat was too dry.
The man was halfway across the lobby when the entrance doors burst open behind him.
"DIRECTOR KANG!"
The sound shattered the silence like glass.
Six men stumbled into the lobby. All wearing expensive suits, but they looked like they'd been running. Sweating. Faces red. Ties loose. One of them was trying to support another man who could barely stand.
Chairman Park Sung-ho.
I recognized him instantly. The face from every business magazine. The man who sat next to the President at state dinners. The owner of Samyung Group.
He looked like death.
His face was pale and slick with sweat. His hair usually perfectly styled in every photo was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his tie hanging loose around his neck.
He stumbled forward two steps.
Then his legs gave out.
Thud.
His knees hit the marble floor.
Two thousand people gasped.
The Chairman of Samyung Group was on his knees.
"Director Kang!" His voice was raw. Broken. "Please! Wait! Just listen to me!"
The man in the charcoal suit, Director Kang, didn't stop walking. He didn't even slow down. He glanced at his watch, calm, like checking the time for a meeting.
"You can't do this!" Chairman Park's voice cracked. He was crying now, tears streaming down his face. "This is MY company! My father built this! I gave you EVERYTHING!"
He crawled forward. Actually crawled on his hands and knees across the polished marble.
"I trusted you like a SON!"
The executives behind him tried to help him up. "Chairman, please—"
"Get off me!" He shoved them away and kept crawling, reaching out toward the man who was walking away from him.
"Take the money! Take the shares! Just leave me the name ! Don't take everything please !"
His voice echoed off the marble walls. It was grotesque. Pathetic. A king reduced to a beggar in front of everyone.
"WHY?!" He slammed his fist against the floor. "Why are you doing this?! TELL ME!"
Director Kang stopped.
Ten meters from the elevator. He stood there for a moment, completely still.
Then he turned around.
Slowly. Gracefully.
The entire lobby held its breath.
He looked down at Chairman Park. His face showed absolutely nothing. No anger. No pity. No satisfaction. Just emptiness.
He adjusted his glasses with one finger.
"Chairman Park."
His voice was soft. Smooth. But it carried through the silence like a blade.
"The emergency board meeting concluded at 7:30 this morning. The vote was unanimous. The acquisition papers are signed and filed. Your access rights were revoked at 8:00 AM."
Silence.
Chairman Park's eyes went wide. "What... no. No, you can't—"
"Your corporate email has been deactivated. Your company credit cards are frozen. Your parking access is revoked." Director Kang's voice never changed. Never rose. "The transition team will contact you within three business days regarding severance."
"You... you DEVIL!" Chairman Park clutched his chest. "You MONSTER!!! I will KILL you! I will destroy—"
Director Kang turned his back.
"Security."
Two guards stepped forward immediately.
"Escort the guest out."
Guest.
The word hung in the air like poison.
Chairman Park's face went purple. "GUEST?! I am the OWNER! This is MY building!"
The guards hesitated, looking between the Chairman and Director Kang. Terrified.
Director Kang turned his head slightly. One glance.
The guards moved. They grabbed Chairman Park by the arms.
"Sir, please don't make this difficult—"
"LET GO OF ME!" He thrashed, kicking, screaming. "I WILL HAVE YOUR FAMILIES DESTROYED! KANG JIN-HYUK! I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL—"
They dragged him toward the exit. His shoes scraped against the floor, leaving black marks on the pristine marble.
His screams echoed. Raw. Desperate.
Then the glass doors closed.
The sound cut off instantly.
Silence returned.
Director Kang Jin-hyuk was already on his phone. He tapped something, slid it into his pocket, and walked to the VIP elevator.
The crowd parted around him. No one wanted to be close. Like he was cursed.
Click. Click. Click.
The elevator doors opened immediately, as if they'd been waiting for him.
He stepped inside. Turned around.
For just one second, his eyes swept across the lobby. Across two thousand frozen faces.
His expression didn't change.
The doors closed.
He was gone.
For five seconds, no one moved. No one breathed.
Then slowly, the lobby came back to life. People started moving again. Talking in hushed whispers. Walking toward elevators and stairwells like nothing had happened.
But I couldn't move.
My legs felt weak. My shirt was soaked with sweat. My hands were shaking.
"Min-jae." Seok-won's voice was barely audible. His face was pale. "What the fuck was that? That was the Chairman. The OWNER. Who the hell is that guy?"
I swallowed. My throat was dry as sandpaper.
"He's the man they call when a company needs to be erased on the map."
I'd seen the name before. In financial forums. In dark corners of business on all forums. In whispered conversations about companies that disappeared overnight. Even the blue house was in fear when he was mentioned.
"Who?" Seok-won stared at me.
I looked down at my ID card, still clipped to my belt.
"The grim reaper: Kang Jin-hyuk ! "