Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 478 - Requital (1)

“Wait a second. Uh… I’m not really familiar with recording videos.”

 

Manager Nam fumbled, pressing several buttons in a row. When I held out my hand, he willingly handed over the phone.

 

Pretending that I was changing the settings to record in higher quality, I casually started the conversation.

 

“You must be very close with your daughter. You even talk about idols together.”

 

“It’s just a normal father-daughter relationship.”

 

Manager Nam always took pride in the fact that he had a good relationship with his daughter.

 

Kids these days go through terrible rebellious phases, but not my Jooah. You have no idea how sweet my kid is to her mom and dad.

 

I’d heard those words enough times to wear my ears out. His love for his daughter never seemed to run dry.

 

“A normal relationship? How many father-daughter pairs are that close?”

 

There were no better words to please a man like Manager Nam, whose greatest pride in life was being a ‘father who is like a friend to his daughter.’ Sure enough, his smile stretched from ear to ear.

 

And one more thing.

 

A person like Manager Nam, who was authoritative and obsessed with external appearances…

 

“That must be thanks to all the care and attention you put in, Team Leader.”

 

…felt great displeasure when someone got information about them wrong.

 

‘Don’t you know what kind of coffee I like?’, ‘Did you forget I don’t eat seafood?’ These all fall under the same context. They believed everyone should naturally know things about them because they viewed themselves as people who exerted influence over others.

 

And that inflated ego wasn’t limited to people close to them. Their inability to let small things slide extended even to complete strangers. Remarks like, ‘You expect me to just drink something this bitter?’ or ‘Do I really have to spell it out for you to know?’ were common examples.

 

People like him believed others should cater to them from beginning to end as though providing a service, and…

 

“Not Team Leader. Deputy Manager.”

 

…they only felt satisfied when they pointed out someone else’s mistake, slip of the tongue, or misunderstanding.

 

If someone underestimated their accomplishments, that was actually preferable for them. Correcting the mistake gave them a chance to emphasize how important they really were.

 

The opposite case, however, bruised their pride. Even when no disrespect was intended, they felt slighted. Consequently, they made a point of calling out the other person’s error. By pointing out another’s fault, they forgot their own hurt feelings.

 

At least because I had just praised the father-daughter relationship, his method of correction was generous. It meant I had reached the stage of being ‘not entirely unlikable’ to Manager Nam, who usually looked down on strangers—especially since he wanted something from me.

 

Today’s plan began with stimulating Manager Nam by using the information I, Kim Iwol of the past, had gathered while dealing with him. To do that, I first had to easily push this lukewarm goodwill to its absolute limit. I needed to build trust to move the conversation forward.

 

“Ah, maybe you haven’t been informed yet.”

 

“Informed of what?”

 

“Because your promotion luck has clearly come in. It’s a certainty that you’ll become a Team Leader… I thought you already knew.”

 

Manager Nam wasn’t stupid when it came to corporate society. He instantly realized that he had never introduced himself to me as a manager, and there was no way an outsider like me should know that the current HR Team Leader was moving to be promoted to Department Manager, leaving the Team Leader position vacant.

 

That was why it was important to include a suggestive phrase. I needed to leave a lasting impression in his mind while he chewed over whether my words were just empty flattery.

 

In this case, the hook was ‘promotion luck.’ On its own, ‘luck’ could simply mean good fortune, but attaching it to ‘promotion’ gave it a superstitious quality.

 

Though it seemed like a minor difference, I needed to engrave these points one by one into Manager Nam’s head.

 

Among the general public—especially those with no interest in idols—Kim Iwol’s image was strongly tied to being the idol who had predicted a comeback victory in a Korea-Japan match that had seemed hopelessly lost.

 

The impact of the fortune teller-themed variety show that hit millions of views couldn’t be ignored either. The clips of the fortune-teller declaring me as a ‘fellow who knows the future’ recorded an astronomical number of views.

 

On top of that, whenever celebrities in Korea became embroiled in scandals or got targeted by gossip channels, countless fortune-analysis MeTube channels inevitably dug up their birth information and analyzed their horoscopes.

 

I was no exception. While I was on the news daily and engaged in a fierce battle over rumors of being ‘unfilial’ or ‘abused,’ videos embellished with the real fortune-teller’s mysterious remarks—like ‘I can’t see his face’ or ‘He knows the future’—were uploaded in droves with sensational titles.

 

There was no way a man like Manager Nam, who loved hearing other people’s misfortunes, hadn’t seen at least one news report or horoscope analysis video, especially since those targeted the 40 to 70 age demographic. I knew that for certain because I’d seen his MeTube subscriptions before.

 

Added to this, a video was recently broadcast on network news showing me pulling a member out of harm’s way just as a stage was about to collapse.

 

Younger people, who were frequently exposed to idol-related information, were more likely to remember me with a diverse image—the guy from the Ministry of Employment and Labor ad, or the guy who was the villain in that drama.

 

On the other hand, to a middle-aged man who ignored irrelevant information, only paid attention to major incidents, and only remembered the titles of a few short, sensational clips, my image was…

 

‘A young man with a tragic life who possesses spiritual powers.’

 

A person publicly mentioned in the media for shamanic issues not only knew the inner workings of the company but even pointed out that he would get a promotion. And that person did so at the perfect time, with nothing to gain from lying.

 

Manager Nam was easily shaken by such things. I didn’t particularly enjoy exploiting that knowledge, knowing the anecdote of how he visited every famous shamanic house for the sake of his daughter who had a sickly childhood, but…

 

Manager Nam’s eyebrows quivered.

 

“Is that so?”

 

Excitement seeped through his attempt at sounding calm.

 

“I’ve never heard anyone say my accuracy is low.”

 

“Even if it’s just empty words, it’s good to hear. Haha!”

 

While he basked in satisfaction, I took a few performative selfies.

 

“Even if it hasn’t been announced yet, you should tell your mother in advance.”

 

“Are you that confident? If you’re wrong, how am I supposed to look my mother in the eye?”

 

“What does it matter?”

 

Having narrowed the distance using my background knowledge of Manager Nam and increased my credibility with my public image, I took the next step. I had to make sure Manager Nam would never even think of doing anything stupid again.

 

I looked into the camera lens, pressed the record button, and spoke.

 

“Since she’ll be passing away soon.”

 

I said something absurd, quite calmly.

 

“What?”

 

“If she hears the good news, won’t it make her departure a little easier?”

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Manager Nam’s face darken.

 

In the past, if a look like that appeared, a shout would immediately follow. However, Manager Nam chose to hold back for a moment. It was likely because his anger was mixed with bewilderment.

 

“What a jinxed thing to say.”

 

“I don’t know why you think it’s a jinx. It’s not something that would hurt you, Team Leader.”

 

One of Manager Nam’s greatest regrets was that his mother had passed away before seeing him become a team leader. Every time there was a company dinner, it was Manager Nam’s routine to shout about how devoted his mother had been to him, and then finish by boasting about how he overcame deep sorrow to become a department manager.

 

Unfortunately, even if someone had warned him ahead of time, there was likely nothing he could have done. If illness had been the cause, it could have been different, but aging allowed no intervention.

 

Still, I hoped he would be grateful for the warning.

 

“Use the little time you have left to show some filial piety.”

 

Compared to his behavior of making my phone ring during a funeral until the day of the burial, wasn’t this remarkably humane? I was giving him a chance not to regret things after losing her.

 

“You should at least do that much if your mother’s carrying the burden of your sins.”

 

“You little bastard!”

 

Manager Nam lunged at me to snatch the phone. When I held the phone high, Manager Nam shoved me hard. Dusting off my crumpled shoulder, I said:

 

“You should have lived a virtuous life. At your age, when you should be letting your child benefit from your virtue, what kind of unfilial behavior is this?”

 

“Shut up! If you keep spreading this crap around, I’ll…”

 

“Do you not understand what I mean when I say your mother is dying because of you, Team Leader?”

 

 Manager Nam, who hadn’t caught the implication of my words, only blinked.

 

“I mean that you’ve committed so many sins that the innocent people around you are paying the price.”

 

Seeing Manager Nam agitated just from hearing news that someone might die made my blood boil. He clearly knew how to treasure people, so I wanted to ask why he had trampled on the lives of others so much.

 

But I tried to stay calm. I didn’t come here for personal revenge. There was a goal I wanted to accomplish, even if it meant meeting a man I never wanted to see again, not even in hell.

 

Being the human Kim Iwol wasn’t enough. Someone unaccustomed to intimidating others could only imitate a threat, never truly deliver one. I learned bitterly from experience that a bluff delivered while trembling carried no power.

 

So, I thought of Cheon Yoonsung. I traced the memory of acting as a stiff, upright character who wouldn’t bow to anyone, whether they were powerful or corrupt, to achieve his goal.

 

For this moment, I didn’t care if my behavior was immoral. I erased everything else from my mind—his age, circumstances, everything.

 

To stop any more victims from being made.

 

“Have you heard that evil spirits are cowardly by nature and only cling to the weak?”

 

Just like you, Manager Nam.

 

Manager Nam’s eyebrows twitched. I smiled softly.

 

“Your daughter has a weak body, doesn’t she?”

 

Manager Nam couldn’t contain his rage and grabbed me by the collar.

 

“I’m going to sue you. I’ll make sure the whole country knows you’re a piece of human trash who spreads this kind of talk on the internet. You think I can’t do it?”

 

“Do it.”

 

Manager Nam froze solid upon hearing informal speech from a kid young enough to be his son.

 

His pupils trembled pathetically.

 

He must be confused. He was the one who grabbed my collar, but since he had to look up to meet my gaze, it was hard to tell who had the upper hand. There was no way Manager Nam could understand a situation where he was the one throwing curses and fists, yet the other person was smiling.

 

Looking down at him, Manager Nam was truly insignificant. So insignificant that I wondered whether all the years I’d spent worrying about him had actually happened.

 

Why had I suffered so much because of someone like this?

 

I couldn’t believe a man who looked ready to foam at the mouth over being spoken to casually by someone younger had once seemed powerful enough to ruin my life. A hollow laugh escaped me.

 

“Do whatever the hell you want. Keep writing posts slandering people and throwing your weight around. Who do you think ends up paying for that?”

 

And I pushed him further. For this conversation to mean anything, he needed to feel cornered. I had to make him as flustered and anxious as possible for the effect of the fear to last.

 

And for that purpose, I had prepared a simple stage effect, certain that the stage for our conversation would be this very storage room.

 

Manager Nam had offloaded, literally, ‘everything’ in Hanpyeong Industry onto me. While living under that burden, my brain became a sort of general encyclopedia.

 

For example, the lights in this trash-heap of a storage room often went out on their own, but I was the only one who knew why. The reason was a ‘faulty switch contact’. People in this company had a habit of enduring easily fixable problems for years. Until I joined.

 

The fact that they used a shelf wide enough to slightly cover the switch to pack in as many items as possible was also a problem. Every time the frame of the shelf was bumped, the impact traveled to the poorly installed switch. The contact terminals, which had construction issues, caused frequent flickering.

 

Whether I could use this light was something I could only know once I got here. Thankfully, the light flickered the moment it was turned on, proving the connection was still faulty. Everything was perfect.

 

“Because people waited on you hand and foot and flattered you by saying you’re the best and great, you think you’ve lived a good life until now.”

 

Be anxious. Even if you want to run away, you won’t be able to for fear that your precious family will be harmed. Sit there desperately praying that whatever I’m about to say won’t be aimed at you.

 

Just like I used to do while working doggedly under you.

 

“Wake up. Expecting a good person—who does everything you ask and acts as if they’d die for you—to stay beside trash like you forever is pure greed.”

 

Manager Nam shoved me violently. I crashed into a metal shelf with a loud clang.

 

In this situation, the unstable light source, even without someone reaching out to turn it off…

 

“If you keep living like this?”

 

…would go out just from receiving an indirect impact.

 

With a pop, the light died. The storage room went pitch black in an instant.

 

“That person dies.”

 

The color drained from Manager Nam’s face.