"Hey."
"Hi!"
Junhwi pushed open the conference room door and stepped inside. Eunyoung, who had arrived first, stood up and greeted him with a bright smile.
"Oh, please, sit down," Junhwi said.
Eunyoung smiled warmly and said, "I was honestly a little worried that asking for this time would be an imposition on you — I went back and forth about it a lot. But I still have so much to learn, and I really wanted to, so I went ahead and asked. Thank you for making time when you're so busy."
"Not at all. If there's anything I can do to help, I should be doing it. Honestly, I wasn't even sure how to go about it — I kept meaning to reach out and never did. I'm glad you brought it up first."
The two of them shared an easy, warm laugh.
This meeting existed because Eunyoung had requested it from CEO Jang. After the last competitive pitch, Eunyoung had apparently told CEO Jang she wanted to learn from Junhwi. CEO Jang had praised Eunyoung's enthusiasm and asked Junhwi if he could spare about an hour a week.
*So that's another way to get on the CEO's good side,* Junhwi thought. *You don't even need results. Just show some passion and she's thrilled.*
Junhwi had always believed the only way to earn the CEO's trust was through results. Saying things like *I'll work hard* or *I'm confident* — those were just words. He'd even figured that making big promises and then underdelivering would backfire worse than saying nothing at all.
But thinking about it now, maybe he'd been the foolish one. If he'd shown even a fraction of Eunyoung's enthusiasm, he probably could have won the CEO's favor a lot more easily.
Then again — even knowing that, could he actually have done it? This wasn't school. The idea of taking up a superior's time and asking to be taught felt impossible to him, like something he'd sooner die than do. If he wanted to learn something, he figured you used your own time after work. That was just how it was supposed to go.
And besides — if the company invested time and money into developing him, they'd expect a return on that investment. Junhwi hated the idea of anyone having high expectations of him. The higher the expectations, the harder the fall.
Eunyoung probably had that confidence in herself. The kind that said: *if I learn more, I'll get better.* The kind that only comes from actually believing in yourself. Junhwi didn't believe in himself. *If I learn more, will I actually improve? What if nothing changes? What if it turns out I'm just not worth the investment?* Those were the thoughts that always won.
He hated that about himself — the way his brain defaulted to that kind of small, anxious thinking. But you couldn't change your nature. *The second tier could struggle all they wanted; they'd never break into the inner circle, let alone the top caste.*
The weekly "tutoring sessions" — if you could call them that — were structured around Junhwi reading through whatever proposal or presentation script Eunyoung had written and giving her feedback.
"Let me take a look," Junhwi said.
He opened the proposal on his laptop and started reading. Eunyoung sat across from him, visibly tense.
*There was something quietly satisfying about this,* Junhwi thought — someone as sharp as Eunyoung wanting his opinion, hoping for his approval, nervous in front of him.
He let himself look a little more serious than necessary. Very senior of him.
"Everything here is solid," Junhwi said, "but I think the logic breaks down a little on slide twelve."
Eunyoung straightened up immediately. "Slide twelve? Okay, let me pull it up."
"This product has a really layered, multi-step application process, right? So targeting homemakers doesn't quite track for me."
"Oh — why not?"
"The ingredients and the benefits would definitely appeal to women in their forties and fifties. But the application itself is pretty involved. Kind of complicated."
"Ah…"
"And if we're talking about homemakers with real purchasing power, they're probably working moms. Would working moms actually go for something this high-maintenance?"
"Oh, you're right. I don't think I thought through the application side of things."
"Yeah, that's one thing. And then — slide twenty-five. Isn't that data a little old? The cosmetics market moves so fast that anything from three or four years ago basically doesn't count as a valid reference anymore."
"Oh… I didn't know that. Thank you. If I'd gone in with this, the client would've called me out on it again, just like last time."
"That's totally normal not to know. When I first started, I was attaching data from like five years back without thinking twice."
Eunyoung smiled.
Junhwi recognized that smile. It was the smile of someone who'd just realized how much they didn't know. The one you put on when you'd spent years being told you were exceptional, walked into the real world, and got treated like you knew nothing — and you couldn't cry about it, so you smiled like that instead.
"Thank you, Junhwi," Eunyoung said, her voice a little deflated. "You always say something kind when I mess up… I know you're trying to make me feel better. I'm sure you were great from day one."
"Oh, no, not at all—"
Junhwi didn't exactly rush to correct her. It wasn't like Eunyoung could go back in time and see how much of a disaster he'd actually been. She didn't need to know about the time he'd attached data so old he couldn't even tell what year it was from and got absolutely roasted for it.
He was fine with her believing what she believed. That he'd been polished from the start. That he was the kind of person who could put himself down a little to make a junior feel better.
"How do you just glance at something and immediately pinpoint what's wrong?" Eunyoung asked. "I went over this so many times and didn't catch any of it."
"That's what years of experience are for. By the time you've been doing this as long as I have, you'll probably be even better at it."
There was just a hint of smugness in his voice.
What Junhwi didn't mention was that he hadn't actually glanced at it just now. He'd reviewed it at home the night before, worried he wouldn't catch anything on the spot. And just as he'd feared, it had taken him several passes before he found the issues.
He felt a quiet pride at being seen as the capable senior — but underneath it, a low hum of anxiety: *What happens next time, when I don't have time to prepare?* He'd panic, stumble through some half-baked feedback, and Eunyoung would start to wonder if he actually knew what he was doing.
Junhwi smiled a little more easily than he felt, making sure none of that showed.
"The budget we got isn't much, so the target is… a bit of a stretch."
CEO Jang said it with a sympathetic expression.
Junhwi smiled awkwardly. "Yeah… it's a little tight."
*A little* was an understatement. Ten thousand units in the first week of launch, on a budget like this.
But he couldn't bring himself to say he couldn't do it. If he did, CEO Jang would launch into something about how some agency somewhere sold fifty thousand units on an even smaller budget, or how you shouldn't say something's impossible before you've even tried, or how goals are supposed to be challenging. And if he tried to explain why it wasn't feasible, she'd say people these days always had an excuse for everything. He could already hear it.
"I'll make it work," Junhwi said.
CEO Jang's face lit up with satisfaction. "That's exactly why I love working with you, Junhwi. That attitude — *let's just try it.* Why is it so hard to find people like that these days? Someone who's actually ready to lead."
Junhwi gave a faint smile and walked out of her office.
"God…"
The sigh came out on its own. What was he supposed to tell his team? They were going to be annoyed — another impossible ask, and he'd just taken it without pushing back. They'd say he couldn't hold the line, that he just accepted whatever came his way. That knowing when to say no was part of the job, and he clearly didn't have that skill. That he couldn't say a word in front of the CEO.
His stomach turned.
If he were actually good at this, he would have pushed back. He would have laid out, point by point, why this wasn't realistic. He would have held his ground regardless of what the CEO thought. But that wasn't who he was.
The reason he was still here — the reason he had this position at all — wasn't really ability, no matter what he or CEO Jang said out loud. It was that he did what he was told. And that he'd gotten lucky on a few things, and those things had happened to reach CEO Jang's ears, and she'd happened to be impressed by them. A chain of barely-connected lucky breaks. That was the whole foundation of where he stood right now.
Which was exactly why he couldn't afford to go against her.
His phone buzzed.
**Yohan:** [What time are you leaving tonight?]
Junhwi muttered to himself. *He's going to ask about beer again.*
**Yohan:** [If you get out early, drinks?]
**Yohan:** [If you get out late, still drinks?]
Junhwi had told him a dozen times that weeknights usually meant overtime, but Yohan kept texting anyway.
He started typing *working late again tonight* — and then stopped.
The new project didn't actually start until tomorrow. There was no real reason he had to stay late. His overtime had become a kind of reflex. There was always more work if you went looking for it, and somehow it felt like leaving on time meant you weren't taking things seriously.
But tonight, the thought of staying late felt unbearable in a way it usually didn't. He was already running on empty.
He tried to remember the last time he'd left at a normal hour.
He couldn't. Which meant it had probably been at least a month of straight overtime.
*One early night isn't going to make anyone think less of me.*
He typed back.
**Junhwi:** [Let's go]
"Are you serious? That makes no sense. With that budget you can barely run social media ads and search ads. You're not getting any influencers."
Yohan, who'd worked at an ad agency, shuddered when Junhwi told him what had happened that afternoon.
He chewed on a piece of dried squid and said, "That's exactly like when the school bully gives you fifty cents and tells you to come back with a strawberry milk, a cream bun, *and* an ice cream. Client is just a fancy word for bully."
Junhwi laughed despite himself.
He took a long sip of beer. "I know… I should've said no."
"…Oh, wait. My little sister just started a YouTube channel. Apparently one of her friends makes decent money off it. Want me to ask her to review the product or something?"
"…How many subscribers does she have?"
"Like… eighty?"
Yohan seemed to find his own answer ridiculous and started snickering.
Junhwi laughed tiredly. "Just tell her I'll send her the new product as a gift."
"Hey, why are you looking down on eighty subscribers?"
"I'm not looking down on anyone — eighty subscribers don't just fall out of the sky."
"Exactly. She just started. Eighty is impressive."
"Sure. The product I'm launching might not even sell eighty units at this rate. Who am I to judge."
That was more or less how the conversation had gone.
They'd laughed it off and moved on.
He did end up sending the new product to Yohan's sister. A promise was a promise.
And then he forgot about it entirely.
Right up until this morning.
"Junhwi, how did you even pull this off? This is insane."
"This is like — beyond the parting of the Red Sea."
"Has something like this ever happened before? I think you just set a new record."
Who could have guessed that the *friend who makes decent money off YouTube* that Yohan had mentioned was beauty YouTuber Saerom?
Yohan's sister had posted a review of the first sponsored product she'd ever received. And in that video, Saerom made a surprise appearance. The view count exploded. The product Junhwi was managing blew past its target in three days. At this rate, it was looking like they'd clear twenty thousand units by the end of launch week.
Junhwi was dazed. All he'd done was grab beers with a friend and send a new product to that friend's sister.
He probably needed to come clean. Tell them it wasn't him. That he'd just gotten lucky.
He opened his mouth.
"Actually, I should say—"
"Junhwi!"
CEO Jang walked into the conference room. She looked at him like she could just eat him up.
"Everyone, let's give him a hand."
The team applauded. Someone even whistled.
Junhwi smiled awkwardly. This was getting harder to walk back by the second.
"When I gave you this project," CEO Jang said, "I told you — I love that attitude of yours. That *let's just try it* spirit. I'm so grateful to have someone like you leading this team."
Cold sweat crept down Junhwi's back.
She kept going. "There were plenty of reasons to say no. You could have turned it down and no one would've blamed you. Honestly, the budget and the target were both completely unreasonable. But you said yes anyway. You weren't afraid to fail. And look — this is what happens."
She put a hand on his shoulder. Gave him one of those *I believed in you all along* smiles. Then walked out.
Junhwi's head was spinning.
If he said something now, in this atmosphere — what would happen? Everyone would be so disappointed. They'd think: *Oh, right. Just luck. I thought he actually had a plan.*
*Okay. Okay, this isn't my fault. If CEO Jang hadn't said all that… I was going to tell the truth. I was. Just — calm down. It's not like I scammed anyone. It happened through my connections, right? I'm the one who mentioned it to Yohan. I'm the one who sent the product to his sister. If you really think about it… maybe I did intend for this to happen all along, in some way…*
He tried to rationalize it, but no matter how he looked at it, this wasn't his doing. It was luck. Almost entirely luck.
What if someone figured out the truth? What if they asked him to get Saerom again next time? What if they handed him an even smaller budget and expected even better results?
He felt nauseous again.
Eunyoung edged over to him, a little hesitant.
"Junhwi, you're seriously amazing… I really thought this one was going to be impossible…"
"I… yeah, I thought so too, honestly. It just — the video kind of took off on its own. Ha…"
The corner of his mouth twitched.