Episode 29: All In
My mental image of CEO Kim Yong was something like this:
A ruggedly handsome man in his mid-40s, well-built.
Dressed in a dandy style—neither too casual nor overly formal.
Wrinkles etched by a meticulous personality around his brow and mouth, with a deep, commanding voice.
But… what’s this?
I’d heard he was in his mid-40s, but the guy who walked in looked like he could be my dad’s age, pushing 50. Short, maybe mid-160s in height, with an M-shaped hairline that no transplant could save, small eyes, a wide nose, and thick lips.
Wearing what was probably expensive golf attire but looked cheap on him.
A high-pitched voice that could be mistaken for a woman’s over the phone.
“Wow, VIP’s hero! Huh? The hot potato! Wooow!”
His tone, beyond the pitch, was almost comically hyper.
Jung Han-yong, the composer-turned-CEO, lacked the gravitas of a leader, but Kim Yong seemed so light he might float away.
“Hello, sir. Nice to meet you,” I said.
He barely acknowledged my greeting, acting like he’d just spotted a celebrity, pulling his head back and repeating, “Wooow, huh?” as if drunk and starstruck.
His over-the-top reaction made me feel like a big shot.
I’d braced myself for a dungeon boss-level encounter, but this eased my nerves.
Still, I couldn’t let his demeanor fool me.
No matter how he comes across, he’s the head of the company—not someone to underestimate.
I reined in my loosening guard and waited quietly for his next words.
“Want something refreshing?”
“Yes, please.”
“Coffee? Juice?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Iced Americano?”
“Yes.”
He called an assistant via intercom to order two coffees and sat on the sofa by the table.
“Sit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s see… You’re in Team 2, so you’re right under Team Leader Jeon Min-yong?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Min-yong’s doing alright?”
“Yes, he’s great.”
“You heard you’re full-time now, right?”
“Yes.”
“Our company’s not that old, but you’re the first to skip probation and go straight to full-time, Hyun-jong.”
“Thank you.”
“Rank aside, if you do well, you get rewarded. That’s my rule. It boosts efficiency, right? Doesn’t it?”
“Yes…”
The highest person in the company hyping up the lowest felt so awkward I didn’t know where to look.
Sure, I did something big, but big enough to warrant a one-on-one with the CEO?
He’s right—good work deserves praise and reward—but as a 24-year veteran of Hell Joseon, his overly warm demeanor made him seem less authoritative, creating a paradoxical mix of emotions.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“School?”
“I’m on a break after military service.”
“In Seoul?”
“Yes, Kamsung University.”
“Hmm, Kamsung. What’s your major?”
“Tourism Management.”
“You just picked it to match your scores, right?”
“Yes…”
“Hahaha, knew it. Bet you’re blood type A too.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“You like spicy food and always finish what you start, even if it’s a hassle.”
What’s with the quality of these questions?
I never expected blood type pseudoscience to come out of a mid-40s CEO’s mouth.
“Yes…”
“I’m good at reading people, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“My knack for reading people got me this far.”
His small talk about my personal details continued even after an employee brought the coffees.
Then, suddenly, the air around him shifted, his tone dropping a notch.
“I heard from Team 1’s leader that you didn’t go to the fan signing because of a schedule, right?”
“Uh, yes.”
“You said you went because of a dream. What’s that about?”
“Uh…”
The prophetic dream excuse I’d used to brush things off kept coming back.
Repeating the lie so much, I almost believed I’d actually had the dream.
Of course, future videos are even more fantastical than prophetic dreams.
Like someone with Ripley syndrome believing their own lies, I explained earnestly.
“I dreamed GraceOne was attacked with acid, and it was so vivid and clear that I had to go.”
“Are you usually good with gut feelings like that?”
“No, it was the first time.”
“Come on, I heard it’s not just one or two things. You avoided a truck accident on a Free Sense schedule, right?”
“Uh… yes.”
“And you knew about the ChanceMaker scandal in advance, plus a few other things.”
He’d heard about those too.
It felt like my small snowball of exploits had grown larger and more exaggerated as it rolled to him.
From my perspective, this was a welcome outcome.
Kim Yong fixed me with a serious gaze and continued.
“People who’ve worked with me long enough know this, but my mother’s a shaman.”
“Oh…”
“She called me recently. She doesn’t usually read for family or close friends, but out of the blue, she said a strong wind could knock down the company’s sign and my nameplate, so I should be careful.”
From blood types and food preferences to folk beliefs.
Is this really the kind of conversation you have at a company?
As if reading my mind, he asked, “You don’t believe in fortune-telling or religion, do you?”
With his shaman mother in the equation, I couldn’t easily say yes, so I mumbled a faint “Yes…”
He nodded with a wry smile, as if he understood.
“I don’t talk about this stuff much. I believe there’s a spiritual world science can’t explain—I saw my mom, bedridden for years, fully recover after becoming a shaman. But most people don’t buy it.”
“…”
“Look, if you hadn’t stopped this incident, my mom’s warning would’ve come true—the company’s sign would’ve fallen. Right?”
I gave a slight nod, unable to answer confidently. He frowned, as if telling me to drop the act.
“Come on, it’s true. Do you know how packed GraceOne’s schedule is?”
“No.”
He opened his phone’s scheduler and showed me.
The year at the top was next year, not this one.
“Look, booked solid through the end of next year. If GraceOne had been hit with acid, treating burn scars would’ve eaten up at least a year. All those schedules and contracts? Gone.”
“Oh…”
“I told the other staff too—this isn’t something to brush off. I’m not exaggerating; we could’ve all been out on the street. You know we’re starting a boy group, right? Your Team 2 is handling it.”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Where do you think the investment and capital for that come from?”
“GraceOne…?”
“Exactly, GraceOne.”
Why does it suddenly feel like I’m getting scolded?
It’s like getting called to the dean’s office for a scholarship due to good grades, only for the dean to yell, “You’re underestimating your potential, kid!” while piling on pressure to “lead our university to greatness!”
It’s like a massage teetering between soothing and painful.
Like speeding down an open highway at full throttle, exhilarating yet terrifying.
In short, things going too well is making me anxious.
I quickly pinpointed the source of that anxiety.
“I’ll move you to Team 1 to learn the ropes properly.”
“Yes…”
“Team 2 doesn’t have much going on. Learn the job on Team 1.”
He meant for me to join GraceOne’s team.
The legendary promotion track I’d only heard about from military officers.
I don’t know much about corporate life, but this must be the fabled “fast-track promotion.”
“Get some field experience with Team 1. Once the boy group’s framework is set and production starts, I’ll move you back to Team 2.”
“Oh…”
“You know the company has two CEOs, Jung Han-yong and me, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m telling you to ride my line.”
“Yes…”
“You get what I mean?”
“No, I understand.”
“Then why the long face?”
The chance to become GraceOne’s manager—the opportunity I’d dreamed of.
The moment my life’s biggest goal could come true.
So why do the faces of the Free Sense members keep flashing in my mind?
Seung-ah, Ah-hyun, Jin-ah, and even Seon-yu…
No.
I was just too timid to admit it, scared of betraying Min-young and GraceOne, but at some point, my goal had shifted from GraceOne to Free Sense.
It’s time to solidify my mindset and position.
“Sir… I’m sorry, but could I stay with Team 2?”
“Why?”
“I want to keep working with Team Leader Jeon Min-yong and Free Sense.”
“Free Sense?”
“It’s not about loyalty or sentiment—it’s just that Free Sense is gaining so much momentum right now…”
“Hahaha…”
Before I could finish, Kim Yong cut me off with a dry laugh, talking to me like a naïve kid.
“A few search trends and YouTube appearances mean momentum? Well, from your perspective, maybe. But you don’t get it. The company poured so much into Free Sense—thinking that’s enough for ‘momentum’ is nonsense. They’re getting a single this time, right?”
“I heard you’re the one who approves it…”
“Yeah, I greenlit it. But that’s as far as Free Sense goes. Jung’s trying to make up for his mistakes, but reverse runs and big breaks aren’t as easy as you think.”
But *
Free Sense will do that impossible thing.
I know it.
“So you’re saying no? Tell me straight.”
“Yes. I know it’s a great opportunity, but I want to stick with Free Sense.”
“Alright, I respect that. You’re sure you’re turning it down?”
Should I say it?
Should I ask him to add members and give Free Sense more support?
He said I practically saved the company—surely I can make a request like this?
I have to.
Whether it crashes or soars, I’ve got nothing to lose. Time to bet big.
“Sir…”
“Yeah?”
“Is there really no hope for Free Sense…?”
“There’s no such thing as ‘never’ in this world, but statistics and experience give you a predictable range. Free Sense is done. Their image is overexposed, and their team identity is too vague now.”
“What if we add new members?”
“That’s like pouring water into a cracked bucket. You might fill it a bit, but unless you replace the bucket, the water—aka money—will keep leaking.”
“Forgetting stats or cases for a second, what’s your gut feeling, sir? No hope at all?”
“What’s your gut feeling? You think it’ll work?”
I knew this was the final question.
This was the moment to show my conviction.
“Yes. If we make it a five-member group and start album activities, it’ll work. No, it will work.”
“Pfft, what, you saw that in a dream too?”
He asked jokingly, but I answered with dead seriousness.
“Yes. I saw it.”
“Huh?”
“I know I’m in no position to make this kind of claim, but… if we go with five members and it doesn’t take off…”
“If it doesn’t?”
All in.
“I’ll work at VIP for free for life to pay that debt. Honestly, I’d sell my organs to fund the production if I could.”
“Oh… look at this guy!”