“If you choose the promotion route, you can be promoted above the employee level. If you choose the resignation route, your rank remains fixed at ’employee’, but your staff grade increases depending on your accumulated Karma Points.”
“Ah… I see.”
If I choose the promotion route, do I end up as some kind of manager like that guy over there?
I was a bit curious about what those people actually did, but I didn’t bother to ask.
It wasn’t a path I’d ever consider taking anyway.
‘So in the end, if I want to resign, I have to save up Karma Points to buy a Resignation Ticket.’
Then, naturally, one question popped into my mind.
I slowly raised one hand.
“Yes. Go ahead and ask.”
“What exactly does… ‘resignation’ mean?”
“Just what it sounds like. You’re no longer affiliated with Karma Corporation and you’re free. As everyone hopes, you are completely liberated—at least from this company.”
“That……”
Maybe my question was too vague.
I was about to rephrase it, when Team Leader Kkaebi chuckled softly.
That’s when I realized—he hadn’t misunderstood my question at all.
“Ah, that was a joke just now. I thought you’d catch on… but I guess not?”
“How was I supposed to—”
I started to snap back but ended up closing my mouth. But unexpectedly, Team Leader Kkaebi began to stare at me intently, as if measuring something.
“Hmm… The CEO must’ve explained this during orientation. Seems like your memory transferred over a bit incomplete. Well, that tends to happen with employee types like Myung Seungho.”
It felt like he’d just insulted me, but I couldn’t be sure what exactly he meant, so I couldn’t argue.
“You’ll find out eventually anyway, so I’ll keep this brief. After I leave, access the ‘Karma Mall’ and check the list of items available for purchase. That should clear things up.”
“……”
“Oh, and the way to access the ‘Karma Mall’ is the same as using the system.”
System? I tilted my head in confusion, and through the eye holes in the half-mask, I saw Team Leader Kkaebi’s eyes curve slightly.
‘He’s smirking, isn’t he?’
“Think of the ‘system’ as the square window that appears in front of your eyes, Myung Seungho. You’ve been taught how to use the status window, right? It’s just like that.”
“Ah, yes……”
“Well, anyway, your condition’s better than I expected. That’s a relief.”
“……”
“Then, rest well. I wish you a prosperous company life and a successful resignation, Myung Seungho.”
With those words—whether teasing or sincere, I couldn’t tell—Team Leader Kkaebi vanished.
Literally, he disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Like he’d never existed at all.
“…Huh.”
It really felt like I’d been possessed by a ghost.
‘But…’
Why am I starting to feel irritated?
I quickly realized the reason—it was the words Team Leader Kkaebi had left behind.
His tone and the overall nuance felt like someone addressing a problematic employee.
“‘Better than I expected’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
All the new employees here are people who chose to die.
That was made clear from the beginning—only those who died by suicide end up here.
They must’ve each had their reasons, driven into corners of their lives.
But if even among those people, I’m considered especially worrisome…
‘Is that really concern?’
From the company and a manager’s point of view, “concern” probably means something like this:
“This guy might break the company’s rules.”
“This guy might cause trouble by refusing to comply.”
‘Employee types like Myung Seungho…’
That’s probably why he said that.
‘Unbelievable.’
No point dwelling on it—it’ll just make me feel worse.
I forced myself to erase the unnecessary remarks from my mind.
I had better things to do with my time.
“Karma Mall.”
Like checking out the ‘Karma Mall’ Team Leader Kkaebi mentioned.
***
“Here. Your next project.”
My manager tossed a script and a document envelope in front of me.
I checked the script first, and the title on the cover caught my eye.
<Protect My Sub-Male Lead!>
The title had a pretty lively vibe. Since it mentioned the “sub male lead” outright, there might be a fantasy element in it.
‘A light rom-com, maybe?’
I really wanted to dive into the script right away, but something else was more urgent—the final shoot for the weekend drama Yoo Chaemin had been filming before I possessed him.
I carefully put the script and envelope into my bag and turned my attention to the script for today’s shoot.
“The director wants a quick meeting sometime next week. The role you got is the sub male lead.”
I wasn’t sure if the sub male lead he was talking about was the same one mentioned in the title. From the way he said it, maybe not…
‘Is this one of those stories where the sub male lead becomes the main, and the main gets sidelined?’
Sounds fun. I was just about to open the script and take a closer look when—
“Hey. Don’t go preparing anything weird again this time. No point. Your acting sucks anyway, so don’t waste the crew’s time.”
“……”
“This one’s based on a webtoon, apparently. You only got cast because of your face, so just show your face and go. Got it? And if you try whining to the higher-ups for acting lessons again, you’re dead.”
My manager really manages to be a brand-new kind of awful every day.
Every time he opens his mouth, it’s gaslighting and tearing Yoo Chaemin down with every breath.
‘Is this guy for real?’
Telling an actor to just show up and flash his face?
The insult aside, the sheer lack of basic respect for actors was far more disturbing.
‘How is someone like him even working as a manager?’
“You hear me?”
While I was glaring at the manager, he happened to glance at me through the rearview mirror.
I locked eyes with him and gave a barely noticeable nod.
If I didn’t do at least that, he’d keep pestering me until he got the reaction he wanted.
Lately, I’d just been playing along to avoid him canceling my schedule altogether.
‘It’s not like I’d ask for lessons anyway.’
The manager’s words were essentially a warning not to stir up unnecessary trouble.
You’re a talentless actor, and whatever you do is just a nuisance, so don’t cause problems for the company.
Since I’d possessed Yoo Chaemin, that was always the gist of what I heard from him.
He constantly tore Yoo Chaemin down and made sure he couldn’t ask for help from anyone.
If anyone else got involved, Yoo Chaemin might stop listening to him.
But even then, it didn’t feel like he wanted anything specific from Yoo Chaemin.
‘He just wants to torment him.’
I had no idea how he ended up like that, and frankly, I didn’t care.Knowing wouldn’t change anything.
The real Yoo Chaemin probably took that kind of talk pretty hard, but I was fine.
‘I’ve heard worse plenty of times before.’
Honestly, it all just felt like petty malice at this point.
Of course, that’s only because those words didn’t mean much to me anymore.
Anyone else would’ve been deeply hurt. Yoo Chaemin likely wasn’t much different.
‘Yoo Chaemin…’
Just thinking of him left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Even though I’d never met him or spoken to him, I’d looked up some information about him after accepting the reality that I’d possessed his body.
Yoo Chaemin. 26 years old this year. Debuted as an idol at 20.
He spent nearly four years in obscurity until one of their songs unexpectedly blew up, bringing the group into the spotlight.
Even before that, his good looks got him mentioned here and there and even some TV appearances, but nothing really stood out.
Riding the wave of their viral hit, the group released a new song, but the reaction was lukewarm.
The next album completely flopped.
Still, as the group gained some popularity, Yoo Chaemin’s looks became even more well-known.
Perhaps trying to revive his fading fame—or maybe just trying to do something before it all slipped away—Yoo Chaemin switched to acting.
‘And the result was… well…’
While his poor acting was widely criticized, other group members started leaving one by one.
Now only two remained at their current agency: Yoo Chaemin and one other member.
I got curious and checked his messaging app, but there was no group chat, and he didn’t seem to keep in touch with any of them.
‘Though… this doesn’t really concern me.’
It was clear things hadn’t ended well between Yoo Chaemin and the others.
I’m sure there had been many incidents and conflicts leading up to that point.
Yoo Chaemin seemed to have valued his members and missed them too.
But me? I didn’t.
‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with my future, there’s no need to stir things up.’
If a former member reached out, I planned to ignore it.
Even if things had ended badly, they shared years together.
If someone sensed something was off, it’d be a big problem.
Honestly, any human with a shred of awareness would notice.
That the Yoo Chaemin in front of them wasn’t the same person they knew.
I also looked into his family situation.
His parents divorced when he was young, and he was raised by his maternal grandmother—who passed away a few years ago.
He wasn’t in contact with either parent.
In other words, he had no real family.
‘And he doesn’t seem to have any close friends in the industry either.’
No friends, it seemed. That part hit a little close to home and made me feel a bit sad.
Anyway, it was safe to say I wouldn’t be sweating over interacting with people who really knew Yoo Chaemin.
The only thing I needed to focus on was his acting career.
‘First priority: erase the “terrible actor” image.’
That image was a serious problem, but ironically, Yoo Chaemin’s fame as an actor wasn’t all that bad.
In showbiz, indifference is death, so even criticism is better than nothing.
Thanks to his good looks, people kept offering him roles despite his lack of skill.
In fact, most of Yoo Chaemin’s recent work had been webtoon-based dramas.
If he could show even a little improvement in one of those, there was definitely a chance to turn things around.
To do that, even if the agency couldn’t help, they at least needed to stay out of my way.
But I wasn’t sure if the agency was competent—and the biggest problem was sitting right next to me.
‘That guy needs to go.’
It was clear the manager held significant sway over Yoo Chaemin within the company, and that was the problem.
If he decided to actively sabotage Yoo Chaemin, he had more than enough means to do so.
In fact, it already looked like that was happening.
It was odd that someone with Yoo Chaemin’s level of fame didn’t even have a dedicated coordinator or stylist.
‘And the way he said, “You’re doing this next project,” instead of asking if I was interested…’
If firing the manager didn’t lead to better prospects, I’d have to leave the agency entirely.
‘The issue is… there’s an awkward amount of time left on the contract…’
If I got tied down by contract disputes, things would get complicated.
Ideally, I’d finish out the current contract smoothly.
Though, again—that depended entirely on what the manager did.
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