Chapter 44: The Ideal Leader (１)

****

This is the mahogany door recovered from inside the library of the forgotten city. The door believed to hold a passage leading to the Temple of Truth.

The door was made of brown mahogany, decorated with ivory ornaments and the like. I studied it closely. A work of art far more detailed than I’d expected. Faint geometric patterns were etched across its surface.

Four researchers were gathered around the door. I frowned.

“So, have you found a way to open it?”

“We are getting a response. There’s an anomalous gravitational wave reading, and it’s affecting reality metrics as well. It seems to require a large number of books in the vicinity to exert its supernatural effect.”

Magic is intuitive.

After all, magic is born from human consciousness and the unconscious. This is no exception. A door exists to be opened.

An object that looks like a door should be treated as a door until proven otherwise. Still wearing my mask, I placed my hand on the mahogany door.

“So it’s impossible to determine what’s on the other side? And it’s never been opened before?”

“Correct.”

I grasped the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Though something—a different light, a different air—was seeping through the cracks of the mahogany door.

“Do we have a power drill? If we can’t open the door, we could just bore through it. Then we could stick an endoscope through the hole.”

“Uh…”

The research team tilted their heads.

“Would that work?”

“Nothing to lose.”

The researchers from the Safe Artifacts Department stared at the mahogany door. One of them was recording something on a tablet.

“We’d prefer not to damage the artifact just yet. We’ll continue our research on our end.”

“Mm, alright.”

I thought for a moment.

Based on the measurements, the door is currently connected to somewhere. It’s simply closed. There must be a way to see past a closed door.

“Can we insert an endoscope through the gap? Something extremely small, like an ophthalmic surgical endoscope.”

Ophthalmic surgical endoscopes are less than 1mm in diameter. If we have a flexible endoscope of similar size, we could insert it through the gap without damaging the door. Then we’d see what’s inside.

“We hadn’t thought of that. With that, we could certainly see what’s beyond the door… Let me look into it.”

Dr. Kim scratched his head.

“Alright.”

“I’ll contact the Medical Department right away.”

The researcher who’d spoken picked up a phone.

A brief phone call.

“We got a response! They think they can feed an ophthalmic endoscope through the door gap. It should be connected by this afternoon.”

“Thank you for your work.”

I nodded. At least there’s some progress today—we caught an anomalous reaction from beyond the door. By afternoon, we’ll be able to see inside the dimensional gate. We’ll find the truth.

****

Research work is research work. But what really matters today is drafting an official document. The Precognition Division and Recovery Section 1 lost many personnel, and other departments weren’t without casualties either.

It’s also a kind of apology letter.

I didn’t directly command the military operation, but I was the one responsible at the scene. I can’t escape responsibility for the dead.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up.

Aide An from the Director’s Office was watching me. Aide An is a man old enough to be my father, with gray starting to show in his hair. Both by my original age and by my appearance.

I gave Aide An a brief greeting.

“Sigh. I need to write a condolence message for those who died in this operation. I also need to think about new recruitment for the decimated Recovery Section 1 and Precognition Division.”

Aide An thought for a moment.

“Hmm… The condolence message can’t be helped. I think it’s best to write it honestly.”

“Yes.”

“Just say it plainly. Compensation will proceed per procedure, and the upper echelons will take responsibility. There’s no other way.”

That’s true. No words will bring the dead back, and I don’t know if anything I say will offer comfort.

“Recruitment is a somewhat complicated matter. Given the Foundation’s nature, open hiring isn’t feasible, so the Intelligence Division, Human Resources Department, and the relevant department all have to be involved.”

Ah, so that’s how it works.

“Then what should I do?”

“First, go see Human Resources Department. They’ll have a prepared list of candidates, so you can either meet with the candidates first or ask them to add candidates to the list.”

My workload just grew.

First, I’ll review the candidates for new recruitment. If necessary, I might have to ask for additional candidates to be added.

I took out my notebook.

“Thank you, Aide An.”

For now, I’ll need to talk to Human Resources Department.

****

Human Resources Department was in a state of emergency.

Human Resources Department is one of the best positions in the Foundation. You don’t strictly need a doctorate, and military experience isn’t required either.

Compared to its simple qualifications, Human Resources Department holds broad authority. There’s just one problem: dangerous situations arise fairly often.

The Foundation has countless things that resemble humans. The Foundation’s containment system, its peculiar employees — all of it is the Foundation’s human resources.

All of that, broadly speaking, falls under the Human Resources Department team’s jurisdiction.

Of course, there wasn’t exactly an urgent crisis at the moment. But Human Resources Department, true to its reason for existence, had a duty to prepare for contingencies.

“What are we going to do?”

“Let’s stay calm first. Even for Human Resources Department, we can’t order the Director around.”

“This isn’t a situation for calm. The Head of Research was detained and released wearing a collar, and the Precognition Division and Recovery Section 1 have been wiped out. If these vacancies get filled with personnel under Dr. Geum’s command…”

The Human Resources Department meeting room buzzed with murmurs.

“There’s no way to stop it.”

“She participates in research, so she earns the researchers’ support. She participates in operations, so she earns the soldiers’ support. Isn’t she the ideal leader?”

There was some division within Human Resources Department itself.

A stance favorable to Dr. Geum, and a stance that handing everything over to a newly arrived humanoid anomaly was rather dangerous.

“What is this? ‘Keep Foundation executives human’ — is that so hard to uphold? It feels like just yesterday she came in as a researcher in the Director’s Office, and now everyone’s calling her Director.”

“That’s because she works in the Director’s Office.”

“Ideal or not, look at the situation objectively. Facility 82 is being controlled by two non-humans — Adjutant Nanami, an artificial personality, and Dr. Geum, an anomaly — isn’t it?”

The HR Section Chief pressed her temples.

These idiots. What exactly do they intend to do?

“Honestly.”

“So what are you going to do about it? I mean, you people can barely change the water cooler bottle — what are you going to do against two Deicides with military escorts?”

“We can raise the issue, can’t we?”

“Foundation headquarters won’t do anything. The Seoul Branch’s leadership problem, which they’d been racking their brains over, has finally been resolved.”

“Wait, isn’t it true that the Precognition Division went to the field and got annihilated this time because Dr. Geum gave reckless orders as a form of discipline?”

“Do you have evidence? Isn’t it a fact that the Precognition Division missed a major incident that killed tens of thousands of people?”

“What—”

“Do you take the Precognition Division for fools? The Precognition field team could have carried out the operation. Casualties came from an unavoidable accident.”

“How badly cracked is your head?”

The voices of the Human Resources Department staff arguing grew louder. The HR Section Chief let out a deep sigh.

“Section Chief. What do you think?”

“Everyone, shut up.”

The meeting room fell silent.

“Anyone who wants to oust Dr. Geum and request a personnel review — who wants to call Foundation headquarters’ human resources department directly — raise your hand.”

No one did.

“Anyone who wants to go to Dr. Geum in person and tell her that a personnel review must be conducted and she needs to comply — raise your hand.”

No one did. The HR Section Chief slammed the meeting room table, and the Human Resources Department staff flinched.

“Well… If no one wants to actually do the work, why are we holding a pointless meeting here? Shall we disband?”

Silence.

“Anyone who wants to help Dr. Geum’s Director’s Office, restore a broken department, and just collect a paycheck — raise your hand.”

The Human Resources Department staff exchanged glances. Here and there, hands went up cautiously.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand how the others felt, but facts were facts. The HR Section Chief let out another sigh.

“Everyone, disband. That’s an order.”

The HR Section Chief pushed back from her seat and left the meeting room. The others gathered their things in a subdued shuffle.

The conclusion had been reached.

****

[Notice of Condolence]

[Filed by: Geumbari]

[To all Foundation personnel at Facility 82:]

[During the operation conducted at Yulje-myeon, multiple deaths occurred under my command. The responsibility is entirely mine. I apologize. If you have questions about the operation, the Director’s Office will answer them in good faith.]

[Our deepest condolences.]