Manager Kim stared down at the ruined Studio.
The floor was a mud field, and the ceiling had fallen, leaving only wreckage.
Something that should never have happened had happened.
The one bit of luck: the building itself wasn’t compromised. A detailed inspection would be needed for a proper diagnosis, but when this place was built he’d poured more effort than anyone into safety and security. A mess wouldn’t be enough to bring the building down or make it dangerous.
This happened because of that damned renovation.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say every room in the building connected to every other. Aside from the big hall and cafeteria, the pool and the training rooms—originally built to handle large numbers—every other room had its bearing walls placed with future expansion in mind.
On paper, anyway. In practice, this was the first time they’d actually tried to expand.
Past projects had run at most three days, with roughly twenty attendees—small enough that expansion wasn’t necessary. The big hall and cafeteria were sufficient for hosting; and since sex was the main purpose, most people preferred rooms where they could keep things discreet. Even the so-called Special Rooms set up for various play rarely exceeded two thousand square feet unless it was a full-on orgy.
So building a large Studio for Eden and the Board Quiz Show had been a gamble in its own right. That’s why they’d brought in the top expert in the country and had the contractor finish everything, leaving only grunt tasks the onsite staff could handle.
“Where’s the person in charge?”
“What do you mean, ‘can’t reach’?”
“They shut down the company. Changed all their contact info.”
Deputy Lee Daeseong scratched his head.
“We’re tracking hard. We’ll have him soon,” he added quickly.
“Drag him in. No matter what. If the Director gets to him first, we’re screwed.”
Manager Kim growled low.
“Yes, sir. Don’t worry.”
Deputy Lee bobbed his head.
He said it and stepped out of the Studio, stomping through a puddle in his knee-high boots on purpose.
Watching his back, Manager Kim sighed.
The ceiling collapse could be handled once they had the responsible party in hand, but the “incident” that showed up in the quiz show—that was the real headache.
They’d definitely done a pre-check; he had no idea how something like that had slipped in.
Honestly, he still didn’t know why the Chairman had blown up like that.
All of the cases used in the quiz show were tied to the crew, which made it even stranger.
Of all times, the Chairman’s order to shut it down came at the climax of the most exciting case. Director Gwak Tan had personally cut the system.
Manager Kim had been inside the Studio at the time; before he could even be confused, Director Gwak summoned him and raked him over the coals—how had “that case” gotten in?
Only after checking the script did Manager Kim frown. It was the same Fisherman—yet not the Fisherman he’d last seen in the script.
The case had been swapped without his knowledge.
Section Chief Park Taehun had collected and organized the materials to send to the scriptwriter, and only after getting the Chairman’s advance approval did he hand them over. The writer then composed the script off that approved packet.
So someone had changed out the script.
There was a rat inside the project, apparently. He’d tried to avoid that suspicion, but after this, he couldn’t.
If nothing else, at least the field of suspects had narrowed.
Manager Kim smiled, bitter.
Most suspicious, of course, were the HQ executives.
Was the Security Captain truly trustworthy?
Were Deputy Lee and Section Chief Park beyond flipping?
And what about Director Gwak Tan, the overall lead on the project?
Was he really on the Chairman’s side?
Or was he deliberately creating accidents to seize the project for himself?
The most plausible hypothesis.
And entirely possible.
Clicking his tongue, Manager Kim shook his head.
Right now, rehabbing the Studio came first.
“Section Chief Park. Pull every available body and clean the Studio.”
Everyone except Crew Zero Team—call in the rest of the crew.
The orders were concise. Googlᴇ search novel※fire.net
If a Studio cleanup solved the problem, great. Unfortunately, this was the tip of the iceberg.
There was a mountain Manager Kim still had to cross.
The moment that word came out of the Chairman’s mouth, Manager Kim’s head began to throb. Even in perfect conditions the game was tough to run, and now there was a rat in the house and a ceiling collapse in the air.
In this state, anything could happen. It wouldn’t stop at a few injuries. In the worst case, they might not be able to hold The Party at all.
Would the guests sit still for that?
Absolutely not. They were people who’d swallowed their pride and sat for multiple interviews just to be selected. After that, they’d cut weight and hit strength training to build their bodies.
All to attend The Party. Little emperors who’d never interviewed for anything in their lives and rarely heard a harsh word—who’d borne that humiliation. Eight months of waiting, for this one Party.
Money didn’t matter to them. People drowning in money wouldn’t be satisfied with a few consolation payments. If they were the type who cared only about money, he wouldn’t be having this problem.
Hoo. Manager Kim took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat.
The guests had watched the Studio collapse live, and they were furious the game had been stopped in the heat of the most exciting run. It was the first game since the project began that they’d participated in directly; apparently that made it more special.
To make it worse, the Security Guards who should’ve been rescuing the Sailors had all rushed outside, so Crew Team 1 was shoved into the rescue scene instead. The guests mustn’t find out the Security responsible for the building’s safety had vanished from the interior, so they hurriedly put masks on the crew. Thankfully the ruse seemed to have worked; no complaints about Security were filed.
Only after barking orders did he realize the Young Master was included. He’d missed the timing to pull him out and ended up throwing the Young Master into danger. He’d nearly lost his head for it. The thought still made him dizzy.
Anyway, with things on a downhill slide , there was no way they could run Hide-and-Seek.
But how was he supposed to convince the Chairman?
The Chairman looked, on the surface, like the type who listened to and respected his subordinates—but in truth he never listened to anyone. His word was law, and life.
More than anything, the fact he’d bypassed Manager Kim—the Chairman’s right hand and the Paradise Project’s operations lead—and given orders directly to the Security Captain said everything about how firm his will was.
Maybe I should ask the Young Master for help.
With a heavy heart, Manager Kim left the Studio.
At the same time, Security Captain Choi Sucheol visited 3rd Platoon with five elite agents in tow.
The Chairman’s sudden summons had come at 4 a.m. From then until just moments ago, Choi had conducted one-on-one interviews and inspections with every member of Security’s 1st and 2nd Platoons.
Security was divided into three platoons. 1st Platoon (15 men) and 2nd Platoon (20 men) handled the building’s interior/exterior and the inside of the perimeter fence, respectively. 3rd Platoon (15 men) patrolled outside the fence. Altogether, Security numbered fifty. All lived in their own dorms on site, but their shifts were staggered.
For 1st and 2nd, thirty men—everyone except Captain Choi and his five elite—worked three shifts. 3rd Platoon ran two shifts.
Because 3rd Platoon patrolled outside the fence, they were “outsiders,” with zero knowledge of what happened inside. Outsiders were hard to handle, and, above all, hard to keep quiet.
By sheer luck, 3rd Platoon’s leader, Hwang Seungmin, was tightly bonded with his men. On top of that, he and Choi trusted each other to the death, which meant Choi could run his force without ever having to raise his voice.
Even at the Chairman’s surprise inspection order, Hwang stayed loose. That’s how much he trusted his people.
Having pulled an all-nighter, Choi used the inspection as a pretext to rest and drank the instant coffee Hwang made him.
In any case, 3rd Platoon was on a different radio frequency, cut off from the interior, and they weren’t even allowed entry inside the fence. There was no actual need for Choi to interview them.
“Seungmin, I can count on you, right?”
“Sir, please. If you’re really suspicious, confirm it yourself. We’re solid.”
Hwang handed over three binders with the personnel files for himself and his platoon.
He knew the same info lived in the tablet PC Choi carried, but he clung to analog anyway. And though they were close friends on the outside, trading “hyung” and “dongsaeng,” here he always addressed him as “Captain.”
A man who knew the line. Soldierly.
“As you know, we’ve got ex-cons and sons of bitches with nasty tempers, but betrayal? Never. If they were that type, I wouldn’t have picked them.”
He wasn’t offended; if anything, pride swelled for his men.
Background checks were the Chairman’s domain anyway; Choi had no need to weigh in.
Now, if one of 3rd Platoon had hopped the fence—that would be different.
“If I don’t trust you, who would I trust?”
Choi didn’t even touch the binders.
“Your coffee’s the best.”
Beyond being a fine soldier and junior, there was another reason Choi favored Hwang: the man took no interest in anything outside his assignment.
Get close to people and they start crossing lines, sticking their noses in, angling for kickbacks—it was everywhere. Hwang had never done it, not once.
Whatever happened inside wasn’t his business.
“We’ll be running Hide-and-Seek soon.”
At Choi’s words, Hwang simply nodded.
“Not even a mouse is getting through the fence we guard. Not a pinhole. So run it with peace of mind.”
He hefted the only firearm issued to him: a 12-gauge shotgun. Only platoon leaders received them, and thanks to modifications its firepower was ten times that of a normal shotgun.
The shotgun was reassuring—but that guy was a weapon all by himself.
Even hidden ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) under black fatigues, the rock-solid body showed at a glance. Choi clicked his tongue; hand-to-hand, without guns, he still doubted anyone could beat him.
Then Choi’s radio barked.
The order: Basement 3’s ceiling had collapsed and the power was out; join restoration immediately. But unless you were already guarding the interior, there were only three men left down there now.
Except for the five who’d come with Choi, the rest of 1st and 2nd Platoon were still standing by in the dorms after their interviews. That was per the Chairman’s orders.
Manager Kim, apparently unaware, sounded flustered.
As the Paradise Project’s operations lead and the Chairman’s right hand, he rode people so hard your ears scabbed over. His digs at Choi—a former Special Forces officer—were especially hard to swallow.
If not for the Special Forces senior who’d introduced him to this work three years ago, he would’ve rammed back. Tch.
Once Hide-and-Seek starts, he’ll be awed by what I can do.
Choi was aiming to seize this chance to make himself shine in the Chairman’s eyes and get his cut.
“Seungmin. I’m counting on you. Let’s do this right.”
Choi clapped Hwang on the shoulder and left 3rd Platoon’s post.
Shaped like a mountain lodge, the post sat where you could look clean over the perimeter. Strangely, you couldn’t see inside the fence at all. Not a pinprick of light. The terrain masking was perfect.
Well, if you’re going to do something that filthy, of course you hide it deep.
Choi pictured the healthy-bodied prettyboys living it up inside and grimaced.
Guys like that needed to be worked to the bone in the army to rebuild their heads. Tch.
He felt bad, as if it were his own business.
With a solid junior and five of his best, Choi left the post.
The digital watch on his wrist announced exactly 4:00 p.m.