The morning began with an official memo.
Subject: Internal Evaluation Interviews
From: Renner, Strategy Division
To: All Department Heads and Team Leads
As part of ongoing review initiatives, individual employee interviews will be conducted across departments over the next few days. Your cooperation in coordinating schedules is appreciated.
Polite. Clean. Completely unremarkable.
Which was exactly why it unsettled everyone.
By ten a.m., the whispers had started again.
"Why him?"
"Strategy doesn't usually do this."
"I heard even veterans are getting called in."
"No way this is just restructuring."
Someone muttered succession. Someone else said audit. A few went straight back to the favorite theory—the hidden conglomerate angle wasn't fake after all.
Yoo Minjae stood in the corridor outside a small boardroom, back against the wall, folder resting against his thigh.
He wasn't scheduled until the final day.
That alone was suspicious.
Renner didn't delay variables he considered neutral.
Minjae flipped the corner of the folder absently, eyes unfocused.
The lab acquisition was buried.
The funding trail was sealed.
Upper management backed off without a fight.
Renner had complied too easily.
That was the problem.
"Thinking loud thoughts again?"
Minjae glanced up. Yuri stood nearby, arms crossed.
"I'm thinking quiet ones," he replied.
She studied his face. "You're at the end, right?"
"Yes."
"Lucky you."
"That's one word for it."
She didn't joke further.
The first day passed without incident.
Founding employees went in and came out looking more amused than concerned.
"He asked about the early mergers," one said, laughing.
"And whether we miss the old cafeteria," another added.
"Tea talk," someone concluded.
Minjae listened and said nothing.
The second day was different.
Mid-level managers. Team leads.
The tone shifted.
Seori was by the elevator when one of the operations leads leaned in and spoke quietly.
"He asked about Minjae-ssi."
Seori's expression didn't change. "In what way?"
"Not performance metrics. More like…" The woman searched for the word. "Context."
Yura, stepping out of the elevator behind them, frowned.
"Context how?"
"He asked, 'What role does Yoo Minjae really play on your team?'"
The woman hesitated. "It didn't feel like HR."
Seori nodded once. "Thank you for telling us."
As the elevator doors closed, Yura exhaled sharply.
"That's not normal."
Yuri's jaw tightened. "He's triangulating."
Minjae, working three floors below, had no idea the questions had begun circling him directly.
On the third day, recently promoted employees were called in.
Yura went first.
She sat straight across from Renner, hands folded neatly in her lap.
"Congratulations on your promotion," Renner said, voice warm.
"Your trajectory is impressive."
"Thank you," she replied. "I earned it."
"I agree." He scrolled through her file. "You've collaborated closely with Yoo Minjae."
"Yes."
"How would you describe his leadership potential?"
She didn't pause.
"Exceptional."
Renner looked up. "No qualifiers?"
"None."
"And his adaptability?"
"Frightening," she said plainly. "In a good way."
Renner smiled faintly. "So I've heard."
Yuri went in that afternoon.
"Do you find Minjae's thinking too independent?" Renner asked.
Yuri leaned back. "No."
"Not at all?"
"He thinks like someone who's lived two lives."
Renner's fingers paused over the tablet.
"That's an interesting way to put it."
"Just a vibe," she said. "You collect those?"
"I prefer data."
"Then ask him directly," Yuri replied coolly.
Renner chuckled once. "Duly noted."
Seori was next.
"You were in HR," Renner began. "Your insight carries weight."
"So does discretion," she replied softly.
He nodded. "Do you trust Yoo Minjae?"
"Yes."
"Would you tell me something he wouldn't?"
"No."
That earned a longer pause.
"That answer sounded prepared," Renner said.
Seori met his gaze. "It's called loyalty."
Renner marked something on the tablet and gestured toward the door.
By the fourth day, the company had fully given up on subtlety.
"Director-nim," someone whispered theatrically as Minjae passed.
Someone else had drawn a crest in the break room—three roses, a shield, and the motto:
CHOSEN BY FATE
Seori erased it without comment.
Yuri took a picture first.
Yura sighed. "We're never living this down."
Minjae didn't respond.
The final day arrived.
Late afternoon. Soft light through the boardroom windows.
Minjae entered alone.
Renner stood to greet him.
"Thank you for waiting."
Minjae sat. He didn't touch the water.
Renner folded his hands. "Let's not pretend this is routine."
"I wouldn't insult us both," Minjae replied.
Renner smiled slightly. "Good."
He straightened.
"My name is Renner," he said. "But not as your executive."
Minjae's gaze sharpened—just a fraction.
"I'm your subordinate."
Silence.
Minjae didn't blink.
Didn't move.
But something shifted behind his eyes—old, vast, and deeply controlled. Like something enormous acknowledging it had been seen.
Renner continued, voice steady.
"I know who you are. Or at least… what you've been doing."
Still nothing.
Renner inclined his head—not submission, but respect.
"And I think," he said sincerely,
"you're doing a remarkable job, Director Yoo."
The silence held.
Waiting to see who would speak first.