An interview was, at its core, a battle of wits. Whether it was for a corporate job, a university admission, or even a part-time position—it was all the same.
The interviewer asked questions designed to extract the answers they wanted, while the applicant deciphered the hidden intent behind those questions and delivered a response that struck at the heart of it. One had to persuade the interviewer that he or she was the kind of person they were looking for.
“I must see whether you are fit to lead the new era.”
At that moment, the most important thing was to figure out exactly what kind of candidate the interviewer wanted. Only then could one prepare the right experiences and answers.
If this were a normal company, they’d be looking for things like job competency, diligence and communication skills.
However, this one was different. The position they had applied for was not that of an ordinary employee but the chairman, the one who determined the company’s fate.
They were not looking for humility or diligence, but boldness and expertise.
“You said you resolved systemic issues while serving as Acting Chairman. What issues, specifically, and how did you resolve them? And among those, explain in detail the role you personally handled.”
Then, the ideal candidate I should present now is a professional chairman with strong problem-solving abilities.
Fortunately, these were things Eun-Ho did not lack. He trusted the countless voices he had heard while building the Labor-Management Cooperation Team. He trusted the data he had accumulated while leading the union. He also trusted the experience of having led the company, however briefly.
Alright.
He steadied his breathing and said calmly, “I identified three major systemic issues within the company.”
Talking about oppression or employee rights here wouldn’t work. He had to start with measurable performance.
“First, over the past thirty years, the rate of failing to meet revenue and profit targets has been steadily increasing.”
Eun-Ho’s tone remained composed, but the Guardian Dragon’s porcelain-like face stiffened.
“You resort to shallow tactics.” Her voice was cold as frost. A chill seeped into his bones, but he didn’t stop. “The company has met its targets every year. Tight, perhaps, but achieved nonetheless.”
“That is true,” Eun-Ho acknowledged. “However, if you examine each department in detail, the situation is quite different.”
From that alone, he realized something: the being before him was omnipotent, but not omniscient. That made things simpler.
He had studied this company more thoroughly than anyone. Even if his interviewer was a god, she couldn’t possibly surpass those who worked on the front lines, analyzing and struggling through real problems.
“The company’s external revenue comes from two main sources. The first one is content sales from the Sales Bureau, and the second one is streaming and sponsorship revenue from the Management Bureau,” Eun-Ho explained.
He straightened his shoulders, saying confidently, “There is a problem the previous ones may have overlooked, but I would not. In both Bureaus, more than half of the departments are failing to meet their targets.”
“What do you mean? The company as a whole met its targets, yet individual teams failed?”
“It means a small number of departments are carrying the entire company,” Eun-Ho said. “The VIP Sales Team is the most prominent example.”
“For sure the VIP clients are profitable.”
“To be precise, ninety-one percent of the Sales Bureau’s revenue comes from VIP clients.”
“And what is the issue with that?”
From one perspective, there wasn’t one. As long as the company as a whole performed well, it did not really matter where the money came from.
“Yes, it is a problem,” Eun-Ho said firmly.
However, in truth, it was a serious one.
“The VIP clients know that if they cut ties with us, we collapse. In exchange for consuming our content, they demand discounts below standard pricing. And the Sales Bureau has been complying because they have to meet their annual targets.”
The moment a company became dependent on a handful of clients, its growth ended. Landing even one VIP would have been a major success at the beginning. However, this company had already stagnated.
“So what?” she asked.
It had to change.
“Meanwhile, as we focused all our efforts on VIP sales and management, we lost our general customers entirely,” Eun-Ho said.
“Then...”
“We’ll become even more dependent on VIPs. And to keep them, the discounts will increase further. It would be the same amount of work, the same volume of sales, but declining profits.”
The Guardian Dragon said nothing.
“I believe we need a breakthrough.” Eun-Ho could feel that she was listening to every word. “So, I initiated new business ventures.”
“New business?”
“I scrapped all sixty-eight internal projects that were previously conducted for annual improvement reports and reorganized them into eleven new business initiatives focused on generating revenue and profit. The key projects include—”
“Eleven?” the Guardian Dragon muttered, as if incredulous. “That’s an impressive strategy. Tell me. Are you saying you came up with all of that yourself?”
He understood the intent behind the question.
Eun-Ho then recalled how she had summoned the screen earlier to verify the company’s condition.
“I suppose I will see for myself.”
He also remembered her earlier demand as well.
“And among those, explain in detail the role you personally handled.”
The real test had begun.
Besides valuing reliability, she’s also the suspicious type, Eun-Ho pondered.
She seemed to be the kind who refused to believe anything unless she saw it with her own eyes. In that case, Eun-Ho would show her.
Fwooosh—!
“Please take a look at the screen,” Eun-Ho said.
Annual Internal Improvement Report
Annual Internal Improvement Report
Annual Internal Improvement Report
...
“Aren’t those all the same report?” the Guardian Dragon asked.
“These are the regular reports the secretary’s office conducted every year,” Eun-Ho explained. “As you can see, the titles and the contents are more or less the same each time.”
The screen shifted and the Guardian Dragon’s gaze followed the movement of his hand.
Project 2.0
It displayed the newly overhauled roadmap for the year.
“This is the internal improvement roadmap report we conducted a few days ago,” Eun-Ho said.
“The goals, project items, financial analysis... All of them are completely different.”
Anyone with eyes could tell that everything including the project contents, profitability analysis, expected outcomes was newly created.
“Out of these, I was responsible for restructuring the overall strategic direction, redefining project objectives, and securing resources,” Eun-Ho continued, “more specifically, I handled profitability improvement plans and GTM strategies for projects one, two, three, give, seven, eight, nine, and ten.”
He said as concretely as possible, “And based on these projects alone, we expect company revenue to increase by seventeen percent year-over-year, with profit margins rising by twenty-eight percent.”
“When will those profits materialize? There must be a period required to recover the investment,” she asked.
“We’ll recover all investment costs within a year,” Eun-Ho replied. “We’ve identified methods that require no additional capital. Would you like a detailed explanation?”
“We’ll move on.”
Good.
Eun-Ho went on. “Second, there were issues regarding employee job insecurity, excessive workloads, and unfair wages...”
***
The Guardian Dragon was astonished. She had told him to be specific and to explain in detail, yet he spoke with such effortless fluency.
He’s like a fish in water, she thought.
At one point, she even caught herself nodding along to his outrageous claim, in which increasing employee wages would raise company profits.
Startled, she quickly raised her hand. “Enough. That’s enough.”
The ticking of the clock echoed through the room.
Realizing she would get swept up if she let him continue, the Guardian Dragon glanced at the evaluation window floating before her.
[Subject: Lee Eun-Ho(Evaluation: Pending)]
- Job Competency:
- Problem-Solving Skills:
- Communication Skills:
- Leadership:
- Initiative:
...
There was still a long way to go, so she moved on. “Next question. Choi Jae-Hyuk.”
Jae-Hyuk straightened up like a shocked large dog. “Y-yes!”
The Guardian Dragon decided against asking him, then turned to Eun-Ho. “No. You answer first.”
“Understood,” Eun-Ho said.
She had only one reason for returning to him.
He’s not easy to handle, she thought.
It was obvious that his mind worked on an entirely different level. If she let the others answer, he would undoubtedly refine his responses further.
She couldn’t allow that. “Have you ever experienced failure in your life?”
A question about failure was the one meant to assess mindset and resilience. Someone as sharp as him likely lived with confidence in his own abilities. For such individuals, questions that forced them to reveal their weaknesses were the most effective.
“If you have, explain how you overcame it. If not, you may skip.”
The latter half was a subtle trap that would immediately mark him as lacking in challenge and growth.
“I have,” Eun-Ho said without hesitation. As expected, he had seen through it. “I spent most of my childhood training to become a track athlete. Then, due to an accident, I lost both my parents and my leg...”
Yet he showed no trace of darkness, she thought.
She had thought he was someone who thrived on his own confidence. It was unfortunate, but that alone wasn’t enough.
This question was meant to reveal whether someone persisted despite failure. However, such an experience didn’t demonstrate challenge, as it risked appearing as mere stubbornness.
This was his mistake, she thought.
Yet his answer took an unexpected turn. “When I first entered society after that, what was more difficult than the work itself was the gaze and prejudice of my colleagues.”
Prejudice. So he’ll say he worked hard despite it?
She expected a predictable story about opening up, building relationships, achieving teamwork.
“Since I walked with a limp, it was impossible to change those perceptions,” Eun-Ho said calmly. “The contracts were short-term to begin with, and people didn’t have the luxury to closely examine the few strengths of someone they considered weak.”
It seemed Eun-Ho’s idea of challenge differed from others.
“I arrived at the office earlier than anyone else,” he continued, “I was already working before others came in, and I didn’t even drink water during work hours to avoid going to the restroom.”
“Don’t tell me you were trying to avoid being seen walking?”
“No.”
That was not even close.
“I just wanted to be good at my job. I finished everything assigned to me during that time and even sought out additional work. They seemed to like that.”
That made sense. For some reason, the Guardian Dragon nearly let out a hollow laugh, barely holding it back as she moved on.
Tick—
The rest of the interview followed the same pattern.
“What are your strengths and weaknesses?” she asked.
“My strengths are persistence and problem-solving skills. My weakness is that I tend to handle difficulties on my own rather than expressing them...”
Of course, he talked about a weakness that barely counted as one.
“A customer demands a refund for content they’ve already experienced. What do you do?” she asked.
“I would first apologize for any inconvenience and identify the cause of dissatisfaction. If it’s something I can resolve, I would address it...”
His approach was customer-focused, yet without harming the company.
“Sell me this pen,” she said.
“You must be working hard as an interviewer. However, to objectively evaluate our responses, it might be best to record them using this pen...”
He even flawlessly demonstrated sales ability, something that became more important at higher levels.
He’s perfect, she thought.
At first, she wondered if it was mind-reading. However, it wasn’t as he was answering things she herself hadn’t even considered. In fact, he was delivering responses that went beyond what she had imagined as ideal answers, without hesitation.
Even with mind-reading, that level of performance would be impossible. It almost felt as though he had known these questions in advance, gone back in time, and spent days preparing for them.
Tick—
As the clock continued its steady ticking, only one thought filled the Guardian Dragon’s mind.
Where on earth did someone like this come from?
***
Tick— Tick— Tick—
At some point, the questions had stopped. Only the steady ticking of the clock echoed through the space a few more times, until the Guardian Dragon’s heavy voice finally broke the silence. “There is no point in continuing.”
Eun-Ho suppressed the smile tugging at his lips and straightened his posture.
Her blue eyes, which looked down at him, held a strange mix of surprise and something close to resignation. “I have one final question.”
Her voice was as calm as the depths of the ocean. The final question seemed to be the last gateway of the long trial.
Eun-Ho listened intently, ready to give whatever answer was required.
“What kind of world do you wish to create?”
However, the god’s final question had no answer.
The world I wish to create...
Eun-Ho’s mind drifted back.
“To ensure that all of us are guaranteed lasting safety. Not lives where we are tossed around like toys, barely clinging to survival, but lives where we are truly free.”
It was what he had told those who had trusted and gathered around him when he first formed the Labor-Management Cooperation Team.
“So that we can live as human beings again just like in the old world.”
His heart and his resolve had not changed since then.
“A world where people can live as human beings,” Eun-Ho answered.
Then, now, and in the future, that was the world he dreamed of. It was not just for himself, but for everyone.
“The trial is over.”
Fwoosh—!
The clock vanished and the space plunged into darkness. The world disappeared without warning.
When his vision returned, they were back in the cavern. Everything was the same as before, except for one thing. Something that hadn’t been there earlier now captured his sight, his hearing, even his sense of smell.
“Is this the reward you desire?”
Surrounded by an auspicious, shimmering haze stood an object. Flowing across its surface was a liquid brilliance, as though every gemstone in existence had been melted down while somehow retaining its individual color.
There was a box, and it slowly opened.
Creak—