Yokai Come to the Countryside Café

Chapter 32: Rookie (2)

(It’s just like I said! What the hell is that!)

(Oh my? It looks like a raccoon dog?)

(Raccoon dog? Let me see! It really is one!)

On the video conference camera, the worst-case scenario was unfolding: even people from other departments, including the manager and section chief, had gathered and were watching my screen.

(It’s cute. Are you raising it?)

“No. It just drops by sometimes to eat leftover rice.”

I had no idea how to recover from this, blinking blankly, when Section Chief Lee, who liked animals, threw me a lifeline with that question.

(Wow, it really must be out in the sticks. I used to see raccoon dogs waiting by the slop bins when I was in the army. Back then—huh?—raccoon dogs in the kitchen were basic, but we’d also get eagles, wild boars, and sometimes even bears.)

(Manager Cha, there you go exaggerating again. You think we never did military service? Where would a bear come from in Korea back then?)

(Didn’t I tell you? There was a bear farm near our base, and one of them escaped. Ah, Manager Park wouldn’t know—he was stationed in the rear.)

(Why are we bringing up frontlines and rearlines here?)

(Enough, let’s wrap it up. Manager Park Jongmyeong, really? Also, Manager, don’t you have your monthly report meeting with the Executive Director today?)

(Ah! I completely forgot. Let’s end the meeting here. Chief Kim, please make sure to carefully review the data coming in from sales. Oh, Chief Kim, you’re coming to the office tomorrow, right?)

“Yes, I have something to discuss with Development Team 3.”

(Alright, then see you tomorrow.)

“Thank you for your hard work.”

The cams on the screen turned black one by one, and only then did the chaotic video conference end.

I quickly closed the window and dashed outside.

“It’s really Jinseong this time!”

Then I grabbed Sanyi’s cheeks and tugged them side to side as she greeted me excitedly.

“Ow ow ow! That hurts!”

“What were you doing hanging on the window like that! Other people saw you!”

“That’s strange. There was only Jinseong in the study, so how could other people see?”

“No, that’s…”

I was working from home, and I was at a loss trying to explain to Sanyi that her figure had been clearly captured on the webcam.

“Ugh, never mind. I still have some work to do. Don’t hang on the window. I’ll make you food when I’m done.”

“I don’t need food!”

“Huh?”

This was Sanyi, who always begged for food whenever she came to the café. And now she didn’t need it?

“I need this.”

Sanyi unfolded a piece of paper she was holding.

“You need a phone?”

-Nod nod.

Well, even though it was just for gaming, both Ria and the Elder had one. It was definitely unfair that only Sanyi didn’t.

But I knew it instinctively. The problems that would come if I gave Sanyi a phone.

I must not give her one.

Of course, I had plenty of excuses not to.

The area around the Divine Tree on Mount Gyeryong is a strictly protected zone where all radio signals are blocked.

Forget phone calls—walkie-talkies barely work.

On top of that, both soldiers and shamans take turns standing a kind of guard at the Divine Tree, so if there’s something urgent, you can just tell them.

But all those reasonable arguments wouldn’t work on the stubborn Sanyi.

“Wait just a bit. There’s a really good phone in the storage room. I wasn’t going to give it to anyone, but I guess I have no choice.”

“Really?”

I went into the storage room next to the kitchen and began fumbling through boxes I hadn’t unpacked since moving in.

These were boxes filled with things I thought I’d never pull out again, but now I was digging through them for the second time in two days.

“Here it is. Ta-da.”

“This is my phone!”

“How is it? Pretty big, right?”

“Woooow! It’s way bigger than the fox’s!”

What came out of the box was an electronic dictionary.

It had been super useful during my school days, but it hadn’t been turned on in over ten years.

But if it still worked, then this would be a massive win.

I plugged in the charger and carefully flipped the power switch.

-Beep beep.

It worked. And it worked perfectly.

“This thing has a feature where you write a message, and it automatically translates it into another language. You could talk to people from China, Japan, or America. Cool, right?”

“That’s amazing!”

“But you can’t send messages directly. You have to show it to the other person. While you’re on Mount Gyeryong, you can show it to the shamans and ask them to pass it on, right?”

“Any yokai with a phone does at least that much!”

“I’m jealous!”

-Nod.

I nodded slightly toward Ria, who chimed in supportively.

Now that I had an accomplice, I had no choice but to sell this hard. Well, technically speaking, I wasn’t even lying.

Since the area around the Divine Tree on Mount Gyeryong is a level-one classified zone with full signal blockout, there’s no way to contact the outside world—so functionally, a phone and an electronic dictionary are practically the same.

And visually, it clearly boasted a much larger size compared to any regular phone.

“I have to brag to the fox! I’ll write it like this……”

『Search: I now also have a phone.

[Noun] A wireless telephone you can carry in your hand and use to communicate.

[Synonyms] Mobile phone, cell phone.』

“I’ll send it for you.”

Watching the entire process of the letters typed into the dictionary’s search bar getting photographed by Ria’s phone and sent to the Elder made me feel a bit guilty, but this was the best solution.

Because I couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of chaos Sanyi would cause if she were connected to the internet.

-Ketalk.

「Ria: (photo)

Fox-Grandfather: Was it that raccoon dog punk?」

“Wooooow! The message really sent! I now have a phone! I’m so happy I need to dance!”

“That dance again?”

“Ahem~ The fox turns into a beauty~ The raccoon dog also disguises as a scholar~ Ahem~”

Sanyi began the song and dance she only performed when she was truly elated.

Waving her front paws left and right in a cute, sky-piercing dance—I hadn’t seen it since she last ate pork cutlet.

There was a chance she might realize something was off later and start whining again, but seeing her so happy meant I could consider this matter resolved.

Now the only thing weighing on my mind was the rumor spreading through the company.

Even though it happened close to quitting time, like any rumor, once it starts, it’s unstoppable.

At the same time, on the 20th floor of Daechun Group headquarters.

Fitting for the top floor of the conglomerate that oversaw dozens of affiliates, this space housed the chairman’s office, secretary offices, and other core departments.

Just pressing the 20th floor in the elevator made people look around cautiously and speak carefully—the floor Shin Ji-cheol stepped out onto was that kind of place.

“Is the Chairman still inside?”

“Yes, Director. Shall I let him know you’ve arrived?”

“No need. I’ll inform him myself.”

-Knock knock.

“Chairman, it’s me. May I come in?”

(Come on in.)

As the knock echoed off the wooden door embossed with an elegant design, a rich North Korean accent called out from inside, telling him to come in.

The office, with marble floors and walls, looked to be at least 50 pyeong in size.

“Did you eat anything, working this late?”

“Yes, I had something simple.”

A stout elderly man who had been swinging a golf club in practice greeted Director Shin Ji-cheol with a warm smile.

“At our age, it’s easy to skip meals, right? You should eat on time if you want to be able to go golfing like me when you get older. Come, come, have a seat.”

The elderly man set down his golf club and gently nudged Shin Ji-cheol toward the sofa with his large hand.

Then he carefully poured a sip’s worth of tea into a mismatched small teacup.

“I’ll do it.”

“Leave it be. If someone unfamiliar with the tea makes it, the taste suffers.”

-Slurp.

“So? Any progress?”

The old man took a gentle sip of the steaming tea and asked in a measured tone.

“I’m sorry, Chairman. He was too stubborn. He’s currently working both from home and at the office.”

“So even our Shin Ji-cheol couldn’t convince him?”

“……”

It was an uncomfortable truth.

Even with a promise of a solid future, Jinseong hadn’t hesitated for a moment.

When they met at that shabby old restaurant, he hadn’t even known how favored the Chairman held his department.

For Director Shin Ji-cheol, who had done anything to rise to the board, Jinseong was an incomprehensible person.

“Haha, why do you look so glum? Don’t get too discouraged.”

“For now, I arranged for an early promotion to offset any future promotion delays. But he seemed ready to quit the moment the team was harmed.”

“Not like the kids these days. There’s no shortage of punks who’d wreck someone’s perfectly good project just to secure their own spot, but this one’s got loyalty.”

“I’m ashamed.”

“Why are you ashamed? You nearly fell for it too, but you managed to hold back. You should be praised. But still, it’s troubling. My son’s useless enough as is, and now even the teacher for his successor training has gone home.”

‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it. You're saying Section Chief Kim Jinseong is teaching the successor? I thought the Strategic Planning Office was your right hand.’

“You didn’t know either?”

“No, sir. I thought you’d handle it personally, or leave it to me.”

It was a slightly arrogant comment, but Director Shin Ji-cheol had earned the right.

He and the Chairman were the only two who had risked everything when Daechun Group, originally a construction company, transformed into a miracle IT firm during the dot-com bubble.

But then, out of the Chairman’s mouth came a completely unexpected name.

“Well, yeah. That would’ve been a picture-perfect plan. But you see, even if we dress up his management skills nicely on the surface……”

-Click.

The Chairman stopped mid-sentence and suddenly opened the teapot.

Inside the ornate gold-embossed teapot was a cheap tea bag, the kind you’d find in any break room—used several times, at that.

“This rotten mindset isn’t something that’s easily fixed. Even for someone like you, there’s no guarantee, right?”

“Is Section Chief Kim Jinseong the one who’s supposed to fix it?”

“That boy’s an only son, spoiled rotten, can’t even tell crap from soup. He needs a strict teacher.”

Entrusting Jinseong with successor training was, realistically, a difficult thing.

No matter how outstanding an employee he was, he was still just a staff member.

And the other side was the only son of Daechun Group’s owner, who’d never once fallen from the top ten rankings of the business world.

Even if he was assigned the teacher role, it wouldn’t last more than six months.

He’s a deputy section chief now, but soon he’ll be fast-tracked for promotion regardless of tenure, just based on results.

For children of conglomerate families, getting hands-on training means exactly that.

It’s insurance against being labeled ‘incompetent with no real-world experience’ or ‘no tangible achievements’ during succession.

He should be wearing outstanding performance like a badge and rotating between top departments, but what could he possibly learn from a Section Chief who couldn’t even be transferred?

But the decision was already made.

“May I ask why you chose Section Chief Kim Jinseong?”

“I think it was about seven years ago when I first saw that kid.”

The Chairman looked out at the skyline pouring in through the skyscraper window, reminiscing in response to Director Shin Ji-cheol’s question.