Surviving Restructuring

“Is there truly something we can do to help?” a man asked, drenched in sweat and blood, as if he had just returned from hunting monsters.

He was a large, broad-shouldered figure known for his Protection skill, always standing beside Myung Seung-Tae. His name was Park Jun-Su.

“Up there?” Jun-Su asked hesitantly.

It was one thing to take the pregnant and sickly Choi Min-Young, but to move all several hundred people here?

“Yes,” Eun-Ho replied calmly. “Up there.”

Someone gulped, which echoed in the tense silence like thunder.

Jun-Su’s face was set, as though bracing for something immense. “What would we need to do?”

“Nothing,” Eun-Ho answered.

“Pardon?”

He had come to ask them to do nothing at all?

“You said you needed our help,” Jun-Su insisted. “We may not look like much, but if you tell us what to do, we’ll give it everything we’ve got!”

Eun-Ho felt like he had not explained clearly enough. He approached all two hundred and sixty survivors remaining in what had once been called the Fantasy Land, drew a measured breath, and began.

“Since you are classified as contract employees, you have to remain on Earth,” he said evenly. “You’ve been hunting monsters without end, completing trials, and settling accounts with the points you’ve earned. Is that correct?”

The survivors nodded.

“Y-yes.”

“That’s right!”

[Sector 13, restructuring and training have been completed!]

[Among 7,874,965,732 participants, 100 permanent full-time and 77,191 temporary employees have been selected.]

Those who weren’t granted regular positions were dropped back into this hell. Suffice to say, there were a considerable number of them.

If matters in the Personnel Bureau had not gone smoothly, Eun-Ho had even considered collecting their signatures as well. He remembered the report Ji-Eun had glimpsed during her OJT with the Investigation Bureau.

“They said that once the restructuring process ends, black rain would fall. Rain that corrodes civilization and rewinds anything alive.”

He also recalled Harona’s words from the Management Bureau OJT.

“There’s no choice. This is the best option for them too.”

Combined with the corruption reports from Cho Bok and the former Personnel Director’s data, the pattern became clear.

Rain and contract workers... Eun-Ho thought.

From the company’s perspective, the roles between administrators and contract workers were not so different. When monsters inevitably emerged on abandoned land, the contract workers were sent in like janitors, sweeping away the refuse. The only difference was that the administrators also collected sponsorship funds from observers through the Eyes.

It was a purification process. Once restructuring ended, someone had to clean up what remained. The rule had hardened over ages untold. It was the most efficient structure, built by destroying and absorbing countless worlds.

“But why?” Jun-Su asked.

Eun-Ho’s gaze sharpened. “We’re going to change that structure.”

Jun-Su’s pupils wavered. “C-change it? Is that even possible?”

Murmurs spread through the crowd akin to dye dropped into water.

Min-Young’s fever-bright eyes widened with urgency. “I’ll help!”

Meanwhile, Min-Gyu seemed about to leap forward. “If we change it, what happens?!”

Eun-Ho noticed that they did not even ask how he intended to change it.

Following that, a series of notifications flickered before him.

[Employee Choi Min-Young expresses heartfelt gratitude for your grace.]

[Employee Jung Min-Gyu engraves your consideration deep into his bones.]

[They have entered an Absolute Loyalty relationship.]

Absolute loyalty? Eun-Ho thought.

If he said the sun rose in the west, they probably wouldn’t even question it. Eun-Ho had assumed it was just them, but the others’ reactions were not so different.

“We’ll go too!”

“Anything’s fine! If there’s even a shred of hope we can leave this place!”

Perhaps, all they wanted was something or anything to believe in. Hope was a scarce resource in hell.

Eun-Ho grew solemn. He could not plant false hope in those who had staked their lives to survive. “There is something called the right to strike.”

“Strike?” Jun-Su echoed.

“Not only is it a labor union’s final safeguard, but it’s also its most powerful card,” he continued, voice steady, “In this company, everyone’s position is strictly defined. If someone leaves their post or fails to fulfill their role, they’re punished.”

Punishments varied, including deletion during restructuring, salary cuts, disciplinary measures, and even termination in severe cases.

“But what if everyone left their posts at once?” he asked quietly.

“Everyone?”

“For example, what if every contract worker across Sector 13 disappeared?”

That logic applied only when the company functioned normally.

“What?!”

He pressed further. “And what if not just Sector 13, but every contract worker vanished? What if even the regular employees at headquarters, the ones who work like ants, stopped all at once?”

“T-then...” Jun-Su faltered.

“The company system would grind to a halt.” Eun-Ho concluded. “Do you think they could fire that many employees at once?”

“Maybe not?” someone ventured.

He studied their faces. “It’s worth testing.”

[Survivor group awaits your statement.]

[Average loyalty: 99%]

The survivors of hell had offered their loyalty after a single act of aid.

“Our lives are at stake here,” Eun-Ho said.

“Our lives... I see.”

Jun-Su clenched his fist as if resolved, then suddenly went pale.

“What if the Administrators find out?” he whispered urgently. “And settlement is coming soon.”

Eun-Ho understood that Jun-Su kept his voice down so as not to spread his fear. “First, the Administrators already know.”

“Huh?”

“Are you insane?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Just because you’ve gotten a little more important, you think you can act like this? If you take those guys away, what about our team’s performance? What are we supposed to do about our results?!”

“The administrators were furious,” Eun-Ho admitted. “But I persuaded them for now, by calling it a week of vacation.”

If it were discovered, Eun-Ho would claim sole responsibility and the administrator would be framed as a victim.

“I see...”

“Don’t be so disappointed,” Eun-Ho added. “If this succeeds, vacation won’t matter.”

“Yes! We trust you!”

Fear and doubt flickered in their eyes, but they were quickly drowned by hope.

“Second,” Eun-Ho continued, “I couldn’t eliminate settlement entirely.”

“Contract workers need points to prepare for the settlement. That’s why they have to keep doing trials, and why sponsorship is essential.”

Contract workers required points to avoid deletion, which was why they could never leave their posts for long.

“It’s okay, Eun-Ho,” Min-Young said weakly but firmly. “Those with enough points can go first. The rest of us can stay and keep doing trials—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Eun-Ho cut in gently, staring directly at her. “The official reason will be construction and event support. If you help, you’ll be paid daily wages.”

“What?!”

“The situation has changed,” he said.

The rest of the crowd voiced their concerns.

“B-but that would burden you...”

“And you’ve already saved our lives...”

“Y-yeah they’re right. Plus, how can you manage this many people’s daily wages? That’s impossible”

Eun-Ho shook his head. “It’s possible.”

“Seriously?!”

“We had a good haul recently,” Eun-Ho said lightly.

More precisely, he had swallowed an absurdly large sum.

A notification window rose in his vision.

[Biometric authentication has been completed.]

[Would you like to transfer the Arena account balance of 57,494,900 Points to Team Leader Lee Eun-Ho?]

***

Inside the dim office, only a small floor lamp by the desk cast a muted yellow glow. A wide wooden desk stood buried beneath towering stacks of paperwork. Beneath it, Harona swung her legs idly, half-hidden behind the piles.

“Why did you do it?” Seung demanded from behind her.

She pressed her hands over her ears, as though trying to block out artillery fire.

“Lady Harona!”

She snapped. “Shut it. My head hurts!”

“I absolutely cannot stay quiet about this! Absolutely not!”

“Ugh!”

Bang!

Harona slammed her palm against the desk and shouted, “You saw the presentation, didn’t you?! You were swayed too, so why am I the only one getting chewed out?!”

Seung’s shoulders twitched ever so slightly from remembering that presentation.

“According to the performance evaluation data, Lady Harona, you had failed to meet your targets for three consecutive years.”

“Where the hell did you even get that data?!” she had demanded at the time.

Eun-Ho had remained calm. “Even so, you’ve defended your position well. Aside from you and Administrator Ju Gwang, most of the others are scraping the bottom.”

The personnel evaluations were classified to the highest degree. No one knew how the man had accessed them.

“Regardless, this is the first time you’ve met your goal. And 58.7% of that was due to me.”

It had been infuriating because it had been true.

“More importantly,” he had added, “you are currently exceeding your target.”

“Yes, because of you, so stop bragging—”

“My point is,” he had cut in smoothly, “if you stack more performance now, next year’s quota will only increase.”

She had been speechless. What kind of rookie employee schemed like a veteran serpent who had survived a century in the company?

“Can you exceed this year’s performance without me?” he had asked quietly.

She had not been able to answer.

“Let’s work strategically. For both our sakes.” Eun-Ho had waved lightly. “I’ll borrow them for a bit.”

Saying so, he vanished, leaving only the afterimage of his back.

Seung snapped back to the present.

“Fine! Let’s say all that makes sense,” he said urgently. “But if the contract workers stop clearing monsters, won’t the world’s order collapse?”

Harona leaned back into her plush chair and folded her arms. “He said he’d handle it.”

“Excuse me?”

Harona closed her eyes as if the matter was already settled. “He said he’d clean up everything that’s piled up in a week.”

This time, Seung was the one left speechless as he stared at her.

“Stop opening and closing your mouth,” she muttered. “It’s loud.”

“Okay...”

“And if you’re done, get out. I’m busy.”

A moment later, she opened her eyes and picked up her fountain pen again. Seung couldn’t take his eyes off her as she calmly sorted through towering stacks of paperwork.

Without thinking, he blurted, “You seem especially lenient with Eun-Ho.”

Harona paused, casually saying, “Well, I’m just curious.”

Then, a strange expression flickered across her face. It was the faint curl of her lips, her lowered gaze, and the distant look in her eyes.

“I wonder how far that runaway train will go?” she mused.

“Pardon?”

“How far it has to go before it finally stops. When, how, and by whom it will be broken and brought crashing down.” She tilted her head slightly. “Aren’t you curious?”

The subtlety of her tone lingered.

“Do you think he’ll stop?” Seung asked quietly.

Harona smiled far too brightly. “Who knows?”

***

The Wailing Forest was buzzing like never before.

“It’s too far right! Lift it ten centimeters!”

“Like this?!”

“Too much! Lower it five!”

“Bo-Ra! They’re short on stone at the eastern tower! We need at least thirty more!”

“Got it! I’ll bring them!”

The clearing had widened after the recent battle, and was filled with neatly stacked firewood, planks, and sheets of iron.

“Skeletons!”

“Yes!”

Swoosh—!

“For the commander!”

“Huh?”

The defeated stragglers hauled in massive stones, which the Skeleton Knights then cut into shape.

“Unnie! Help me!”

Ji-Eun helped lift blocks into place with her ability. “Psychokinesis!”

“Forest Guardians! Please lend a hand!”

Even the Forest Guardians joined in, hauling dozens of stone slabs at once.

“By the master’s will!”

“By the master’s will!”

“By the master’s will!”

It was a chaotic symphony of labor, which included former stragglers’ manpower, team members’ abilities, and even the forest’s strength.

Nearby, Jae-Hyuk stood proudly in front of a tall military-green tent, sweat soaking through his clothes. “Hehehe! The defensive camp has been completed!”

His chest swelled with pride as he admired the temporary shelters prepared for the contract worker.

High school girls and Lee Ye-Ji moved briskly through the crowd, organizing the newcomers.

“Should we divide them by continents?”

“Huh? By what?”

“Forget it. Europeans, follow me!”

“Africa this way!”

“Oceania? Please gather near the flag!”

The place bustled like a marketplace—loud, busy, and chaotic, yet not unpleasant.

“Hey! Cha Jin-Sol! You bastard, still alive?”

“Watch your mouth. Have you eaten yet?”

Some who had parted unwillingly reunited here.

“Unnie!”

Some embraced and wept. Others stared awkwardly at the ground. They all shared one thing: hope blooming on their faces.

Eun-Ho felt the familiar, almost cliché satisfaction of hard work rewarded as he stepped forward.

Thuuuuud—

A vibration rang through the air, shaking the soul. The yellow-haired tattooist, who had been swearing while handing out food, froze mid-motion. His hair faded to pale gray.

The world lost its color and sound, and everything stopped except Eun-Ho. It was a monochrome world with time halted for all but him.

If a being possessed power on this scale, it must be... Eun-Ho thought.

The voice came from nowhere and everywhere.

“Let’s have a little talk.”

Eun-Ho exhaled slowly.

“I figured it was about time,” he said calmly. “Though I didn’t expect you to come in person.”