Chapter 12: Overtime (3)

"First, we need to establish a clear reporting system and standardized report formats," I answered in a confident tone as if I knew everything there was to know about the world.

Which was hilarious, coming from a fifteen-year-old punk who hadn't even been here for two weeks.

"Once the reporting system and formats are established, subsequent work processes will become more efficient. For example, there will be no need for the Senior Brothers to personally visit each county to assess situations like they do now. They'll only need to review reports submitted to upper management and check for any discrepancies with the actual situation."

As I spoke, I modeled my explanation on the modern bureaucratic system of the Republic of Korea.

"There is a need for specialization. Assigning all tasks to a single individual in each region is inefficient. This is where the detailed reporting system and standardized formats I mentioned earlier will come into play."

With such specialization and division of work, dozens of departments would naturally emerge.

"Each field department can then communicate the situation through reports, and the higher-ups can process the work based on the reports they receive."

As a result, the blame-shifting work system that plagues the modern-day Korean administrative departments will emerge. Work will be delayed as reports travel from the field to the highest level, and interventions by middle managers seeking to avoid 'responsibility' will often lead to reports being lost or altered beyond recognition.

"Furthermore, assigning the same task to someone indefinitely increases the risk of corruption. We should rotate assignments and transfer personnel between departments and regions regularly to prevent the formation of close ties with local influential figures or those in related industries."

This was actually one of the most burdensome aspects for Korean civil servants.

Department rotations under the pretext of preventing corruption.

In reality, these transfers were a nightmare for civil servants, primarily due to the lack of proper handover procedures.

"With a well-defined reporting system and standardized formats, transferring between departments or regions shouldn't disrupt workflow," I asserted.

Yet, after a transfer, asking the seniors for guidance always yielded the same frustrating responses:

—Just follow the manual.

—Everything's in the format guidelines.

—I'm busy adapting to my new position. Why do you keep contacting me? Figure it out yourself.

Sure, that's understandable. Like how I was suddenly dragged to a different department, they too were forcibly moved somewhere else.

But still...

'Couldn't you at least leave behind your previous reports or files? I could learn from them...'

—Why would I leave those behind?  They're my work. Of course, I transferred them to a USB and deleted everything.

'...'

You could at least leave some traces of your work behind.

'YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!'

The memory of my own civil service days nearly triggered an outburst.

Thanks to those damned fuckers, I had endured countless nights of overtime, poring over manuals and format guidelines to adapt to new tasks. A life a billion light-years away from the work-life balance I had dreamed of.

The reality of the civil service was a far cry from its lofty ideals.

The pathological emphasis on responsibility and adherence to rigid manuals and report formats might expedite routine tasks, but it creates endless delays in handling exceptions or public complaints.

And the idea that corruption could be detected by simply comparing reports with field conditions?

As if anyone who has spent a few years in the field wouldn't know how to manipulate things to their advantage and get their fill.

While less prevalent now, corruption remained rampant, particularly in areas like real estate, architecture, and construction. Any civil servant at a team leader level or higher could easily engage in corrupt practices if they chose to.

And the solution? Departmental transfers—the most maddening system for low-level civil servants.

The reason I confidently explained this system, which is full of empty words and problems, was simple. It was because I wanted them to notice the issues.

No, even if they didn't notice the issues, it would be fine as long as they realized that the system I described didn't suit the cult

Before my death, I remembered that the “Did Someone Hold a Knife to Your Neck” meme was trending on the internet.

Before my death, I had encountered a post on an online community where a company's HR representative had lamented about new hires and interns. The gist was that excessive enthusiasm from newcomers was detrimental. A novice, still clueless about the company's inner workings, attempting to revolutionize things when you don't even know how it works just makes you look like a pathetic fool.

True innovation requires a thorough understanding of the system.

All that the senior staff really want from a new guy is for him to learn his job and figure out how things work. That's it.

That’s why I deliberately acted like the overzealous novice described in that post.

A clueless newcomer, barely ten days in, presenting a fundamentally flawed system with a superficially impressive appearance.

'They'll see me as a fool now, won't they?'

A somewhat bright but ultimately disappointing individual who tries hard but fails to grasp the crucial aspects—just another overeager rookie you could find anywhere.

I wanted everyone to see me that way, but...

'What's going on?'

For some reason, Master was looking at me with a deeply satisfied expression.

"Hahaha! Master, it seems our youngest is much smarter than we thought!"

Eldest Brother burst into his characteristic boisterous laughter.

"......"

"......"

The Third and Sixth Brothers said nothing, but one was glaring at me gloomily, and the other was looking at me with a shocked expression.

"He even considered the possibility of corruption among field operatives. Isn't this system aligned with our cult's doctrines, Master?"

As if that weren’t enough, Eldest Brother spouted nonsense while continuing his foolish laughter.

"Indeed, you're right. Humans are inherently evil. However, as the Heavenly Demon, I cannot personally inspect every cult member daily. To think such a simple solution could be found in rotating departments and regions."

Master chuckled, seemingly pleased.

I felt wronged.

I hadn’t been thinking about their stupid doctrine at all.

'I've been actively avoiding the damn scripture so I wouldn't get brainwashed!'

Wait, had I been brainwashed without realizing it?

'No. It's just that these people will interpret everything through the lens of their doctrines.'

Whether it's a cult or not, those deeply immersed in religion are all the same.

Whatever happens, they interpret it by connecting it to their beliefs, saying, "This too is the will of Heaven."

But that was beside the point. Why the hell were these people listening so intently to the random crap being spewed by a clueless kid who doesn’t know anything?

Third Brother's chilling glare was particularly unsettling.

'Well, I can kiss a good night's sleep goodbye.'

I had a feeling he might sneak into my quarters to test out all fourteen moves of his Shadowless Sword Art on my neck.

As I unconsciously gulped at that chilling thought...

"Hahahaha. It seems our youngest is even more talented than his senior brothers. We’d better work hard so we don’t embarrass ourselves in front of him!”

Eldest Brother's tactless praise continued to pour out.

I was sighing on the inside, realizing my plan to look stupid had somehow just made me the center of attention, when Master spoke up.

"As Jin-hak says, these are truly excellent ideas. However, I find it somewhat difficult to believe that you, Il-mok, an orphan and former innwaiter, could come up with such thoughts on your own."

No sooner had those words ended than the senior brothers' gazes turned to me again.

Their eyes seemed to ask what my true identity was.

My plan was to act like a moron who thought he was smart. Instead, I was coming off as a genius who was hiding something.

Maybe it was the sudden fear of death kicking my brain into high gear, but I came up with a decent excuse.

"While listening to Master and senior brothers' conversation, I was thinking about how to handle work more efficiently. My brain just kept going until it landed on what felt like a ‘perfect’ solution.”

To my immense relief, Master's response aligned perfectly with my intended narrative.

“Oh? You couldn’t stop thinking until you found the perfect solution? It must be the side effect of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword.”

“Oh! Now that you say it, I think that’s it!”

I successfully played the role of a rookie overwhelmed by the side effects of Demonic Art—one who didn't even realize the cause was the Demonic Art itself.

My act must have worked, as Master muttered "Indeed" while stroking his beard.

Naturally, the senior brothers' attention returned to Master.

After appearing to organize his thoughts, Master soon burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! It seems I've found a worthy disciple in my later years. It hasn't even been ten days since you began learning martial arts, yet the side effect is already appearing. Not only are you intelligent, but your progress in martial arts is also remarkable."

Master's lavish praise once again drew the others' gazes toward me.

"..."

It seemed the 'Youngest Brother Pretends to be Weak' strategy had well and truly gone down the river.

At this point, it was more like the ‘Youngest Brother Shows Off How Awesome He Is’ strategy.

'Or maybe the 'Youngest Brother Shows Off and Gets Murdered by a Jealous Senior' strategy…'

While I was becoming increasingly troubled by Master and the senior brothers' gazes, Master added one last remark.

"We've talked way too much on work matters during what should have been a gathering for brotherly bonding. We can hash out the details later. For tonight, let’s just drink and enjoy ourselves. Il-mok, I’ll call you in later to go over your ideas properly.”

And just like that, future overtime was officially scheduled.

* * *

Unlike a typical old-fashioned boomer, Master didn't bring up any more work-related topics after that. The only issue was that the tactless Eldest Brother kept praising me during conversations, and each time I had to face Third Brother's chilling gaze.

But for the next three days, for better or for worse, nothing happened.

There was no Third Brother visiting with a sword in the moonlit night, nor did Master summon me for overtime work yet.

And during those three days, I figured out why everyone thought I was a genius.

'I had no idea their system was that broken.'

From what I could piece together from her answers, the cult's entire administrative process was basically "make it up as you go."

In retrospect, it was hardly surprising.

No matter how outdated, conservative, and rigid the Korean civil service system might be, it was undoubtedly more sophisticated than the system of a medieval martial arts fantasy world.

Moreover, this wasn't even the Imperial Court but a cult. It was a place where if the leader said 'Do it,' things were done without any systematic process, just a 'Yes, Sir.'

No wonder they looked at my fatally flawed proposal like a caveman seeing fire for the first time.

'Damn it.'

I had my excuses. The sudden dinner gathering meant I couldn't grasp all these fundamental aspects.

But the biggest reason was that I had overestimated Master's capabilities.

It wasn't blind faith in a cult leader. It was his occasional displays of authority that had misled me. I had assumed a leader of such stature would naturally preside over a reasonably organized system.

I had underestimated the limitations of a man from a bygone era and had overlooked that no matter how great he is, an old-timer is still an old-timer.

But what's done is done.

To survive both the potential threats from senior brothers and, more importantly, the upcoming Hall of the Demonic Way examination next year, I couldn't neglect my training.

With the added threat of Master's impending overtime assignments, my time was even more precious.

So I spent the next four days worrying about when the next unwelcome visitor would arrive.

And on the fourth day, that visitor finally arrived.

"What brings you here, Miss Seon-ah?"

A cute little lady who appeared to be in her early teens had arrived.