Genius of unique lineage Chapter 253

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Genius of a Unique Lineage

Interview Day

“When I started my first job, my annual salary was 22 million won. You might think, “Where can you find such a salary these days? Does that even meet the minimum wage?” But it precisely did, considering meals and other benefits as part of the salary package. After working for exactly three years, my salary increased to 25 million won. Do you know how much that makes monthly? 2.2 million won. Just 2.2 million.

But, the day before yesterday, I went to a department store to buy a coat. Do you know how much it cost? 250,000 won. They say it wasn’t even expensive. I hesitated about five hundred times before deciding whether or not to buy it because it felt too costly for me. My dream is to get married and have two kids. But honestly, isn’t that impossible? I even considered moving to the countryside, but is finding a job there any easier? And the cost of living isn’t cheap there, either. Really.

I read the job posting. I am good at cleaning.”

There was a modest table set in front of the information desk on the first floor. The interview commenced with the candidate earnestly speaking while standing, with no need for a chair. He had an ordinary face, about 175cm in height, and beneath his clothes, a considerably bulky physique. His resume, which he carried, indicated his hobby was working out. At the end of his long speech, I was the one to conclude.

“Accepted.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You’re hired. Start tomorrow.”

The man blinked in surprise, then bowed his head and exclaimed, “I’ll work so hard I’ll sweep the floors with my tongue!”

No, why would you sweep the floor with your tongue? You should use a vacuum cleaner.

“Thank you!”

Bow!

His bow was filled with vigor. With that, he turned and left.

Even as he walked away, he gave another bow!

He bowed with an exclamation mark’s enthusiasm.

“Why did you accept him?”

The information desk sister sitting next to me asked.

She was the one who initially lined up the candidates, but the group included several of special species.

How could I pass that up? So, I called in the staff for vetting.

Right now, the enforcement team outside was managing the situation.

When the crowd of reporters asked if I accepted a crime eradicator, I confirmed and the uproar intensified.

The company’s public recruitment attracted throngs of reporters.

Well, I couldn’t say that’s bad.

“His nails were clean and he smelled nice.”

“Is that all?”

It was clear from her expression that she couldn’t comprehend the basis of the selection.

I evaluated everything from fingertips, attire, eyebrows, scents, to demeanor.

Into that judgment, the intuition of an immortal is woven.

It’s not on the level of future foresight, but a realm of intuition and sixth sense, combined with the olfactory sensitivity of a transformative species; all senses focusing on one person.

Thanks to this, I could tell.

This person will clean well. Exceptionally well.

In my view, he has a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

While he rants about his poor circumstances, I feel that’s not the end of his story.

Most people probably feel the same way.

At least he was the best of the people I’ve seen so far.

When a man claimed he worked at a securities firm, an inspection revealed he had been fired for messing around with client money.

His actions spoke volumes about him, and he didn’t seem like a normal guy to me.

He looked like the type who would stab you in the back at the first opportunity.

There must be criteria for conducting an interview.

Brother Panda said just fulfilling one of those criteria is enough.

Loyalty, faithfulness.

Unless under life-threatening circumstances, there should be no betrayal of the company.

“So, just one person?”

Stephen Choi, whose talent for discerning good candidates was well-established, murmured.

“Shall I bring a tent and interview all-night?”

Infodesk sister continued.

I was unaware before, but she was a type full of passion, attractive in appearance—and it appears she has a touch of immortal blood in her.

Anything less than a quarter is usually considered human.

I had an idea about how to utilize the insight I gained from the man who seemed to be good at cleaning.

“There’s no need for that.”

“How come?”

Brother Junko asked.

With so many people crowding outside, it’s essential to reduce the numbers.

I had assessed roughly twenty people so far.

We would indeed be insufficient even if we worked through several nights.

I stepped outside.

The door opened, cold air flowed in; the weather seemed to step backward from spring.

Clouds filled the sky, suggesting rain could make things gloomy.

As I stepped out, everyone’s eyes fixated on me.

I opened up my senses.

Seeing with eyes, listening with ears, smelling with the nose.

Touch sensing the wind, and the sixth sense scanning the others—this usually focused on one person to detect any incongruity was now extended to include all.

My head throbbed as I stuffed surrounding information into my brain; it felt like my skull would crack open.

I closed then opened my eyes, switching gears.

Just go with the gut feeling.

I have experienced so much thus far.

And through those experiences, I’ve faced many special species.

Ignored are those regular humans who come in disguise.

Among those gathered here, just weave out the ones with malicious intentions and send them away.

Could it be done? I wouldn’t have been sure earlier, but now, yes, I could.

How? Stir up alertness. Target those special breeds that immediately trigger suspicion on sight.

“Miss, on the third row, fourth from the start, go home.”

“And the lady in the second row, eighth from the start, too.”

“And the gentleman in the sixteenth row, ninth from the start.”

Waving my hands, I began to speak, half-squinting, relying on intuition.

“Why? Don’t I even get a chance to interview?”

A young man questioned me, his voice filled with frustration.

“Do I need to undo your shape-shifting? Wouldn’t the illusion break if I shake your head?”

“…No.”

Quietly, the man prepared to leave.

Was he a spy sent by the association?

Not my concern. My job was to sort out those who instigated a visceral sense of caution.

And I continued with the same process.

“You’re discriminating against us!”

Someone cried out before I could address them, opting to leave.

“You don’t pay money to commit suicide!”

They complained bitterly.

“Honestly, not even for a fortune would I work here.”

And so, the clamor influenced something within those waiting.

“If this company offers such a danger allowance, then I’d even cross the River Styx!”

This was said by a middle-aged man in a shabby suit.

“No, but what’s your reason for applying?”

“Personal secretary.”

“…Wow, I almost laughed. Are you a comedian?”

The one who mocked him maintained a brash demeanor.

I intervened between the two.

“Wow. What’s going on?”

While standing abruptly, I stared intently at the man mocking the personal secretary applicant.

The smell, attitude, gestures—taking it all in.

“What?”

The nervous man asked as I locked eyes with him.

“Accepted.”

“Me?”

“No not you, the other guy.”

I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

“…Me?”

This time, the wannabe secretary was surprised.

“Me?”

He asked again.

I turned around.

Was he in the midst of hair loss, judging by his prominent scalp?

Was this gentleman planning on becoming bald in this day and age, where just consuming medicine could solve such issues?

“You don’t have to be an attractive woman to be a personal secretary.”

“Am I really accepted, then?”

“Yes. What’s your specialty?”

An impromptu interview ensued.

“Eh, well, I’ve done a bit of everything.”

“That’s great. You’re multi-talented.”

“And how is that multi-talented?”

The one from earlier muttered sarcastically.

“Sent by the association?”

“…”

If he wouldn’t speak, what could be done?

Special species with unique abilities, the scent they emit, the demeanor they present.

Even the response to my current question.

Caught red-handed.

I couldn’t tell immediately where someone belonged.

Of course, recognizing assassins or terrorists is relatively easier.

They’re straightforward because they come with a purpose.

“How do you know?”

“I guessed, and I was right. Disqualified.”

I finished and sent him away.

I repeated the process.

The number dwindled rapidly.

There were so many people who loathed the success of my company.

Some of them were spies, some of them were intent on spreading rumors.

But all their efforts were pointless.

The man who just got hired as a personal secretary—his words were true.

These working conditions and compensation ignited people’s passion.

Many of those present had resolved to succeed at all costs, treating life-threatening dangers with indifference.

“What other company provides such a danger allowance?”

Someone’s words resonated as the truth.

A living allowance, a danger bonus—thinking of it that way made sense.

And so, I hired people.

One personal secretary on that day.

Ten for building cleaning.

Plus fifty for office management, interpretation, and trade-related tasks fitting for Brother Junko.

Stephen Choi cherry-picked the right people and established a personnel team.

The overall corporate structure was orchestrated by Brother Panda.

Everything fell into place like a flash-fried bean in a thunderbolt.

There were mountains of tasks ahead, starting with buying office supplies, yet it was rapidly accomplished.

Was this why Liu Bei recruited Zhuge Liang even after visiting him three times?

A good counselor is someone who prepares well.

Brother Panda did just that.

Of course, Brother Junko and Stephen Choi contributed too.

Infodesk sister helped by sorting out candidates for the cafeteria and cafe.

“From today onward, you’re an associate. I’ll be setting up a first-floor management team.

“Am I an associate right from the start?”

She laughed and murmured again, looking at me,

“Thank you, CEO.”

She spoke with her cheeks turning a slight red, which nearly made my heart skip a beat, but I quickly composed myself.

Isn’t she a bit far from my type?

Besides, we’re just good friends.

But leaving the first floor as it is does seem risky.

There had been previous instances of unwelcome intrusion, including the attack on the information desk itself.

As the events settled, I realized I should consider whether the building’s floors should be reorganized.

But that would have to wait until later.

Once Kyungnam, Miho, Johan, and Guitae arrived, would things roughly be coming together?

Oh, and we can’t forget about Hyemin and my two tutors.

I hope they’re not getting beaten up somewhere.

They do check in occasionally.

I reassured the log teacher who went to Brazil that he could return if it got tough. He replied,

“You’ve grown up a lot, Gwang Ik.”

As for the stick teacher, I warned that if someone bothered him, he should tell me.

“Sure. I’ll definitely tell you.”

He replied firmly while clenching his teeth.

I spoke half-jokingly, half-concerned.

People lack wit.

They take entertainment seriously.

“Mom, don’t your friends inherently lack sense?”

“They’re all too serious. That’s how they are.”

Mother sure knows how to sympathize.

Truly, she is the greatest.

In any case, screening people on interview day took a fortnight.

Afterward, the rumor had journalist Shin Ju-ho extremely busy.

It’s not the end of the story when you choose someone; of course, they need investigating.

What if someone employed in the cafeteria ended up poisoning the food?

Investigations were mandatory.

Interview day.

The journalists and news outlets labeled the events with that name.

A total of 16,800 people swarmed the NS interview day.

Indeed, nearly a fortnight passed to complete the interviews.

During those fifteen days, I furiously weeded out potential hires.

Thus secured the personal secretary.

His educational background was a high school diploma.

But his efficiency at work was formidable.

“Shall I bring you some coffee, CEO?”

“No, I’ll go see Dong-hun.”

Director Dong-hun, that is.

The formidable gentleman first pointed out issues with my titles.

We shouldn’t do this outside, he said.

So, Brother Panda became the director.

Mother is also a director.

“Yes, Director.”

As I exited my personal office, Brother Panda, with darkened under-eyes, met me.

“I was on my way since you haven’t been around, CEO.”

I might even need to get him a personal secretary too.

“What’s up? Why can’t we talk over the phone?

I told him to take a break after finishing, but he claimed there was no time.

What could I say when he was working so hard?

“What about recruiting people for my personal information team?”

I tilted my head slightly.

If he wants to do it, that’s fine. If Brother Panda says he’s on it, I naturally nod.

But why is he so hesitant?

“Those kids.”

“Which kids?”

Brother Panda meant the children he had taken in, those living as criminals being used as test subjects.

Experiment subjects.

He’s the one who spent all the money he gathered to take care of those kids in an orphanage.

Was this act done out of a sense of duty?

I don’t know his innermost thoughts, nor do I desire to.

Instead, I offered an alternative.

“Let’s build a nursery and training center right next to the new building you’re constructing, where you can care for the kids. How did you find each of these experimental children anyway? Leave it to the investigation team.”

An investigation team was established under the information team.

The team leader is, of course, journalist Shin Ju-ho.

That gentleman ended up placing his entire family within our ranks.

It’s not just 1.5 million won on paper, the recruitment guidelines clearly state it—every available position has a different salary.

Of course, the welfare benefits are the same.

NS employs everyone as full-time staff, from janitors to executives.

So, of course, everyone is eager to join the company, even willing to surf the River Jordan if that’s what it takes.

“Is it okay if we do that?”

“But.”

There is no fun in a reward without conditions.

After all, it’s not easy to accept kids already living in the world of illegal and criminal acts outright.

“But?”

“One month of training under the director.”

Brother Panda grabbed me by the collar of my shirt at those words.

“Hey, you.”

He muttered, biting his lower lip.

The training director is my mother.

Brother Panda, without uttering another word, looked down, trembling his pupils, and lowered his head.

Letting go of my collar, he said,

“Okay.”

His voice had completely lost its energy.

What choice was there? Mostly special species with control issues over their natural instincts, and transformative species used as test subjects—the least we could do is make sure they’re civilized.

In this field, mother is unparalleled.

After all, she was dubbed the rehabilitation witch.

“Oh.”

Brother Panda sighed.

I chuckled.

“Ah, and let’s change our floor structure too.”

Since we were on the topic, I brought up another matter.

“What structure?”

It wasn’t a complicated plan, and Brother Panda nodded soon as I explained.

“Sounds good.”

He was receptive to the idea.

I thought it was a good idea too.

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