The entanglement of equity issues stemming from investments made it difficult to remove the board members. They were the karmic burden that Cheolhwa had accumulated and handed over to Sijin — Eaton Biotech’s original sin.
“The reason I have called this meeting, having obtained the agreement of more than a majority of the board today, is……”
The one who opened his mouth was Noh Gisik. An old raccoon dog who had tumbled and rolled through private equity funds. He was the greatest source of trouble that Cheolhwa had brought in. The other troublemakers, too, let their eyes glitter as they stole glances at Sijin.
Noh Gisik dragged out his words and jerked his chin toward the facilitator standing at the auxiliary podium. It seemed something had been prepared. The facilitator fumbled and clicked the mouse. The atmosphere was peculiar.
“It is to discuss the motion to dismiss CEO Park Sijin.”
A video was projected onto the white screen. It was a news report carrying the same content as the newspaper article Cheolhwa had hurled in the CEO’s office.
―Not long ago, Eaton Biotech announced the discontinuation of production and supply of treatments for five rare diseases, causing significant public attention. In protest, approximately one hundred patients, family members, and other citizens have been gathered in front of Eaton Biotech’s headquarters for the past seven days, staging a demonstration.
The reporter delivered the situation. It was footage filmed the previous evening. At that time, the demonstrators had caught him on his way out and declared they would extract a withdrawal of the discontinuation.
The broadcasting companies had swarmed to capture this scene. Despite the Secretary General’s attempts to dissuade him, Sijin had walked out through the company’s main gate as he always did.
―At six o’clock yesterday evening, CEO Park Sijin made contact with the demonstrators. No acts of violence occurred on either side, but in the process, CEO Park Sijin made deeply offensive remarks to the family of a patient, leaving a significant controversy in its wake.
Dozens of lenses illuminated two adult women with red headbands tied around their foreheads, a young child whose head barely reached their waists, and Sijin standing across from them. A security officer moved to remove the three who had broken through the safety line. But Sijin waved the officer back.
―How old is the child?
He asked while looking at the child, whose pallor made their illness plainly evident. One of the guardians answered in the child’s place.
―Ten years old.
It was early September, yet there was still about an hour before sunset. It had been dry for days, and the air shimmered with heat rising off the asphalt.
The child, clinging to the guardian’s leg, wet their parched lips with their tongue and gasped in labored breaths. The skin around their eyes was faintly red.
―Are you hoping the child dies soon? How wise of you. That would be the rational choice, in many respects.
While the Sijin on screen delivered his words with composure, the real Sijin furrowed his brow. Hwangbo Myeong, the Secretary General who had walked out with him the evening before, also tilted his head in puzzlement.
The scene captured by the camera was true, but the editing room at the broadcasting company had reconstructed reality — to make it more sensational and palatable, to draw in a greater audience. They had cut out the portions of Sijin and the guardians’ conversation in which he had asked about the child’s medical history and the number of treatments received.
After the initial diagnosis, the guardians had taken the child to the hospital only once for treatment, then never again. They said it was because they could not afford the cost. Letting a family member die over money? Sijin could not understand them.
The Sijin on screen continued speaking. Cruel words poured out.
―It’s a shame to waste the ten years you’ve spent raising the child, but you can’t remain bound to that for the rest of your life. You’re a person, too, and you’re still young.
―Wh-, what did you say?
―Given the rate at which the patient’s condition progresses, you’ll be a free person in about a month. Congratulations.
Sijin extended a hand to one of the guardians for a handshake. She had a rounded belly and appeared to be about six months pregnant. She ground her teeth together and glared at the hand he extended as though it were a venomous insect.
―Filling the empty space with new life? How sensible. People die regardless — it’s only a matter of timing. Please don’t grieve, and do raise the next one well.
―Empty space? Are you finished talking?
―This condition isn’t hereditary, either. The incidence rate is one in a million, so it’s effectively zero. The child you’re carrying will certainly be healthy.
Sijin lightly patted the sick child on the head, then turned and walked away. As he left, the guardian screamed after him.
―Don’t you dare paint me as a murderer! You’re the murderer!
The video ended. The guardian was frozen on the screen, mouth open. It was as if her final cry echoed through the conference room.
“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
Noh Gisik swept his gaze across the board.
“Telling a parent to let their living, breathing child die. Is this something a pharmaceutical company’s CEO is permitted to say?”
He shook his head as though even speaking of it further were repulsive. The board members, too, looked at Sijin with censuring eyes. Sijin couldn’t understand it.
“What exactly are you trying to say? The discontinuation of the treatments was a matter every director in this room agreed to, was it not? You’re going to move to dismiss me because a protest ended up in the news? That’s laughable.”
The board had been looking for any opportunity to pull him down, but this particular matter was absurd. He believed that his remarks, however they had been branded as outrageous, were theoretically correct.
“Director Noh, that video is an edited version. Have you reviewed what was omitted? The guardians failed to provide the child with appropriate treatment. This is child abus——”
“CEO Park Sijin.”
Noh Gisik cut off Sijin’s protest. This is exactly why young kids who’ve done nothing but study are a problem. Director Ha Myeongseon, seated to Noh Gisik’s left, sneered openly. The other directors seated around the circular table began to snicker, one by one.
“Whatever your intentions behind those remarks, whether they were edited or not, and whether we agreed or opposed the treatment discontinuation beforehand — none of that matters. It doesn’t matter at all.”
A contemptuous gaze turned toward Sijin. Sijin felt like a fool. How exactly is this unfolding right now? He was the only one who didn’t know something that even people who couldn’t memorize the periodic table understood.
“Shall I teach you something? Whether it’s medicine, food, or even a single brick — whatever it is you’re selling, the most important thing to a merchant isn’t money. Chasing money makes you second-rate. So what is the most important thing to a first-rate merchant?”
Noh Gisik puffed out his chest and surveyed the conference room. It wasn’t a gesture made with any genuine expectation of an answer.
Sijin wanted to shout at him to stop stalling and just give the answer. But those words didn’t make it out of his mouth.
If they had, he would only have made himself a laughingstock. Sijin kept his eyes wide open and clenched his fist beneath the table.
“How your product appears to the consumer. How you, the one selling it, appear to them. That is what matters. Solve that, and the money follows on its own.”
“……”
Noh Gisik had pointed to something Sijin hadn’t anticipated.
“People aren’t interested in patients’ stories. They’ll chatter about it for three days at most, then forget. Child abuse falls under the jurisdiction of the police and the Ministry of Health and Welfare. What’s been lodged in the minds of everyone who watched that news report is your words. They will only remember CEO Park Sijin — the man who told consumers of drugs made by Eaton Biotech, the people who need to take their medicine and get their vaccines, to go and die.”
“The situation at the time wasn’t like that——”
He needed to explain himself. But words he didn’t mean wouldn’t come out readily.
People die regardless. He had whispered that to Cheolhwa less than an hour ago. Even now, with the motion to dismiss on the table, that conviction hadn’t changed. Regardless of which company’s drugs a person consumed, everyone died. That was an absolute truth.
Refuse treatment, and you die. That, too, was the same. Could it really be considered a sin to have told a patient’s parents an obvious fact? Sijin couldn’t accept it.
Noh Gisik glanced at the facilitator. It seemed the prepared performance still had more to go. The screen soon filled with a compilation of public reactions.
Murderer.
The word he had heard repeated over and over these past few days stood out as unusually large. Not only those who had been stripped of their treatments, but even uninvolved third parties with no stake in the matter were condemning Sijin as a monster.
These were people whose lives had been saved by the vaccines and treatments Sijin had developed. From hero of the AP-4 virus eradication to killer — public sentiment toward Sijin had flipped more easily than the palm of a hand, all on account of a single remark.
“Because of your words, every person who buys and takes medicine manufactured by Eaton Biotech, everyone who needs to get vaccinated — they all felt insulted. That is what matters.”
Noh Gisik spoke with a self-satisfied air. Deep down, the board members weren’t all that different from Sijin. They, too, were killers. But they were not condemned by the public.
The difference was that they had cunningly concealed their true natures, and Sijin had been exposed. That gap was enormous. Exposed, or not exposed. That distinction was what had placed Sijin on the verge of dismissal and seated them in the chairs proposing it.
“Now you understand, don’t you? Someone must take responsibility for this matter. And responsibility should naturally fall on the one who caused the incident. Isn’t that right?”
Of course, that’s right, yes, the directors chimed in all at once in agreement with Noh Gisik’s words. He was emboldened.
“Therefore, the board of directors moves to dismiss CEO Park Sijin from his position. The dismissal decision will be determined by vote, three days from today, at five o’clock following the close of the stock market, in this room. Any objections——”
“Very well. Let’s proceed that way.”
All eyes in the room snapped toward the source from which consent had just been given. The very person who should have objected most strongly had readily accepted and risen from his seat. Ha Myeongseon narrowed his eyes. What does this little punk think he’s playing at right now? Sijin’s swift acquiescence put the directors on edge instead.
Director Noh Gisik, Director Ha Myeongseon, and the rest of the directors. As though it were pointless to continue occupying his seat any further, Sijin addressed them all in a bored tone — these people who had summoned him to a conference room without so much as telling him the agenda.
