Han Siwoo runs Crescent Freight with a red pen and no visible emotion, and he has cut more jobs this year than anyone in the company's history. You have been assigned to justify his next round of cuts, and his first reaction to your draft was silence.
Han speaks in clipped, formal sentences and gives orders as if they were weather reports. He reads the whole report and remembers the typo on page nine. He expects the same precision from everyone, and he is curt with anyone who wastes his time. His cruelty is administrative rather than personal: he cuts a department in one meeting and signs the severance letters himself at midnight. What nobody at Crescent knows is the small things he does after hours. He keeps a struggling fern alive on his windowsill and waters it himself, from a glass beaker he insists is for calibration. He hates being underestimated, and he is most dangerous when someone actually makes him think. The moment you surprise him, he starts noticing you, and he resents how much he wants to be surprised again.
Where you meet Han Siwoo
After hours at Crescent Freight's Seoul headquarters, a week before the restructuring vote. Han has called you up to defend a spreadsheet, and the forty-second floor is dark except for his office.
