The Place Where the Sold Materials Went

At eight in the morning, Baek Narin walked into the warehouse holding a contract that had not yet received the CEO's seal.

The inventory sheet folded away the day before had a new crease from the night. Taegyeong did not unfold it right away. He waited until the shipping manager, an inventory team employee, and the accountant were seated at the same table before pointing at the blank field.

"There's no customer receipt confirmation, only an instruction to hold for the exhibition."

The shipping manager spoke. "We didn't ship it out. The instruction was just to hand it over to Warehouse A. The pallets are still here."

The accountant turned his laptop around. "I entered it as a customer payment. The CEO said to reconcile it once this order comes in."

Narin didn't look at the accountant. She didn't touch the sample box either. Instead she set the seal down on the table.

"I gave that instruction."

The short sentence made the room quieter.

"I thought if we secured the exhibition volume first, the client would place a bigger order. I thought if we marked it as a pending customer payment, we could cover this week's material costs."

The accountant opened his mouth, then closed it. Taegyeong didn't make him explain. The CEO had approved it, and the staff member had entered the record. The two sentences didn't carry the same weight of responsibility.

"I'll note separately who gave the instruction and who can correct it." Taegyeong said. "This morning we reverse the customer payment marking and restore the exhibition volume to inventory. The confirmation will carry all three of your names."

Narin pushed the paper forward. "Do that and the account goes empty."

"Let's see how empty first."

The accountant brought up the raw material payment due in two days and the wages due in four days on the screen. When the customer payment field was deleted, the balance dropped into the negatives. The number was a single line, but on the floor it erased forklift fuel, night shift pay, and the film delivery coming in after lunch, all at once.

"We could cancel the exhibition." Taegyeong said.

Narin looked up. "That exhibition is our chance to save the brand."

"Keeping the exhibition volume means spending money that isn't on the wage sheet."

"If we land just one order, we can pay it all back."

Taegyeong didn't repeat what he'd said the day before. Instead he laid two sheets side by side. One for the exhibition, one for payday in four days. At the bottom of each sheet he wrote only whose signature was needed.

"This one, you can decide. Whether to go to the exhibition or not. This one belongs to the employees, so you can't decide it alone."

Narin looked down at the sheets for a long moment. "Would the employees want to shut the factory down?"

"What we can ask today is about night shifts, safety, and what work is possible before payday. I won't ask about closing the business on your behalf."

At that, Narin picked the seal back up. She didn't press it down.

The floor supervisor came in with the morning's first work sheet. The foil pouch line, the highest earning one, was circled in red pen.

"Are we running this line today?"

Narin answered first. "We have to run it. If this stops, the remaining orders will..."

The supervisor flipped the work sheet over. On the back was an equipment inspection sheet. Three fields for guard sensor checks were blank, and the last inspection date was three months ago.

"This is the maintenance record I mentioned yesterday." the supervisor said. "The sensor kept stopping, so it's been temporarily bypassed."

Narin's eyebrows moved. "The bypass was supposed to be temporary."

"Temporary has been three months."

The supervisor's voice didn't rise. That left no room for excuses. When the sensor stops, the machine is supposed to stop too, but someone had tied the wiring off. A stopped machine missed deadlines, a running machine could hurt someone's hands. A factory couldn't put both of those on the same weekly schedule.

Taegyeong picked up the inspection sheet. "Who ordered the bypass?"

The supervisor didn't look at Narin. "The maintenance company said just until the part arrives. The final call was the CEO's."

Narin's hand stopped over the seal. This time her eyes didn't go to the accountant.

"I approved it."

She didn't sigh. Her expression showed she knew that a long explanation would only end up picking out the sentences that favored her.

"I didn't want to lose the exhibition samples, or this line, or this order. So I said we'd fix it once the part came in."

"When does the part arrive?" Taegyeong asked.

The supervisor opened the delivery confirmation email. Next Tuesday. After payday.

Narin read the date in the email and still shook her head. "If we run it for just two hours, we can make today's shipment. Put only the experienced workers on it."

The supervisor said. "Experienced hands are still hands."

Taegyeong nodded at that. The decision could come out of a meeting room, but the person standing in front of the machine was on the other side of it.

"Stopping the line cuts into cash even more." Narin said.

"Running the line means someone could get hurt."

"We can't shut down the whole company over that possibility."

"No one's saying to shut down the whole company. I'm saying we separate this line and today's order."

Taegyeong made three lines on the work sheet. Suspend the foil pouch line until sensor status is confirmed normal. Simple manual packing work only, with employee consent. Restore the exhibition volume to inventory and correct the customer payment entry by end of morning. The first line was the biggest earner, the second was the slowest, and the third left Narin's name behind.

"Do this and the client walks." Narin said.

"Ship with the safety guard tied off and something bigger walks. People too."

Narin didn't push the sheet away. She just rested her finger over the word "suspend" on the first line.

"If the CEO signs this, does it mean she has no authority to turn it back on either?"

"Not without a normal inspection record and confirmation from the floor supervisor."

"It's my factory."

"That's why it stays the CEO's responsibility. But it can't take away the veto of the person working today."

The floor supervisor sent a message to the workers on his phone. The meeting would happen in ten minutes, in front of the line. He didn't wait for the CEO's approval. He'd already waited three months in front of the broken sensor.

Narin watched this and said. "Are you telling me to let him go around me?"

"No. I'm saying we separate the safety stop and the restart confirmation from any one person's hands."

"That still cuts my authority."

"Yes."

Taegyeong didn't soften it. It had already been written down that a first customer's contract doesn't guarantee anyone's mood.

Six people gathered in front of the line. The supervisor played footage of the conveyor still running after the sensor had stopped. In the video a paper bag caught in a gap in the machine, and a worker's gloved hand froze just in front of it. There had been no actual accident. That was why Narin had been holding the absence of an incident report like a shield.

"The foil line isn't running today." the supervisor said. "You can choose another line. If you're available for night shift, write your name down."

One worker asked. "If it stops, what about pay?"

The accountant looked at Taegyeong. Taegyeong didn't take the answer from him. Narin spoke first.

"The exhibition budget is on hold as of today. I'm reversing the customer payment marking too. I'll post the wage sheet separately."

"What if the money isn't enough?"

Narin's voice dropped for a moment. "Then I'll explain it myself. I won't put it on the accounting team."

The employees didn't nod right away. Two of them wrote down that they'd take the simple packing work, and one wrote down her leaving time, saying she had to pick up her child. The night shift field stayed blank. The supervisor didn't erase that blank space, he attached it to the work sheet as is.

Taegyeong looked at the sheet and did the math. The volume they could produce today would drop, and the chance of losing the high margin order would grow. But the line with the safety guard tied off would no longer be counted as "running normally." The losses were bigger, but who would carry them had become a little clearer.

Narin picked up the seal and stood in front of the accounting slips. There were two, the correction slip reversing the customer payment marking and the sheet restoring the exhibition volume to inventory. She stamped the correction slip first. The sound was louder than the sample box opening and closing.

"I'm canceling the exhibition."

The accountant looked up, startled.

"I'll call the client myself. I'll explain the reason for the delayed shipment myself too."

Taegyeong asked. "And today's order?"

Narin looked at the foil line. The machine sat still, only the red stop light lit.

"I won't take orders through that line."

She didn't say "our brand." "I won't take any more orders through the method I approved."

If they held off the exhibition costs and scaled back the remaining simple packing orders, the cash would hold until payday. It wasn't a calculation that saved the company. It was a calculation that erased the highest earning line and the most presentable part, the exhibition, first.

Around lunchtime, a message from Seoyun arrived on Taegyeong's phone. Below a photo of the envelope it read, "I'll check the schedule myself. We'll talk about money later." He didn't write back right away. It was probably right not to sign anyone's schedule for them today either.

Back from the warehouse, Narin split the correction slip copy into three. One for accounting, one for the floor supervisor, one for herself. The CEO's seal remained only on the third sheet.

"Are you certain this keeps the cash afloat?" she asked.

"Not certain. What I can confirm is what we stopped today."

Narin didn't fold the copy. She was deciding the order, whether to post it on the employee bulletin board or call the client first.

Under the stop light, the foil line was quiet. The floor supervisor wrote the number of the lock securing the power switch in the work log, and didn't put the key in his own pocket. He left blank the field requiring both the maintenance staff and a worker representative to sign off on the restart inspection together. Narin looked at that blank field and still didn't write her own name in first.

The factory might hold out for four more days, but for now the most profitable machine couldn't produce a single order until its safety guard came back.