Chapter 11. The Enemy Within
When Team Leader Seung-jin’s presentation ended, the Center Director looked at the Facilities Chief and said,
“Do you have any reason to reject this proposal?”
“Ah, well… its concept overlaps with another firm’s proposal.”
“Overlaps, you say? Then may I see that proposal as well?”
Geonshin swiftly grabbed Samin Architects’ proposal and handed it to the Center Director. The flustered Facilities Chief reached for it, but the Center Director was already flipping a few pages, checking the drawings.
“How long did you work in architecture, Facilities Chief?”
“Pardon? It’s been over ten years already. On top of that, I also hold an architect’s license.”
“And yet you’re saying you’re torn between these two proposals?”
“That’s not it. It’s just—”
“If a bridge I have to cross were covered with these tawdry drawings of rabbits and fairies, I’d find it truly annoying. What’s more, in two months the President will be visiting and will certainly cross this bridge. Can you handle that?”
“The President…?”
“I, for one, want to walk the bridge proposed by Yeongjo Architects as soon as possible. I’d very much like to show it to the President, too.”
All eyes turned to the Facilities Chief. And the Center Director’s firm one-liner made the Facilities Chief’s heart plummet.
“On another note, I’m beginning to wonder whether you’re fit for this position.”
Geonshin looked into the Facilities Chief’s eyes. He was trying to stay calm, but the wavering gaze suggested a flurry of calculations.
Everyone likes gain, and the greater it is, the more ready they are to endure anything for it, but sometimes people boldly give up such gain when a bigger loss looms right before them.
People find it harder to bear the pain of losing than to enjoy the joy of gaining. In the Facilities Chief’s mind, the pain of a grave loss, of possibly losing his position began to dominate, outweighed any benefit he might get from awarding the job to Samin Architects.
How many people in this world keep promises even at a loss?
Geonshin never spoke about the gains that would come from choosing Yeongjo Architects’ proposal. He simply made him feel the fear of the losses that would come from rejecting it.
“As expected, your eye is remarkable, Center Director. I, of course, intended to choose this proposal as well.”
“You don’t even need a remarkable eye for this.”
“Our Facilities Section also found Yeongjo Architects’ proposal highly impressive. No way could we welcome the President with some shabby bridge like that. We’ll proceed with Yeongjo’s proposal as soon as possible.”
Okay! Situation concluded.
At that moment, text popped up before Geonshin’s eyes.
【Order for the Korea Institute of Science and Technology connecting bridge secured.
Your Pritzker Prize Project Level 2 has leveled up.】
Stepping out of the building that housed the Facilities Section, Geonshin and Team Leader Seung-jin were met with blazing sunlight. Like victorious generals returning from a war that had teetered on the brink, the two stared proudly ahead. Geonshin looked with satisfaction at Buildings 7 and 8 in the distance. And he pictured the connecting bridge spanning between them.
His first project since returning.
Thus Geonshin drew a short but important line at the Korea Institute of Science and Technology.
In good spirits, he opened the status window.
[Pritzker Prize Project.]
Goal: 100 Lv (3/100 Lv)
Upon winning the commission: 2 Lv — Commission secured.
Upon completion: 2 Lv
Mission 1. Complete the connecting bridge at the Korea Institute of Science and Technology.
Reward: Creativity 5 SP (5/100 SP) Skill 5 SP (5/100 SP) — Rewards received.
Attachment: 3-terabyte folder use coupons: 7 remaining.
At last, the Pritzker Prize level went up. And I got the rewards, too.
As if a blocked meridian had just been cleared in a wuxia tale, boosting one’s inner power, to Geonshin it felt like the land unfurling before his eyes was writhing with life. Then his former advisor’s words came back to him.
“As an architect, if you stand on a site, you should be able to simulate at least one building right there on the spot. From the columns that rise from the ground, to the slabs fixed to those columns, and the facades that wrap them. Transferring the complete image formed in your head like a video game then onto drawings. That is what an architect does.”
Back then, the words were impossible to grasp, but Geonshin was beginning to understand. He already had twenty years’ worth of experience with building codes and practical processes. As for how this field works, the firsthand, hard-won experience was a bonus.
He had returned carrying all those memories, and now he was filling up the creativity he’d wanted so badly.
The difference between buildings is the difference in an architect’s ability. And that difference in ability is a difference in creativity. You might ask what creativity has to do with house-building, but architecture is very much a world of design.
Form, color, materials: every property is born through an architect’s creative thinking.
The connecting bridge is only the beginning. Next, I’ll make commercial facilities, design office towers, and build houses that will go down in history like Ando Tadao’s Sumiyoshi Row House.
For a 23-year-old junior college student, the goals might sound absurd, but there was nothing impossible for Geonshin now.
He clenched his fist and smiled.
“Now you’re grinning at all hours.”
Team Leader Seung-jin stared at Geonshin as if dumbfounded.
Time to reap what I sowed.
It seemed Team Leader Seung-jin’s patience had reached its limit. As Geonshin braced himself, a rapid-fire barrage came pouring out of him.
“You punk! Do you know what you just did? You almost blew the whole project in an instant, you little…! Who told you to suddenly bring up philosophy without consulting anyone? What were you thinking? You think the Facilities Chief could make heads or tails of that? You gambled with the outcome! We bust our butts to pass the design pool and get all the way here, and you try to flush it down the toilet like an idiot. Don’t do things you’re not asked to do. You’re not even a full-time employee. You’re just an intern. Got it?”
“…I’m sorry! It won’t happen again.”
“Again? There is no next time. You’re going back to school!”
Ah. I am going back to school.
Oddly enough, it was Team Leader Seung-jin who felt irritated at the fact that Geonshin had to return to school. Though he was scolding him, Geonshin was the top contributor who had smashed a design pool they were destined to lose and overturned a predetermined project.
Who would believe a 23-year-old student had done it?
Mo Seung-jin added in a small voice,
“Anyway… good job, this time.”
When Geonshin grinned, Team Leader Seung-jin cleared his throat, embarrassed.
“But how did you know? That the Center Director would like Deleuze.”
“In the papers you gave me, the Center Director starts every introduction by talking about Deleuze…”
“Then how did you know that Deleuze had studied Alice? You didn’t mention that in the design pool. And you couldn’t have known ahead of time we’d meet the Center Director here.”
He couldn’t bring up the folder coupons. If he hand-waved it, what could the other do anyway?
“I read a book before, and, well… it just kind of fell into place… a lucky break…”
“…”
Sneaking a glance at Team Leader Seung-jin’s face, Geonshin could guess what he was thinking.
What architecture student, not a philosophy major, reads Deleuze? And calling it luck… what nonsense…
Granted, this wasn’t the 2010s when the humanities craze was in full swing, and it wasn’t as if Peter Eisenman’s Deleuzian discourse was widely known here yet.
“Luck? Chance? You expect me to believe that?”
The suspicion in Team Leader Seung-jin’s eyes made Geonshin’s heart race.
Thankfully, a relief pitcher came to the rescue.
“There you are.”
They saw the Center Director hurrying over.
“I was worried you’d already left. Phew.”
“It’s just… it’s not easy to come here often, so we were looking at where the bridge will be placed.”
“Ah. Meticulous as ever.”
As for the cover story…
Ignoring Geonshin’s look of disbelief, Team Leader Mo chatted with the Center Director.
In the midst of that, the Center Director held something out to Geonshin.
“Huh? This is…”
“It’s The Logic of Sense, which I’ve read more times than I can count. Seeing you, I suddenly felt I should give it to you.”
The book in Geonshin’s hands bore heavy signs of use.
“I was honestly surprised that a young fellow is interested in Deleuze. Kids these days don’t even read novels. I’m newly impressed by Yeongjo Architects’ caliber.”
Team Leader Seung-jin, who moments earlier had been yelling at Geonshin that he was just a temp, felt sheepish for no reason.
“Not at all. Thanks to you, Center Director, we were able to finish well.”
“I hadn’t paid much attention outside my field, but since architecture belongs to the college of engineering, I’d thought it was just concrete lumps made by structural calculation. But seeing today’s, it felt like a film.”
“People usually misunderstand that. It’s also part of the injustice architecture suffers. Thank you for the kind words.”
“Thanks to you, I think I’ll pay more attention when I look at buildings from now on. I was always surrounded by machines, and I’d just taken it for granted that there are walls and ceilings. Who knows… perhaps I’ll see a rabbit too.”
“I hope we didn’t just inflate your expectations. Haha.”
“Not at all. I’m satisfied to have learned something new today. And I hear there’s talk of building a research complex and dormitories behind Building 8. If that happens, I hope we can meet again.”
“Yes. We’ll do our best to make that happen.”
Team Leader Seung-jin watched the Center Director dash off again. In the midst of his busy schedule, he had hurried over just to give them a book. Team Leader Seung-jin could feel, indirectly at least, the emotion the Center Director had felt.
Architecture’s possibilities are endless. But perhaps it is the architects themselves who narrow those possibilities.
On the drive back, Team Leader Seung-jin had many thoughts. A capable guy had shown up, yet he would soon return to school. And not even from a four-year university, so he wouldn’t even get a chance at a full-time spot.
Just then…
“By the way… if a file is designated as non-exportable inside the company, does that mean external transfer is completely impossible?”
“What?”
Startled by Geonshin’s sudden question, Team Leader Seung-jin missed the light.
“Damn.”
During the meeting, Geonshin had felt uneasy that Samin Architects had brought an identical concept. But Samin’s punk moves were things they pulled after the firm had grown big; right now, they were practically nobodies… how could their plan be so similar to Yeongjo’s?
The exterior concept and design are too alike. Unless someone on the inside shared our concept, this would be impossible. Then why did they change the interior? If you’re going to copy, you’d copy it exactly.
“Is this because the concept matched Samin’s earlier?”
“The exterior design too. It’s a bit too strange to be a coincidence…”
Team Leader Seung-jin nodded as well. He’d been in architecture for over ten years, long enough to become a team leader, but he’d never faced an opponent carrying the same concept at the same time. All the more when the theme was as peculiar as Alice in Wonderland. It strained belief to think it overlapped by chance with no connection.
“Yeah. There are a few guys I find suspicious.”
He even had a few specific names in mind. But with the job now awarded, there was risk in digging recklessly.
“I’ll look into it for now. You stay out of it. You won’t even have time for your school assignments unless you plan to play detective here.”
“Understood.”
But Geonshin was the only one who knew what was coming.
A light drizzle that soaks your clothes before you know it. Samin Architects had shown up at a prearranged project carrying the other side’s proposal right in.
Would it be mere overthinking to suppose this incident might have been the first one that contributed to Yeongjo Architects’ downfall in the past?
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