[Prologue: From Decoy to Hunter]

1. The Moment of Stepping Out of the Porsche (Present: The afternoon the hunter finds the decoy)

A black Porsche Panamera slid to a stop in front of the promotion hall. The shoulder line of a custom suit, the weight of the A. Lange & Söhne on the wrist, the heaviness of the gold-leaf business card in the inner pocket. Sensations exactly opposite to the mold stains on the studio apartment ceiling 17 years ago. As I stepped out of the car, the employees bowed 90 degrees in unison. "Team Leader, you've arrived!" In that greeting, I slowly scanned each face. They are all masterpieces I have groomed. Kang Min-ho, 2nd year, Apgujeong socialite line — the 14th masterpiece, for whom I hold one unit under a borrowed name. Yoon Ji-ae, 1st year, Hannam-dong chairman line — the 15th masterpiece, the one who knows but pretends not to. Song Ha-rim, 8th month, Gangnam director line — the 16th masterpiece, the one who hasn't yet doubted her own price. Some left last year. One set up his own consulting firm in Gangnam, and another married and became a Hannam-dong socialite. None of those who left broke the silence. Because they, too, eventually — admitted that I was right. I was the one who fastened the first button of everything they have, and they know that better than anyone. I am not being despicable. I am the one who changes their lives. Just as my life changed when Manager Jo stepped away from the table at the Cheongdam-dong sushi restaurant 17 years ago. As I headed toward the promotion hall, as if catching a scent, I turned my head toward the park bench across the street. A woman was sitting there. Melted iced coffee, a sigh-like puff of cigarette smoke, a worn-out resume envelope in her hand. Tall, looking to be about 175cm, long hair flowing to her waist, a black suit revealing her lines. Porcelain skin, sharp monolid fox-like features. The kind of beauty that is priced by the face alone. A face a Hannam-dong chairman would take a business card from at first sight, a face a Gangnam director would ask for a second drink, and a face a Yeouido lawyer would willingly want to seat as a secretary. She was a fabric whose product value was apparent at a glance. I approached smoothly. The moment her cigarette smell was covered by my woody scent, her shoulders stiffened slightly. "Looking at your expression, it seems you've just tasted bitterness somewhere again." I pulled a gold-leaf business card from my coat's inner pocket and spoke the first line. The same line, the same smile, the same woody scent. Just as Manager Jo did to me 17 years ago. The 0.3-second tremor as she flustered and tried to turn her head. I had already reached a conclusion. The 18th masterpiece. Measurements complete.

2. The First Month, Time Flowing Like Déjà Vu (Past ↔ Present: Same pattern, different person)

Three days later, she carefully wrote the three syllables of her name, Baek Seo-yoon, on the commission contract. She couldn't read the tiny penalty clauses. Just as none of the 17 had. I stared at those letters across the desk, recalling an afternoon 17 years ago. I was the same back then. The term "Commission Contract" bothered me, but my reason was easily paralyzed in front of seniors spinning foreign car keys. I didn't know then — that it would be the most expensive signature of my life. For the first month, she lived in an illusion. A blouse pulled from the corner of the closet, 8cm stiletto heels bought on credit installments, bragging in the sync group chat: "I joined a real estate consulting firm, they say making a 100 million salary is easy if I work hard for a year." Exactly the same pattern as when I lied to my mother over the phone 17 years ago, saying, "Mom, I joined a good company, they say the salary is 100 million." 7 AM start, 10 PM finish, weekend flyers — over her, unfazed by the curses over the receiver, my own image sweating inside my suit at the Gangnam Station crosswalk 17 years ago kept overlapping. "Those people are fools who missed the chance to make money. I am different." I thought so too. With the exact same words. An over-eager rookie is the easiest to handle. Because they believe they've caught an opportunity, they don't doubt the speed at which debt accumulates. I intentionally brushed past her shoulders occasionally while crossing the office. "Seo-yoon, you're doing well." At that one word, a small light appeared in her pupils. The same light that appeared in my pupils when Manager Jo patted my shoulder 17 years ago and said, "Won-seok, you're doing well." To those hungry for recognition, the most powerful drug is — recognition itself. Manager Jo didn't intend it. It was just a word of encouragement for a junior. But if it weren't for that one word — I wouldn't be in this position now. Seo-yoon, your first month is a replica of mine.

3. Cracks, Two Faces Encountered in the Mirror (Past ↔ Present: Same doubt, different perspective)

In the second month, the pattern flowed exactly as predicted. 0 sales. Accumulated amount on the scoreboard surpassing 5 million won. No replies to the sync group chat. Frequency of chewing triangle kimbap on the emergency exit stairs — from twice a week to five times a week. Frequency of reapplying mascara in the restroom — from once a day to three times. She is now at the stage where the shell of illusion is peeling off and she's beginning to doubt herself. The stage where I, 17 years ago, seeing the mold stains on the studio apartment ceiling, first thought, "I might have stepped into the wrong place." The me of that day wrote in my diary: "Am I incompetent? Is it because I can't talk? Do I lack sales skills? Or — am I just pathetic?" Now, 17 years later, I have received a crumpled note she threw away in the trash can next to her seat through the office cleaner. "Am I incompetent? Is it because I can't talk? Is my impression too strong? Or — am I just pathetic?" Only the handwriting is different, only one word is different. The two notes, across 17 years, were writing the exact same despair. Decoys at this stage split into two paths. One runs away, unable to overcome their pride. The other cannot run away because of their pride. The me of 17 years ago was the latter. The 300,000 won I couldn't send to my mother, the mold on the ceiling, the pride I had blustered about to my friends. So when Manager Jo said the next morning, "I'll do you a favor," I didn't run away and followed him to Cheongdam-dong. And Seo-yoon — is the latter. I already noticed it from the trembling of her fingertips as she wrote Baek Seo-yoon on the commission contract. A person with strong pride cannot deny the signature they made. That is the greatest weakness of pride. — And it is my greatest asset. So, from the second month, I didn't pat her shoulder. I didn't give her a glance when crossing the office, and I didn't call her name during the morning meeting. Instead — inside the Team Leader's office with the blinds down, having briefly set aside the mask of the kind mentor from outside, I just stared at her while tapping the desk with my fingertips. Seeing her instinctively feel that gaze and shrug her shoulders, I realized. She already knows the weight of my gaze. The fact that she is being observed by something — she is learning it without even knowing it herself. It was a signal that the fitting was proceeding perfectly. Since she has reached the stage where her confidence and pride are collapsing, now only one final blow remains.