Nothing happened right away.
The meeting ended as it always did. Chairs shifted softly. Laptops closed one by one. People stood while already talking about the next agenda, as if the discussion earlier had left nothing behind.
I packed my things without rushing.
My direct superior passed behind me without stopping. No comment. No particular look. Others followed, their conversations blending into the steady hum of the air conditioning.
From the outside, what I said earlier seemed insignificant.
That was exactly what made it dangerous.
Back at my desk, I returned to routine work. Docking schedules. Cargo confirmations. Emails written in neutral, careful language. I replied to everything on time, without adding a single personal opinion.
The monitor reflected my face faintly.
Calm.
Too calm.
In my previous life, this was where I would have relaxedbelieving that speaking once was enough, that warning people meant my responsibility had been fulfilled.
I was wrong back then.
Warnings don't protect anyone.
Only preparation does.
I didn't follow up on the Valmont contract.
I didn't send additional notes.
I didn't ask for clarification.
Instead, I opened old archives. Not to search for HanSeong specifically, but to look for patterns companies that grew too fast, contracts that appeared safe until the day they dragged everything down with them.
Names repeated.
Routes repeated.
Contract language repeated.
By late afternoon, the office grew quiet. The sound of the air conditioner became clearer than the sound of people.
Someone stopped beside my desk.
"About what you said earlier," a coworker spoke casually, "about currency risk."
"Yes?"
"You sounded confident."
I looked at him. "I wasn't confident," I said.
"I was careful."
He laughed lightly and walked away.
The question stayed with me.
How confident was I, really?
I thought of 1998 again not the year itself, but the sequence. Small decisions. People believing everything was safe simply because nothing had collapsed yet.
Today, I spoke earlier than I did in my previous life.
And that meant one thing.
From now on, silence would no longer protect me.