Chief Justice (2)
Hearing the senior's words, I greeted him politely and left the room, walking away with heavy steps.
The senior's advice had been long.
To delay as much as possible, when the time finally came to make a decision, neither side would be cited and the matter would simply be left as is.
I wasn't sure whether this was right or wrong.
I truly had no idea.
In the case of an impeachment trial, considering previous precedents, it would likely take four to five months.
But for an unconstitutional party dissolution ruling, it would take over a year.
Was this even correct?
I couldn't think of any other solution.
My heart grew heavy and my feet felt leaden.
With this burdened mind, I returned to the office and spent the entire day handling the accumulated tasks.
When lunchtime arrived and I had a moment of free time, I searched for information on the unconstitutional party dissolution ruling.
The news had already broken: President Lee Nayoung had convened a cabinet meeting and requested the Constitutional Court to file the party dissolution case.
Compared to previous cases, the pace was remarkably swift.
After reading the article, the related news headline about the political crisis in Korea appeared in the feed.
I could guess the reason without even clicking.
Senior...
Chief Justice.
Unfortunately, I'm afraid the solution you mentioned would be very difficult to implement.
Thanks to reading the news, my heavy heart was soothed by drinking a glass of cold water.
It was time to go home, and for the first time in a long while I chose the subway.
Even if I might not be the one to handle it, as time passed and the actual moment arrived, I hoped it would help make a more accurate judgment.
So I wanted to see the rally that was still ongoing today.
Departing from Anguk Station, transferring at Jongno 3-ga Station to Line 5, I arrived at Gwanghwamun Station.
Even in my younger days when I took the subway, the station had been crowded, but today it was even more packed than I remembered.
Children, young people, big people, small people, bald people, people with hair.
Truly diverse human figures, but the children who seemed to be participating in the rally were all wearing red short-sleeve t-shirts, black bottoms, and sunglasses.
Why?
What was the meaning?
Curious, I tried to climb the stairs but remembered the doctor's warning about my knees and walked toward the elevator in the corner.
During the time it took for the elevator to arrive and the brief ride up to the ground, I endured the uncomfortable hostile glances from those children.
But I endured it and stepped onto the ground.
And between the two statues that filled my vision was a dense crowd, blinding lights, amps producing amplified voices through megaphones, and a master of ceremonies shouting something.
It was a somewhat different sight from the rallies I had seen in my youth, and it was striking.
To see this appearance more clearly and remember it later, I approached the spot where the rally was visible, took my smartphone out of my bag, but there was a paper with the word "Execution" attached to my chest.
In this hot weather, a young woman wearing a mask approached with a policewoman and stopped my action.
"Old man, you can't do this here."
"Huh? Why? What's the problem?"
"We also have privacy rights, and there are people who use photos maliciously, so please don't take photos. Give me the smartphone. I won't touch anything else and will only delete the photo you took in front of the police officer."
Looking at the female cop who had come with me in this absurd situation, I said.
"Even if it's a rally asking to be photographed, right?"
"If you don't want the rally participants to be photographed, you can't take photos under current law. Please cooperate, old man."
Feeling a bit wronged, I wanted to reveal my identity and explain why we couldn't interpret it that way legally, but to avoid any future trouble I simply unlocked my smartphone, showed that I hadn't taken any photos yet, and only then escaped the place where glaring eyes were being directed at me.
Amazing.
So the law and precedents were being used like this.
This can't be done...
This can't be done...
How had it come to this?
Then, who had taken the photos that were quoted so much in the news?
With that thought, looking around again, except for the front part I had been trying to photograph, everything was blocked by police buses, and policewomen were guarding the gaps.
I couldn't properly see the rally from right across the street.
I could only hear loud voices that hurt my ears.
Stuck in this absurd situation where no one could see the rally that was supposed to make as many people as possible hear their own voices.
After thinking for a moment, I changed my plan and instead went to the US Embassy in Korea, where I had a familiar acquaintance, to ask permission.
I sat quietly at the window with an American coffee and listened to what they were saying.
A man with short hair, looking a bit messy, wearing glasses with a string, came out and spoke about the hardships of women suddenly forced into physical labor.
Then he talked about the stories of men who had gone to Japan and, based on that, spoke about the government's incompetence.
And it ended with an appeal for President Lee Nayoung's impeachment.
And then their performance began.
It was so aggressive that it made the eyebrows frown.
Something was flying around and breaking, and no matter how you looked at it, they called it a torch, not a candle.
Waving it around, they lit a pile of wood labeled "Government" installed in the center of the stage.
And on that pile where the fire was lit, it was labeled "Man".
With this shocking sight, I thought I didn't need to watch anymore, finished my coffee, threw away the trash, thanked everyone, and went down.
The sunset had turned the sky gloomy, and the way home felt even harder.
What had I experienced today?
Are they really holding rallies to create a better society?
The daughter who had left home came back and filled the empty seat in the house.
The daughter had prepared the meal in advance, and I was eating cold rice while thinking.
Chewing the rice grains felt like chewing sand.
Senior...
Is this the right thing to do?
Thinking about the appearance I saw today, even if not six months, even delaying for a month, our Korea might become a failed state in the future.
What?
What decision should we make?
"Now... I think we should make a decision. What do you think, Seonghun? There are options in the US too... but I think Japan is the best choice."
Clearly said not at Incheon Airport, but now...
As time passed and big winds blew, big waves appeared on the surface, and the face changed.
This piranha auntie.
"Yeah. It seems like a big decision is approaching. But... not now. So, shall I go back today? I seem a bit tired."
To end the meaningless conversation that continued besides the one that had just happened, I declined, but unlike usual, it didn't stick.
"Instead, you liked Ayane and Rin, right? How about settling in Japan? Ayane and Rin really like Seonghun."
I knew why she said that...
But actually, it was a bit harsh.
"Thank you for thinking highly of me. But we don't know each other well yet. It's fine."
Both are pretty and good women.
But not enough to risk life.
"Yeah.. A bit sad."
"Seonghun, I looked into what you asked. Now Korea is divided into two parties: the government and Women's Voice, fighting fiercely."
"Support rate 7 to 3..."
"Can't suppress the minority, seems like one small touch could cause big trouble."
Internal Korean information hard to know from Japanese media.
They accurately say it, so they have pipes planted in Korea.
"Ah... yeah, it seems so."
"Yeah, Seonghun. There's an expression in Korea: 'If you keep looking at it, you'll miss the timing.' I hope smart Seonghun doesn't make this mistake."
"Yeah... thanks for worrying. So I'll think positively."
Damn it.
How much more of the words "Your country is a mess" or "Your country is doomed" do I have to hear?