Don't Get in My Way
Kim Eun-ji, the assemblywoman for Namdong-gu District A, sat on the Public Safety Restoration Committee. The committee's role was to tackle Incheon's severe security issues and restore public safety. Especially in her district, where the massive headache known as the Namdong Industrial Complex loomed largest, the need was acute.
But she'd never done any real work on it. It looked good on paper, but coordination with relevant ministries and agencies was nonexistent, the budget was a joke, and the authority was vague at best. So there wasn't much she could actually do.
And then there were her personal issues. As a first-term lawmaker, her support base was weak, her standing in the party was negligible, and her political influence in the city was minimal.
"Please do something about those monstrosities quick...! I'm scared to even let the kids go outside. What if they take a wrong turn?!"
"Ah, yes. I get pretty nervous going around that area myself. I really empathize."
"What? No, I don't need empathy—I need you to fix it!"
"I really empathize a lot."
"No—"
"The trash problem is so bad too. They crawl out and leave garbage everywhere??"
"Sigh... Well, they're walking trash, aren't they? Trash dropping trash along the way is just natural, right?"
"Pardon??"
"They're so noisy I can't sleep at night! Gunshots, cannon fire or whatever—ha. Please do something. At least put up a sound barrier."
"Wouldn't it be faster if you installed a soundproof booth yourself, resident?"
"What did you say??"
"They keep coming out on boats and raiding us whenever they feel like it. I report it to the police, but nothing happens. Assemblywoman, please fix this!"
"I don't have a boat. Sorry. I'll contact the police."
Of course, the biggest issue was her total lack of will.
It hadn't always been that way. She'd entered city council with grand ambitions to change this rotten world. But nope. She slammed into corruption and graft beyond her wildest imagination, and the reality of her powerlessness chewed her up and spat her out.
Disappointment stops people in their tracks, doesn't it? Now she was just a deadbeat assemblywoman coasting through her schedule like a slacker.
The funny part? It didn't even cause problems. No matter how shit she handled complaints, Namdong-gu was a solid stronghold for the Better Future Party, so she wouldn't lose votes. By just sitting there, she was "doing her job"—holding the district.
"Alright, staff? You heard the complaints, right? Come up with some countermeasures."
"..."
With the head honcho like that, her aides didn't do jack either. They'd spout some vague bullshit to kill time, and when results were needed, they'd whip up a half-assed bill that sounded plausible. Then Kim Eun-ji would pretend to lobby colleagues with it, burning more time.
Occasionally, if it got ten-plus recommendations and went to the agenda office, it'd head to committee review. Just that let her package it as "getting work done" and brag about it on SNS. Boom—she was a hardworking assemblywoman for the day.
"Let's eat."
Kim Eun-ji figured today would drift by like always. No hope, no more disappointments to come, no passion—just day after day.
How long do I have to keep this up~.
It was easy, but utterly thankless. A dead-end job.
But today didn't go as expected.
After lunch, her aide burst in, frantic.
"As-Assemblywoman!!!"
She'd been lounging with her feet on the desk, blankly fiddling with a gamepad. She turned her head lazily. Her character died on screen.
It was a game developed in "partnership" with a game company for "security restoration" by the Public Safety Restoration Committee. Why a game for security? The wild logic was that Namdong gangsters playing this code blob would de-stress and stop doing bad shit.
"What."
"Th-th-the..."
"?"
The aide couldn't get the words out.
"Prestige's Gomuyeol secretary office wants to meet you...!!"
"...Who?"
"Prestige's Go Mu—"
Her sleepy eyes snapped wide. She shot to her feet. The wireless pad clattered to the floor and broke.
Who gives a shit? An unexpected whale had reached out.
"Goryeo Group??!"
"Yes! Exactly!! Not even a side branch—straight main line, and their secretary office contacted us directly..."
"Why?"
"I don't know exactly... They just got the artificial island, and it's something about congratulating that."
"Congratulating..."
Obviously not the real reason.
"That's him, right? The mega-player who's been popping up in entertainment lately."
"Yes."
"Smashing Ganghwa to bits, and now he's hitting up me—a Namdong rep—out of nowhere?"
"Wh-what should we do? They want you ASAP."
"How soon?"
"Latest by day after tomorrow."
"Our important schedule..."
She trailed off, thinking. Important schedule? In this country, was there anything more important than a direct Goryeo Group heir?
If they were calling a small fry like her personally, it had to be huge. Maybe a total game-changer for her career.
"Cancel all my evening plans. Prepare some congratulatory gift or whatever."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
After the aide left, Kim Eun-ji pondered alone. Why contact her, of all people, with zero connection?
Rumors say druggie Gomuyeol's been stirring shit everywhere lately... Maybe dipping into politics? The big shots already have owners, so he's scouting fresh meat like me who hasn't been touched yet.
She glanced at the office mirror.
Or maybe...
She checked her face and figure.
He wants this body...?
Gomuyeol's womanizing was infamous. It leaked out from how he'd wrecked the entertainment scene so spectacularly. Hell, running Goryeo Entertainment meant swallowing rival agencies or rigging special probes to blow them up—who wouldn't know?
And entertainment had buzzed about it forever: the young master swinging his dick like a club.
"Ah... Um..."
She agonized. If that was it, how to play it? Spread her legs like he wants? Or shut it down hard?
"Argh, what the hell is this all of a sudden."
"Master, Assemblywoman Kim Eun-ji says she'll visit this evening."
"Good. About time. Guess my clout still works. Even a city councilor comes running."
"You're Goryeo Group's young master."
"Right?"
"Yes."
Mood boost for no reason. Goryeo Group's one and only direct heir. What a beautiful ring to it.
"The district head?"
In a megacity like Incheon with 30 million souls, district heads wielded mayor-level influence.
"District Head Ye Chae-rin says physical attendance is tough due to party events, but video call is possible."
"Video call? Cheeky bitch."
"..."
Daring to video conference with mighty Goryeo Group??? Even my grandpa hand-writes paper docs, and aunts and cousins all do voice calls—no video bullshit. True respect means baring your raw face and body, dropping all defenses. Tsk tsk tsk.
"Tell her by end of week."
"Got it. I'll relay."
I was buying up all of Namdong Industrial Complex land and purging gangs for massive redevelopment. No district head talk, no groundbreaking.
Not just her—tons of ministries to coordinate. Better to wrap it fast. But couldn't risk leaks via messengers or calls. And Sua hadn't finished land grabs yet—had to play careful.
Evening came. After a day of headache reports, I greeted the guest.
She arrived on a basic AV to my artificial island—a college-girl vibe, long straight hair, fresh face, perky right tit begging a grab for visual hit one, then a curved waist and white slacks hugging prominent hips for combo two.
Damn. White pants.
Signature look? Her slacks clung like skinny jeans, showing off those legs. Fashionable gal.
"I'm Gomuyeol, Goryeo Group's—er, this country's—eldest grandson."
"Assemblywoman Kim Eun-ji. Young master."