The Counterattack
A large banner hung behind the committee chairman. It read, "Truth and Reconciliation Committee for the Thousand Spirit Oil Spill Accident." Given that the accident had occurred before he had even begun handling the Doowon Energy situation, the name on the banner seemed to refer to the company that existed prior to the merger, and the name of the stranded vessel.
According to the investigation conducted in the forty hours since the accident, approximately 2,244 kiloliters of crude oil had leaked. While that was relatively low compared to other major disasters in history, his expression darkened as he recalled the news reports he had watched with Eunbyul in the car; he had been told that if the vessel hadn't been salvaged, it would have leaked 883 kiloliters every single day.
After briefly summarizing the investigation results, it was his turn to speak. Beside him, his father and Chairman, Han Juwon, watched him with a look of deep concern, his eyes silently pleading for his son not to tremble and to stick only to the facts. However—
"I believe that actions taken independently by the private sector can lead to even greater risks. How does the witness feel about this?"
"If you look here, this was a situation where 30 to 40 kiloliters of crude oil were at risk of leaking every hour if we hadn't intervened. If I hadn't done it, who would have cleaned up this oil? Even now, if you look at the Yellow Sea from a satellite, the center is covered in black. I prevented a leak of nine hundred kiloliters a day, so I find it difficult to accept the Assemblyman's claim that it was a 'greater risk.'"
The Chairman looked at him, thinking, Something is going wrong here. He interrupted the Assemblyman's occasionally long-winded questions.
"Still, it was an action taken without accurate fact-checking..."
"Then, if those 'accurate facts' are so important, why didn't anyone else do anything about it?"
"Well, that is..."
"Now, among you here... please tell me if any of you knew about the accident and took action. When I left work and went to Incheon in the middle of the night, no one had any sense of urgency about this accident. The same goes for these call records. I even contacted the Ministry of National Defense and the Ministry of Environment, but they were reluctant to speak, saying nothing had been decided yet."
Initially, the Assemblymen acted as they always did. Knowing this was being broadcast, they puffed out their chests to establish their authority rather than praising a job well done, even in front of a conglomerate executive. They began to interrogate him as if he were a suspect. It was likely an attempt to pin down liability, and his father, knowing this, had hoped his son wouldn't lose his nerve. He was a blunt father who would curse a blue streak at his own son, but he was like any other father—he could curse his own child, but he couldn't stand by and watch others do it.
The Assemblymen, flustered because they were the ones being interrogated, began to cross the line, moving beyond the questions they had originally agreed upon.
"A businessman should only think about economic matters, and act accordingly. Why did the witness, on his own... arbitrarily... cause a disturbance and offend the public sentiment when the government would have handled it anyway? This is..."
"Offend the public sentiment?"
"..."
"It feels as if I’ve come here as some kind of arch-criminal. I don't feel like a witness; I feel like a defendant."
Starting with that, he began to captivate the Assemblymen, the government officials, and even the viewers watching the broadcast with a power of speech that seemed to come from nowhere.
"Assemblymen, these days, if someone collapses from a heart attack on the street, people don't even help them. Is it because they're lazy? No, it's because they're afraid that if they perform CPR, they'll break a rib, or get sued for sexual harassment. Do you all know that?"
"..."
"Honestly, I don't know what I did wrong. Did I commit such a grave sin? We just heard the news that the ship we were planning to contract with—the ship we had contracted with—had run aground. We thought that since we had the equipment, the manpower, and the time to help, we should go without hesitation. We went because we believed we could do it, and so we succeeded. My hands—look at my hands."
He spread his palms to show everyone, making sure the cameras could catch it. The unhealed wounds from gripping the ropes with all his might were starkly visible on his palms. The Assemblymen averted their eyes.
"I didn't want to go alone, either. I wanted to work with the people who were supposed to do this, the people whose job it is. Do you think I, someone who sits in an office all day tapping on a computer, knew what the weather was like or when a tidal wave would hit? But I went because I thought I could do it. The news reported that if we hadn't saved the ship, more oil would have leaked and everyone on board would have died. I went through all that trouble to ensure those people didn't die, that they were treated, and to make it an 'easy job' of just cleaning up the leaked oil."
"..."
"Public sentiment... I think it would be better if the citizens watching this broadcast told me. Is what I did really something that offends the public sentiment? If holding the center of a stranded ship with a rope, swallowing seawater, and feeling like I couldn't breathe was offending the public sentiment, then I will say I was wrong. If it was offending the public sentiment to go through hell at dawn with people I didn't even know to protect an ocean environment I'd never visited, then I will accept the punishment. If it’s a crime that I launched a helicopter in the morning to let my employees from Geoje Island go home comfortably, causing noise, then I will submit to an investigation."
The Assemblymen, his father, and the executives from other companies couldn't say a word. He, who had always had an image of being gentle and foolishly kind, was now standing before a group of politicians he had never met, delivering a speech that forced them all to shut their mouths.
"Who can investigate me? What prosecutor or police officer can investigate me? I don't think they can, so I truly cannot understand why you Assemblymen are scolding me. I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know what I did, or why my company's executives have to be here since the morning to hold their seats. I truly don't know."
The committee chairman looked around without saying a word, and the other Assemblymen pretended to examine the documents they had brought, avoiding his gaze. He knew the reason why. His father thought he wouldn't know, but it was because of what Eunbyul had told him that morning.
And that day, the channel broadcasting the National Assembly recorded its highest ratings since its inception.
Citizens had expected him to come to the hearing to receive praise, or perhaps to help with the accident investigation to gain more favor, but their expressions soured at the Assemblymen's bizarre, repetitive questions. The public hadn't expected much and had only intended to criticize the National Assembly. After all, how could a businessman sitting in such a seat stand up to a National Assemblyman? But then, when he said, "Honestly, I don't know what I did wrong. Did I commit such a grave sin?" and "Who can investigate me? What prosecutor or police officer can investigate me?" the real-time comment section seemed to freeze. As soon as the committee chairman, having regained his composure after his speech, called for a 30-minute break, the comments exploded. Half were criticizing the National Assembly, just as they were on the news, and the other half...
As time passed, the conversation shifted.
At that moment, he, the other executives, his father, and finally Eunbyul, moved to a nearby private restaurant for lunch. He had intended to eat with his father while the other staff ate separately, but—
"Just let everyone eat together. It's not like the Chairman is anything special."
"...Hey, you brat..."
"I'm the one who did a good job, so follow my lead. Have you ever carried people off a ship?"
"..."
The Chairman, who had a lot to discuss privately, nudged him with his elbow and gestured with his chin, but he sat down at the group table regardless. Eunbyul sat next to him, and the Chairman sat opposite him. Just as the other staff members were about to pick up their spoons with a mix of curiosity and tension, the Chairman, who was eating, asked him.
"...Suhyun-ah."
"Yes!"
"I didn't know you were such a good talker."
"..."
He turned his gaze to the table, expecting another lecture to begin, but—
"I thought you’d just apologize for those parts. I never thought you’d argue back."
"...Ah, well..."
"What's the reason?"
The Chairman was well-versed in the relationship between the National Assembly and the Presidential Office, and he knew all about the Assemblymen who had questioned him today. He had been worried that his son would be discouraged if such an attack came, but seeing his son break through it and charge forward, he was first bewildered, then nodded as he heard the logical points, and finally, was filled with nothing but surprise.
"That... actually, it wasn't my idea..."
"..."
Eunbyul seemed to be pressing down on his thigh from the side, but he ignored it.
"My secretary here told me."
All eyes turned to Eunbyul.