Seventh Republic: "Oh, Jae-won, You've Come?"
It was Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon, who always greeted him with those warm, familiar words: "Oh, Jae-won, you've come?" But now he lay unconscious in the hospital bed. Even though Yoo Jae-won was seeing it with his own eyes, he could not believe it. After all, Jeon Myeong-heon's presence had always loomed like a giant in his life.
In his previous life, while he had been meticulously crafting his master plan, he never imagined his relationship with Jeon Myeong-heon would grow this deep. Back then, his evaluation of the man had been high in economic terms, but he viewed him as someone who, in his later years, had been swept up in political ambition and stumbled from one mistake to the next. No matter what anyone around him said, Jeon Myeong-heon would brush it aside and charge forward with bullheaded stubbornness, ultimately making the wrong choices and dragging everyone around him into hardship. That was why Yoo Jae-won's master plan had contained almost nothing related to Jeon Myeong-heon. Their current relationship, therefore, felt nothing short of miraculous. Accepting that the grandfather lying unconscious in that bed was Jeon Myeong-heon proved incredibly difficult for Yoo Jae-won.
What made it even harder was that the Jeon Myeong-heon he had always known was a towering figure, yet now he appeared as nothing more than an ordinary, frail old man well into his eighties. It felt not just awkward, but downright pitiful and heartbreaking. Yoo Jae-won wanted to take his hand, but he could not. The situation was far too grave. Contact with Jeon Myeong-heon was currently restricted to medical personnel only.
"The direct cause of the President's collapse is a cerebral hemorrhage," the President's personal physician informed Yoo Jae-won.
"A cerebral hemorrhage..."
It was a deadly condition capable of killing even a healthy young man. He had suspected the worst upon seeing the bandages wrapped around the head, but this was the absolute worst outcome.
"While it can occur due to old age, the specialists believe the effects of overwork are the greater factor."
Old age and overwork. It would not be an exaggeration to say both had played a role. The overwork naturally came from his duties as President. Jeon Myeong-heon's style had always been to rise at dawn and work late into the night. Even after becoming President, that habit remained unchanged, and for a time "morning person" became something of a national trend.
These days, political difficulties stemming from the constitutional amendment were pouring in like a flood. Thanks to Yoo Jae-won's advice, they had dealt a heavy blow to right-wing forces including Daehan Ilbo and the Democratic Korea Party, but the backlash was fierce and massive. Though they were a numerical minority, their social standing and loud voices made it seem as though the majority was speaking in unison, rendering them impossible to ignore.
Recently, campaign finance issues from both the previous and current presidential elections had risen to the surface. Jeon Myeong-heon had tried to handle it quietly through back-channel work, but what Yoo Jae-won had considered unlikely had exploded anyway. The reason he had viewed the possibility as low was simple: every National Assembly member had different interests. For some, exposure of the presidential funds would be fatal, while for others it would be advantageous. Jeon Myeong-heon's political skill had evolved, allowing him to classify those tendencies and make contact accordingly, but a single misalignment could trigger an incident like this.
At least they had been fortunate that Daehan Ilbo's owner family was being thoroughly investigated over the drug scandal, celebrity prostitution case, tax evasion charges, and foreign exchange law violations, preventing the paper from striking back. On top of that, the news of Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon's collapse was swallowing every other issue in South Korea. For the third time, the Korean people worried with genuine sincerity. All they needed now was for the grandfather to rise from his bed in good health. Yet Jeon Myeong-heon showed no signs of waking.
Several days passed. The vote on the constitutional amendment bill now had only one day remaining. The National Assembly, indeed the entire country, had become a boiling cauldron of chaos.
First, voices emerged from the ruling party suggesting they delay the vote that would decide whether to submit the amendment to a national referendum. Naturally, the opposition opposed any delay. President Jeon Myeong-heon's collapse was a serious national security matter, but if the Jeon Myeong-heon administration's amendment bill were discarded as things stood, nothing could be better for the opposition.
Postponement was difficult anyway. Once the government proposed a constitutional amendment, the National Assembly was legally bound to review and vote on it.
Opposition figures could not laugh openly at Jeon Myeong-heon's collapse, but in their hearts they breathed deep sighs of relief. Meanwhile, Daehan Ilbo made no effort to hide its glee. This was only natural. The Jeon Myeong-heon administration's campaign against Daehan Ilbo had been blatantly aggressive: the amendment's provisions for purging pro-Japanese collaborators, the massive investigations into the owner's family's numerous charges, the large-scale tax audits, and the Resource Recycling Act. The recycling law in particular had caused the cost of producing paper newspapers to explode. If recycling worked as the statute intended, Daehan Ilbo would bear no burden. But the copies printed and sent straight to recycling companies without delivery represented pure loss.
To avoid those losses they needed to reduce the fake circulation numbers, but doing so would collapse their claimed two-million circulation figure. In its prime the paper had printed over three million copies daily, yet that had fallen to two million in just the last few years. At present, paid subscribers numbered only in the late one-million range, making the erosion of Daehan Ilbo's influence an undeniable fact.
Even so, Daehan Ilbo could not openly celebrate Jeon Myeong-heon's collapse. On the day the President fell, crowds had gathered to pray for his recovery, and their numbers had now grown enormous. Statements wishing Jeon Myeong-heon a speedy recovery poured in from around the world. The United States, Korea's closest ally, released an official statement in President Clinton's name, and Korea's other friendly nations followed suit. Even North Korea's Kim Jong-il wished him well and sent wild ginseng from Mount Kumgang.
In such an atmosphere, any editorial about karma or retribution would have turned Daehan Ilbo's headquarters into a sea of flames. The best outcome was for the amendment vote to happen as soon as possible, resulting in rejection and disposal. Of course, the bill could be proposed again in the next regular session, but rejection would mean the loss of reform momentum, making it extremely difficult to revive.
The far-right forces centered on Daehan Ilbo could only stare at the clock, praying for time to pass quickly.
"Chairman!"
Yoo Jae-won, who had nodded off for a moment, opened his eyes at Kim Dae-seok's call. A chorus of cracks sounded throughout his body. He had been staying in the VIP ward where Jeon Myeong-heon was hospitalized for several days now, but he still could not grow accustomed to the sleeping arrangements. The family space prepared for caregivers was luxurious, like a hotel suite, yet it remained a foreign bed to Yoo Jae-won.
"The President is expected to regain consciousness soon," Kim Dae-seok continued.
Yoo Jae-won snapped fully awake. No news could have been more welcome. The medical staff had viewed the chances of recovery as extremely low and had even urged them to prepare for the possibility that he might never wake. The Blue House had already designated Prime Minister Kim Dae-jung as acting president to prepare for any contingency.
Yoo Jae-won rose immediately and moved to Jeon Myeong-heon's room. The atmosphere had clearly changed. The security agents' eyes were sharper, and screening of the medical staff who came and went daily had grown far stricter. Even Yoo Jae-won and Jeon Myeong-heon's family were not exempt. After another thorough security check, he entered the room and saw Jeon Myeong-heon. The old man looked even more haggard than before. The only change was the brainwave monitor. Where it had once been calm as if in deep sleep, it now fluctuated vigorously, like light slumber.
"Father!" Jeon Jae-jun entered the room and called out loudly. Receiving glares from everyone, he immediately shrank back with a whimper. It seemed he had received incorrect information that his father had already awakened.
Several minutes passed.
"Mmm."
The waiting physician's eyes sharpened. At that moment, Yoo Jae-won clearly saw Jeon Myeong-heon's eyelids twitch.
"Ah!" This time it was Jeon Jae-gu. Usually composed and grave, even he could not contain his exclamation.
"Control yourselves! Have you forgotten the precautions?" the physician said in a low, firm voice. Jeon Jae-gu flinched and stepped back.
Jeon Myeong-heon's physician was already past sixty and one of the most respected authorities in Korean medicine. When it came to the President's treatment, he wielded considerable power. Removing disruptive people was a simple matter for him.
The greatest concern was that brain surgery for a cerebral hemorrhage could not guarantee success. They had opened the skull, located the torn vessel, and sealed the damage. The problem was the blood that had already leaked out. They had removed as much as modern medicine allowed, but residual blood remained that could block other vessels. No one could predict how much brain tissue had been damaged by the interrupted blood flow.
Brain damage would inevitably bring disabilities. Paralysis was possible. Permanent impairment of memory or speech was possible. In the worst case, brain function might never recover. In short, they had to prepare themselves mentally.
Therefore, observing Jeon Myeong-heon's current state as he woke was of paramount importance.
While everyone held their breath, the tips of Jeon Myeong-heon's fingers moved. It was a clear sign of consciousness returning. Everyone gasped and froze. Moments later, Jeon Myeong-heon's eyes opened. He blinked several times, unable to focus, then slowly looked around the room. His gaze fell on the unfamiliar ceiling, the medical staff and family surrounding him, and finally Yoo Jae-won. His eyes trembled violently.
"Mr. President, do you recognize me?" the physician asked first.
Jeon Myeong-heon gave a slight nod. The medical staff's faces brightened at once.
"Mmm."
Jeon Myeong-heon did not stop at nodding. He moved his mouth, clearly trying to speak. But after days of unconsciousness, his mouth did not cooperate easily. Just as Yoo Jae-won began to worry about possible language impairment, Jeon Myeong-heon's voice emerged.
"The... constitutional... amendment?"
His voice was weak, drained of strength, yet his pronunciation was perfectly clear.
Yoo Jae-won clicked his tongue inwardly. As expected of Jeon Myeong-heon. He had collapsed from a cerebral hemorrhage and remained unconscious for days. The situation had been critical enough that they might never have seen him again. At his advanced age, he had undergone dangerous brain surgery while unconscious and awakened after a miraculous struggle. Yet his first words were to ask about the progress of the constitutional amendment.
Naturally, the news that Jeon Myeong-heon had regained consciousness broke as an urgent bulletin. Follow-up reports of his first question about the amendment immediately spread across the entire country.
The nationwide rallies that had gathered to pray for his recovery quickly transformed into demonstrations supporting the constitutional amendment.
243 votes in favor, 45 against, 12 abstentions
The next day, evening newspapers splashed the news across their front pages in enormous headlines: the Jeon Myeong-heon administration's constitutional amendment bill had cleared the National Assembly. Some papers devoted multiple pages starting from the second section to print the full text of the bill.
Of course, they were all jumping on the bandwagon now. When the Jeon Myeong-heon administration had been waging its publicity campaign for the amendment, most newspapers had either minimized coverage or ignored it entirely. Right-wing papers had done so as expected, and left-leaning ones had followed suit. The reason was simple: they viewed everything through colored glasses because the bill came from Jeon Myeong-heon, a former chaebol leader.
Had Jeon Myeong-heon not awakened, the bill would almost certainly have been rejected. But the miraculously revived President asking "What about the amendment?" turned the entire nation upside down. If the bill had been rejected even then, the opposition party headquarters would have gone up in flames. The ruling party was no exception. To prevent any accusations of casting dissenting votes, ruling party members resolved to photograph their ballots with their phones before voting.
The camera module that came standard with Tiffany Phones had now become the industry standard. Recent models had advanced to the point where they could record video, albeit at low resolution.
National Assembly members made thorough preparations, agreeing to bring the latest camera-equipped phones into the plenary session to create evidence. The opposition, meanwhile, had no one to set a clear direction. If someone had stepped forward to take responsibility and declare they must oppose the bill, the situation might have differed. But no one volunteered to carry that burden. Even politicians who usually manufactured controversy when starved for attention sensed the severity of the crisis and stayed silent.
In the end, the constitutional amendment bill passed with the overwhelming support reported in the papers, and a national referendum was scheduled. The referendum itself was a foregone conclusion. In nationwide polls, support for the amendment exceeded even Jeon Myeong-heon's personal approval rating.
The unfortunate reality was that they could not truly rejoice at the bill's passage through the National Assembly. Although Jeon Myeong-heon had regained consciousness, his physical condition was steadily deteriorating. The physician told Jeon Myeong-heon's family and Yoo Jae-won that they must prepare themselves.