Transit Reform, the First Battle
"Woosoo Bus currently receives 7 billion won in subsidies every year. And yet they claim they can barely keep the lights on and demand even more support. So—what happens if we run it ourselves?"
I opened my laptop and pulled up a simple calculation.
"Right now, Woosoo Bus spends 130 million won per bus per year. But buried in that figure are the salaries of the CEO, the managing director, and the board members—not to mention their families, all being taken care of with company money. No wonder the costs are so high."
The division head nodded.
"And if we operate it ourselves?"
"Even a back-of-the-envelope calculation shows that stripping out management payroll and unnecessary overhead brings it down to 80 million won per bus. In other words, we'd be cutting costs by nearly 40 percent."
The division head stared silently at my laptop screen.
"Running 53 buses costs us roughly 7 billion won a year. Under public operation, that could drop below 4 billion. And once we're running the system ourselves, adjusting headways and restructuring routes becomes far easier too. No more trimming routes because the budget runs short."
I looked the division head straight in the eye.
"For 10 billion won, we can acquire the company. Direct city operation wouldn't just shrink the budget—it would let us deliver far better service to our citizens. Isn't that the more realistic choice?"
The division head seemed to sink into deep thought.
"Mr. Mayor, let me be frank with you. Public operation will obviously deliver cost savings in the short term. But if the city runs the buses directly, there will be pushback from inside City Hall as well. The city council in particular is very likely to oppose it hard. And there's a strong chance the existing Woosoo Bus management and the drivers' union will resist just as fiercely."
I smiled.
"Which is exactly why we need to start persuading Woosoo Bus—starting now."
Concern crept across the division head's face.
"...It won't be easy. Do you really think the Woosoo Bus CEO and his executives will give up their cash cow without a fight?"
"Then we give them options."
"What kind of options?"
I planted my hands on the desk and spoke slowly.
"First: we acquire Woosoo Bus, guarantee employment for the existing staff wherever possible, and convert to public operation. The current employees keep their jobs, and the citizens get better bus service."
"And second—"
I added, eyes gleaming:
"The city brings in a competitor and shatters Woosoo Bus's monopoly. In that scenario, their revenue dries up and they most likely get weeded out. Put the routes out to competitive bidding, and another operator could step in and run them for less."
The division head gave me a puzzled look.
"Weren't you talking about a buyout just a minute ago? Now suddenly you want to recruit a competitor?"
I simply watched him, a relaxed smile on my face. It was the reaction I'd expected.
Division Head Kim sighed and pressed on.
"Yeojin City has barely 100,000 residents. We're running a deficit as it is—what operator is going to come in with its own routes? Bus service is already a dying industry. In an age when everyone drives their own car, the city bus is mostly used by low-income residents with no other option and by seniors who can no longer drive. Attracting a competitor is practically impossible."
I nodded and slowly drummed my fingertips together.
"You're right, Division Head. Realistically, the odds of a new operator coming in are slim. But how can Woosoo Bus be certain of that?"
He frowned slightly as he looked at me.
"What exactly are you saying?"
I leaned forward and lowered my voice.
"This is the art of negotiation. What we want is to convert Woosoo Bus into a publicly operated system run by Yeojin City itself. But they will never accept that willingly. So we have to build the scenario they fear most."
His expression turned to disbelief.
"But in reality, there's no chance of a competitor actually showing up, is there?"
I shrugged.
"That's not what matters. What matters is making Woosoo Bus believe in that possibility."
I rose from my seat and walked to the window. Gazing out, I continued quietly.
"What Woosoo Bus fears most right now is uncertainty. Keep operating as they have, and their profits shrink. If competition appears, things get even harder. We hand them two options—and then we steer them, naturally, toward the one we want."
The division head studied me for a long moment, then finally shook his head with a light laugh.
"...So we're throwing a warning at Woosoo Bus: 'Keep going like this, and you could lose the market entirely.'"
I nodded and met his eyes.
"Precisely. What Woosoo Bus ultimately wants is stable revenue. But what happens if we invite competition? Their monopoly starts to wobble. At that point, letting us acquire them becomes the more rational choice."
I handed him the documents.
"Review these discreetly for now. We need to move as quickly and quietly as possible. If word gets out that we're making a move, the backlash will only swell."
The division head let out a long sigh and accepted the papers.
"...Understood, Mr. Mayor."
I returned to my seat with a smile.
"I'm simply handling the work efficiently. Now then—time to set Woosoo Bus in motion."
The moment the press release went out, a quiet tension settled over Yeojin City Hall.
Yeojin City Announces Complete Overhaul of Bus Route System!
Existing System to Be Fully Restructured Through Optimal Budget Allocation!
Line by line, the plan looked plausible enough. But the real problem lay elsewhere.
"Isn't this just another show?"
"Change what, exactly? You think it'll actually happen?"
Most of the reactions were cynical. Every time a new mayor took office, the same story played out. The phrase "bus route reform" no longer held even a shred of novelty. For decades, similar promises had been recycled with each change of administration, and almost nothing had actually changed.
The reason was simple: the bus company had the route rights in its grip.
Bus routes were, by design, a public system managed by the city. Legally speaking, ownership of the routes belonged to the city, not the operator. But reality was another matter entirely.
The bus company treated the routes as their own assets, like the premium on a storefront lease. Decades of operation, in their view, entitled them to compensation for any route change.
"So legally we have no rights? Fine. But try changing anything without our blessing and see how far you get."
That was their position. And no mayor had ever managed to climb over that wall.
So even a single route overhaul came wrapped in enormous resistance. Even adjusting headways was never simple. The moment you touched a route, the company pushed back.
"Take our routes away and another company moves in, is that it? Then don't expect us to sit still."
"You'll consult with us before changing any routes. Change them unilaterally and the drivers will revolt."
That was how it went. And in that environment, I hadn't merely proposed a route overhaul—I had stepped forward to run the bus company outright.
In South Korea, outside of island communities, no city had ever attempted public bus operation. No mayor had been willing to take the leap. Operating costs were burdensome, the operators' resistance was fierce, and the political price was steep.
But I knew: left as it was, Yeojin City's bus system would only keep falling apart. We couldn't keep being dragged around by the company's logic any longer. This time, things had to change.
The city council plenary chamber.
Just one day after the press release, questions about the bus route overhaul dominated the administrative question period. Exactly the reaction I'd expected. I stood at the podium alongside Kim Jin-soo, head of the Public Transportation Division.
"Mr. Mayor, please explain the specific plans for this bus route overhaul."
A councilor gripping the microphone cut straight to the point. I flipped open the documents I'd prepared and answered.
"The core of this reform is moving away from our current large-bus-centered operation. We'll be expanding the village bus network and deploying trunk-line buses efficiently."
Kim Jin-soo immediately stepped in with the details.
"Yeojin City's bus routes are currently concentrated in the urban core. As a result, residents of the outlying areas have to travel long distances just to reach a stop. To resolve this, we plan to introduce additional village buses."
I nodded and continued.
"We're dividing the routes into two broad categories. First, a trunk bus system connecting the old downtown, the new district we'll be developing, and Gwangseong City. The old downtown is packed with public institutions, and the new district will be dense with commercial facilities, so linking the two is essential. We'll hold headways to five-to-ten-minute intervals so citizens can move around with ease."
A few councilors nodded as they reviewed the materials.
"Second, restructuring the village bus system. Currently, city buses stop at each village's roadside stop. Going forward, they'll run all the way to the village community halls. In other words, we're changing the structure so residents can board practically at their front doors."
One councilor raised a hand.
"Then how will bus scheduling work in the township areas?"
Division Head Kim passed out the prepared materials and explained.
"Yeojin City currently has twenty rural villages. We plan to deploy one village bus for every two of them—ten buses in total. Headways will run between twenty minutes and an hour, and each bus, after leaving its village, will stop at the township office before running express straight to the old downtown terminal."
The moment I finished, several councilors began flipping through the materials, murmuring quietly among themselves. One of them raised a hand.
"Mr. Mayor, I understand village bus service was considered before, only to fall through over poor operational efficiency. Do you believe this time will be different?"
I leaned slightly forward in my seat and answered.
"There is a difference. The old plan had buses running from village stops into town; this one takes them directly into the village community halls. We're not just building stops and running routes—we're redesigning the system so that seniors and the transit-disadvantaged can actually use it."
A brief silence. Meaningful glances flickered across the chamber.
Division Head Kim tidied his materials and added:
"Yeojin City has a high proportion of elderly residents. Many of them can't make proper use of the buses simply because the stops are too far away. But if they can board right at the village hall, a trip to the hospital or a government office becomes far easier. And since the senior free-ride program stays in place, they'll be able to use public transit without any added cost burden."
"Then how does it connect with the existing routes?"
"Simple."
I took over again.
"Every village bus will be anchored at the old downtown terminal. In the past, buses departed from each village stop and made their own way into town; this time, we'll integrate them with the terminal and overhaul the transfer system."
Silence fell again.
This time the mood was subtly different from before. Even the councilors who had been raising objections were now studying the route plans, no longer pressing their challenges.
I let my gaze drift slowly around the room as I spoke.
"In the end, what matters in transit is practicality. The people using it have to find it convenient, and it has to actually get them where they're going. What we need isn't a cosmetic overhaul but change that citizens can feel."
Kim Jin-soo drew a quiet breath. This reform plan had already broken the existing mold. But with a design this thorough, even the opposition would struggle to find a flaw to seize on.
One councilor coughed from his seat and spoke up.
"Mr. Mayor, the approach itself is interesting. But realistically, is it feasible? The problem will be the budget, won't it? Expanding the village bus fleet and covering operating costs will take money."
I smiled and rested my hands on the table.
"Which is why I've worked out a way to solve it within the existing budget."
Instantly, several councilors turned back to their documents. Kim Jin-soo let out a small sigh as well, wearing the look of a man who could see exactly where this was going.
"Annual operating costs run about 80 million won per village bus. Ten buses comes to 800 million won a year. Considering what we're already spending on operations, that's far more economical. We won't recoup the full cost, but we can deliver real change at a far lighter burden than before."
"...So in the end, we'll still have to negotiate with the bus company?"
"That's right."
Silence settled over the chamber once more. Everyone seemed to be weighing something. And that something was singular.
Would this collapse like all the rest—or would it actually happen?
Breaking the brief stillness, one councilor spoke.
"Proceed, for now. But the negotiation with Woosoo Bus will be the critical part. Even the best policy means nothing if it never gets implemented."
I nodded and looked around the chamber. The opposition was thinning. This time would be different.
Now, it was time to set Woosoo Bus in motion.