The First Blow That Shook Yeojin City, and the Choice

I replied with a faint smile.

"Thank you for that precious resolve."

I paused for a moment, studying my opponent. Then I continued in a rather more aggressive tone.

"Your family has lived here since your parents' generation, and you yourself have spent your entire life in Yeojin City — so you've said. But where do your children live now? As I understand it, they've settled in Seoul."

A brief silence followed. I pressed one step further.

"You seem to dwell in the past, making no preparation for the future. Is it truly right to stand before these citizens and promise to grow a city that even your own family has left behind?"

I went on in a calm voice, one charged with conviction.

"I am ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a descendant of the Yeo family of Yeojin, and my name, Yeo Mu-jin, was given to me by my father. He placed the character mu — the one from the word for 'boundless' — in the middle of it, wishing that I would advance without end for Yeojin City."

I looked the former vice mayor straight in the eye as I spoke.

"I am not yet married, and I have no children. I grew up here as a boy, but I spent years away from Yeojin. In the end, though, my love for this city brought me back — and now I am prepared to devote my future to it."

When I finished, a short silence hung in the air. I watched my opponent's face and smiled quietly.

"In Seoul, I founded and ran an artificial intelligence startup. In the process, I saw firsthand how new technology can transform a city and its government."

I brought up the screen.

"Yeojin City is mired in economic decline, and its young people keep leaving. It is time we found a new answer. I will introduce a smart administration system built on artificial intelligence and big data."

"A smart administration system?"

"Yes. Rather than relying on administrative experience alone, it is a system that formulates policy from data and maximizes efficiency. Business attraction, startup support, infrastructure improvement, real estate management, transportation innovation — I will manage all of it with technology and data, and turn our government into one that responds to change in real time."

A murmur rose from the audience seats.

It was an approach no established politician had ever spoken of.

"Do you know why young people leave Yeojin City? Because there are no jobs, no opportunities, no future. I will bring an AI-based startup incubator to Yeojin and dramatically improve support for young entrepreneurs."

I turned my gaze back to the former vice mayor.

"You said administrative experience matters, didn't you? Then tell me — can that experience of yours produce this kind of innovative change?"

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He knew it was impossible on administrative experience alone.

Looking out at the audience, I threw out my final line.

"Will we decline steadily, or grow through innovation? The choice now belongs to you, the citizens."

In that instant, applause erupted through the quiet hall.

At first only a few hands were clapping, but the sound swelled and spread through the room. The reporters vied with one another to snap photographs.

After the debate ended, Kang Seol-heon came over.

"Well done, Candidate. It seems to have gone as you intended, though we'll need to watch how things shift from here."

I answered with a wry smile.

"True. We've made the attempt — now let's see how things change."

She could easily have said something nice for once. But true to form, unlike the others who were all polish and no substance, Kang Seol-heon judged the situation with perfect coolness even in a moment like this.

As expected, I had chosen the right person to build this with.

The primary entered its final stretch. Public opinion had begun to turn after the debate, but victory was still no sure thing.

The other candidates had barely been affected, but the former vice mayor still held a rock-solid base of support built on personal connections.

An image of being merely 'young' and 'innovative' wasn't enough. I needed to deliver a definitive message to the people.

The answer was clear. A vision presentation.

"Unlike the candidates who have done nothing but talk, I intend to show you directly."

I declared it at the campaign meeting, to Kang Seol-heon and the rest of the team.

"Let's hold a vision presentation. I will explain to the citizens myself how I intend to change Yeojin City."

"You mean, in a way the established politicians never have?"

Kang Seol-heon asked.

"Exactly. Not just throwing out slogans — showing concrete plans and giving citizens the chance to choose for themselves."

In that moment, the mood of the campaign shifted. We needed a strategy that went beyond mere electioneering — one that let people feel the change for themselves.

The vision presentation was held at the Yeojin City Citizens' Hall. I wondered whether any political event in Yeojin had ever drawn such a crowd.

The crush of people began right at the entrance, enough to fluster even our own campaign staff. The seats were already full, and citizens stood packed at the back to watch. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠press turned out in force.

A large screen had been installed on the stage — not for slogans, but to show real change.

I stood at the center of the stage. Every eye in the room fixed on me.

"Hello. I am Yeo Mu-jin."

After the brief greeting, I pulled up the display. The problems facing Yeojin today appeared on the screen in clean, simple graphics.

"This city is in crisis."

I continued calmly.

"Now we must choose. Do we sit back and watch things stay as they are, or do we make change happen?"

The screen advanced, unfolding the innovative changes I was proposing.

The screen changed again, setting Yeojin's present beside its transformed future: the worn streets of the old downtown regaining their vitality, the transportation system overhauled, young people no longer leaving in search of work.

Somewhere in the hall, someone let out a quiet gasp of admiration.

"Until now, we have been comfortable with 'the old way.' But the time has come to choose the future, not the past."

I said it slowly, looking around at the audience.

"I can transform this city. And we will build that change together."

In that instant, applause burst through the quiet Citizens' Hall. At first it was only a few people, but it swelled and spread through the room. The reporters hammered their shutters again and again.

"This is... seriously incredible."

"Feels like something might actually change, huh?"

"Most realistic candidate I've seen yet."

The voices rising from the crowd stuck in my ears.

Three days before the primary vote, I issued an official statement — a declaration carrying a strong message, different in key from my earlier policy announcements.

"Yeojin City now stands at a critical crossroads."

I stared into the camera and spoke slowly.

"Do we leave things as they are, the way the old politicians always have? Or do we choose new change?"

I gathered my breath for a moment, then went on.

"Over the past few weeks, I believe I have shown you what Yeojin could become. And yet our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠city still tries to remain in the past."

I lowered my voice a little, but added with even greater force.

"With the election right upon us, certain candidates still lean on machine politics. I want to ask: if they win that way, can they truly build a new Yeojin?"

A brief silence passed. I spoke again, driving the words home.

"Now it is you, the citizens, who must choose. Return to the familiar politics of the past, or build a new future."

For all that I was throwing out such a hard message, the truth was that I, too, was drawing on my father's National Assembly organization to some extent. But there was a clear difference.

They sent out text messages every single day, pouring their energy into slander and black propaganda against me. Discussion of policy had vanished entirely; they were consumed by nothing but a negative campaign.

Citizens were growing weary of it. I even heard that some people had blocked their numbers outright.

I met their attacks head-on while simultaneously running a strategy of actively promoting our own policies.

If they insisted on fighting the election by the methods of a bygone era, then I would stake the game on making our strengths known to the citizens who were information-savvy and rational.

On the night before the primary vote, tension hung over the campaign office. The online and ARS telephone voting that would decide the candidate for the Yeojin City by-election was about to begin.

"The other side is mobilizing their machine vote at full force."

Kang Seol-heon said, handing me a report.

"They're running an aggressive phone campaign targeting local figures and party members. The former vice mayor's camp in particular is intensifying one-on-one contact with party members to plead for support."

I nodded. It was the expected move. In a place like Yeojin, even a primary inevitably became a battle of organizations, and the traditional politicians were masters at wielding them.

"And how much have we secured on our side?"

Kang Seol-heon passed over her materials.

"The atmosphere has definitely shifted since the vision presentation. We've all but locked in the younger voters, and the neutral party members are starting to lean your way. But the existing machine vote is split down the middle — Assemblyman Yeo Byeong-guk holds half and the opposing candidate the other half — so the situation remains precarious."

I set the report down and spoke quietly.

"To seize ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠victory outright, we'll need one final blow."

Kang Seol-heon nodded.

"We need a way to shake loose their machine vote."

The office fell quiet. Everyone was thinking the same thing. On this night, we needed one decisive move.

We couldn't clear this wall the old way.

But a way unlike anything we'd tried until now — that could work.

I slowly set down the pen in my hand. Then I spoke.

"Until now, I've shown people who I am. Now it's time to let them say for themselves why they should vote for me."

Kang Seol-heon's eyes narrowed faintly. After a moment, she gave a slow nod.

"So you mean to close this out with the citizens' own words."

"That's right. The finale won't be mine — it will end with the voice of the citizens."

One day before the primary vote opened, the campaign launched its final strategy.

We ran ARS phone messages to voters carrying the line "Now is the time to choose change," while simultaneously throwing ourselves into a last-minute publicity battle across online communities and social media.

In truth, in a city of a hundred thousand like Yeojin, this kind of operation was not especially difficult. A sturdy election organization had already been built, and most of its members were people who were active and prominent in community life.

With them at the core, we made sure election-related information was continuously updated and shared in their various group chats.

Our camp also had a strength that set us apart from the other candidates: it was stocked with young, capable talent — and, crucially, the startup PR specialists who had worked with me in Seoul had joined as well.

They produced online-friendly content at speed — card news, short-form videos — spreading our message far and wide. The results began to show almost immediately.

The opposing camp, by contrast, put out no policy message whatsoever, concentrating solely on sending smear texts. Several times a day they fired off messages packed with abuse and black propaganda at the voters, devoting every ounce of their energy to attacking us.

But the citizens' reaction was icy. Many blocked their texts outright, and the exhaustion was curdling into open resentment.

Our camp seized on the opening. Instead of answering their negative offensive blow for blow, we doubled down on promoting the policies and vision we were offering.

We threw the entire phone campaign team into consolidating our base and steering voters disillusioned with the old political establishment toward choosing us.

"Candidate, the responses are coming in."

Kang Seol-heon reported, phone in hand.

"Online, the mood of 'things have to change now' is spreading."

And sure enough, the current of change was detectable across social media and the online communities.

The message we had prepared was unmistakably getting through. All that remained was the citizens' choice.