Redrawing the City's Direction
Snow was falling outside the window. There was no moisture running down the glass—only white crystals drifting slowly down.
The air was biting cold, but thanks to that landscape, the city looked quieter than usual. I watched the snow for a moment, then slowly looked around the conference room.
Inside, a completely different temperature filled the room. It was hot, and it was taut. I had summoned everyone from the Director of the Urban Space Bureau on up, including all division heads. To anyone watching, the atmosphere clearly signaled that something big was about to break.
The people seated there wore expressions of puzzled unease, but I had resolved to drop the hammer today. Yes—today was the day of declaration.
From among the stack of documents on the desk, I quietly picked up the printout resting on top. It was the draft of the press release.
Once the meeting ended, I was scheduled to go straight down to the press room. But before that, I had to make one final round of clarification inside this room. If the interior wavers, the exterior shakes.
I set the papers down on the desk and spoke.
“We are conducting a full review of the new city development plan. We will relocate the candidate site from the outskirts to an area adjacent to the old city center.”
At first, silence. But it didn't last long.
“Mr. Mayor, that measure has already passed deliberation by the Urban Planning Committee!”
The Director of the Urban Space Bureau planted his hands on the desk and raised his voice.
“Where is the consistency of administration, where is the procedural legitimacy? Being notified of something like this, right here and now, is... far too sudden.”
I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye. It was the reaction I had expected.
“The Urban Planning Committee is an advisory body. The decision rests with the Mayor. And I will take responsibility for it.”
“If you overturn a measure that advisory body passed through proper procedure with a single sentence, the credibility of the entire administration will shake. The blueprints, the environmental impact assessment, the preliminary resident briefings—we went through all of it. This is unacceptable.”
The Head of the Planning and Coordination Office interjected carefully.
“Mr. Mayor, if this decision becomes public, it could escalate into accusations that you're 'disempowering the committee.' The City Council won't sit quietly either.”
“Neither will the press.”
The Public Relations Team Lead added in a low voice.
“And isn't that exactly what my team is here for?”
Chief of Staff Kang Seol-heon retorted quietly, and for a brief moment a current—of laughter, or of tension, it was hard to tell—flowed through the room.
But it was my job to cut through that air again.
“The new city candidate site we've been pushing forward—what is citizen access like?”
Jeong Yeon-woo, Head of the Urban Planning Division, silently held up a single sheet. Inside the circle marked on the map, a line was printed in red ink: 25 minutes by car, over 50 minutes by bus.
He spoke quietly.
“Utilizing the existing transit network is difficult, and commercial districts and educational facilities are more than 3 kilometers away. There is a high risk the residential catchment will be cut off entirely.”
I picked up where he left off.
“A city must live close to its citizens' daily lives. Building a city outside the city is a convenience for the administration and an inconvenience for the people. We are not trying to grow a city. We are trying to bring life closer.”
Vice Mayor Jin Mu-gyeol, who always listened quietly, spoke up for the first time in a long while.
“The candidate site near the old city center that you've put forward is already the subject of filed complaints. It sits adjacent to a planned incinerator site, and environmental concerns, local opposition, and real estate interests are all tangled up in it.”
“Which is exactly why we should build a city that eases those burdens.”
I stopped there. The air in the room rippled. Some directors turned their heads away; others lowered their eyes.
But I had no intention of adding more. This decision had already been explained enough—what remained was the declaration.
I read the first sentence of the press release slowly once more, then said:
“The responsibility is mine.”
When I said those words, the air in the room momentarily sank. But it was not the silence of agreement.
It was the silence of shock and conflict holding their tongues and turning their heads.
Everyone had heard the words. Accepting them, however, would take time.
I deliberately paused for a few seconds. My gaze faced the front of the room, but my mind was sweeping over each and every expression of the attendees.
Kang Seol-heon was pretending to organize documents while still observing the faces around the room, and Cho Yeon-woo pressed down on his papers with his fingertips, head slightly bowed.
I opened my mouth again. This time, I lowered my tone—keeping the firmness, but adding the warmth of gentle persuasion.
“I fully understand the concerns you've raised. I will not disregard procedure. I respect the process the Urban Planning Committee went through. But what we need to grapple with in this room right now is not simply whether that measure passed or not.”
On the right side of the room, the Director of the Environment Bureau raised his hand. He spoke cautiously.
“Mr. Mayor, the candidate site near the old city center was barely even mentioned in our internal discussions. Of course, from an ecological standpoint it may be better than the existing site, but an announcement this abrupt could provoke opposition from the entire community.”
I nodded. It was a good thing that opinions like this were surfacing.
Opposition is a response. And a response becomes a foothold for persuasion.
“Which is why everything from this point forward matters. We are not building yet another city on the outskirts—we are adjusting the city's structure for the people who remain within it. No matter how well-oiled the procedures are, if the result inconveniences citizens' lives and deepens regional imbalance, then it must be changed. Administration is not a technique. It is empathy for people. A plan that repeats itself without reading reality will, in the end, return as failure.”
Only then did a few of the directors begin to lift their heads. Noh Chae-eun set down her pen and spoke slowly.
“Mr. Mayor, if we're proceeding on the premise of relocating the candidate site, then we'll need concrete strategy and supporting data for that location. We need the certainty that this is a conversion that can persuade people internally as well.”
I looked toward Cho Yeon-woo and nodded.
“You've prepared an analysis. Please walk us through the key points briefly.”
Cho Yeon-woo lifted his head and spoke carefully.
“Yes, Mr. Mayor. The new candidate site is near the old district, directly connected to bus stops and within walking distance. It sits adjacent to two elementary schools and one welfare facility. In particular, the nearby elementary school has seen its enrollment steadily decline due to the hollowing out of the urban core, so an influx of population would directly help solve that problem. We can also expect a revitalization effect on the existing commercial district.”
He turned over the blueprint in his hands lightly and continued.
“The existing site, by contrast, is structured entirely around car travel, and its connection to detached residential neighborhoods is poor. Land acquisition there would be difficult, but factoring in the linkage to everyday living zones, the cost-effectiveness actually favors the new site.”
With that explanation, the atmosphere in the room changed markedly. The Director of the Urban Space Bureau, who had been keeping his head down, quietly spoke.
“I will review the materials more thoroughly. However, the schedule will inevitably need to be adjusted.”
I nodded.
“We will adjust the schedule. In exchange, let us settle the direction firmly. We are not building another island on the city's edge. We are building a foothold connected to the lives of our citizens.”
Only then did the voices of fierce resistance in the room die down. In their place, cautious questions and discussion began to fill the space.
That was exactly the flow I had wanted.
“Every step of this process will be documented, and we will report officially to the City Council. This is not mayoral fiat. It is a change of direction. Let's work through the technical coordination and the administrative follow-up together.”
Only after saying that did I finally turn my eyes back to the press release.
Outside the window, the snow went on falling in silence, and the temperature of the city wrapped around the conference room was changing—slowly, but unmistakably.
By the time the meeting ended, the snow outside was still falling quietly. It had piled up higher than in the morning, but it had not stopped the city from moving.
The same was true inside the conference room. The resistance had faded, replaced by careful discussion filling the space.
When Chief of Staff Kang Seol-heon wrapped up the closing remarks, the directors and division heads filed out in twos and threes.
Some wore the traces of agreement; some still looked doubtful. But not a single person wore the expression of someone who had been steamrolled.
I had explained myself fully, and at least on the necessity of the direction itself, the organization seemed to be coming around.
To Cho Yeon-woo, I offered nothing more than a glance. No words were needed. His data and his explanation had balanced the meeting and done more than anything else to dissolve the internal doubts.
I stayed behind in the conference room a while longer and unfolded the printed press release once more. Each sentence was now destined to become words spoken to the outside world.
It might be received not as administration but as politics, interpreted not as policy but as declaration. Knowing that weight, I read the final sentence again.
“A city must stand close to the places where its citizens breathe.”
“Mr. Mayor.”
Chief of Staff Kang Seol-heon approached quietly.
“The reporters have arrived. The major outlets are all seated in the front row.”
I nodded and rose from my seat. Quietly refastening the buttons of my jacket, I picked up a copy of the press release and headed for the door.
In the briefing room where the public relations staff had guided me, nearly ten reporters were already seated. Laptops and notepads rested on the tables in front of their name cards, along with simple refreshments, and the unlit room was filled with a refined sort of tension.
I stood before the podium.
“I would like to formally state Yeojin City's position on the new city development plan, a matter the community has been increasingly curious about in recent weeks.”
A brief silence fell, and in that moment several reporters lifted their pens to their notebooks. One raised his head; another, his gaze fixed hard and steady, slid his recorder forward.
“The candidate site we have pursued until now lies on the outskirts, disconnected from the daily living zones of our citizens. Transportation, education, and commerce were all disadvantageous there, and for the average resident, it was simply an inconvenient place to reach.”
I paused briefly, reading the reporters' reactions. Some nodded; others continued to listen in silence.
“Accordingly, Yeojin City has decided to conduct a full review of the existing plan and designate the area near the old city center as the new development candidate site. This decision is not one of administrative convenience. It is a judgment that places the daily lives of our citizens above all else.”
Camera shutters rang out once or twice, briefly.
I added the final sentence calmly.
“We respect the deliberations of the Urban Planning Committee. But the final decision is the Mayor's authority—and the Mayor's responsibility. I will bear that responsibility.”
The moment the words left my mouth, a brief murmur rippled through the reporters. Some bent their heads to organize their questions; others were timing the moment to raise their hands.
And then one of them set down his pen. His eyes were deep, and his question already seemed settled in his mind.