Desire
The morning of the final day of official campaigning, Pyeon Seongyeop of the Together Democratic Party woke but couldn't bring himself to sit up. The clock read 5:30. If he got moving now, he could still make himself presentable before heading out—wash his hair, shave, the works. Back in the 2010s, showing up looking exhausted and pitiful had been an effective campaign tactic, but these days the haggard look didn't sell anymore. His condition had already been strangely poor of late, and if he wanted to clean himself up at all, he needed to get up right this minute.
"Are you all right? Why are you only opening one eye?"
Even under his wife's worried gaze, Pyeon Seongyeop couldn't make his body move. His head felt like it was packed with lead. A strange sound pulsed at his temples—thump, thump, thump—and the fatigue was crushing. He'd slept a good five hours, yet he felt like he'd pulled an all-nighter.
"Should I call the camp? Cancel the morning schedule?"
"No."
I'm just tired. That's all it is. He wanted to smile and reassure his wife, but the attempt fell flat. Pyeon Seongyeop needed time—time to recover at least a fraction of his strength, and time to figure out why his body was betraying him like this.
A hangover... right. A hangover. That whiskey I had last night. Ever since that bastard Min Seojun had started making noise about his health, the stress had been eating at him. Last night, too, he'd downed two glasses of whiskey just to fall asleep. Probably the aftereffects from that. It had to be nothing else.
Min Seojun, that despicable bastard. An MRI? An ultrasound? He'd dressed it up as concern, but wasn't the whole point to push the health-scare narrative? Don't want a corpse to clean out of the mayor's office? Then don't vote for Pyeon Seongyeop—vote for me, young and healthy. That had to be the angle.
"Won't work. Are the people of Maeshan stuhpid?"
"You can barely get the words out. This isn't going to work. Let's just get you to a hospital."
"I told you, I'm not shick...!"
Pyeon Seongyeop had always taken pride in his health. Even as a kid he'd been decent at sports and a strong runner. He'd done his military service in Hwacheon, spending his twenties on the front line staring down North Korean soldiers across the border—that was steel-tier stamina. He'd never once been hospitalized in his entire life.
"I'm fine."
What was a little dizziness during election season, anyway? A short rest and he'd be right as rain. And sure enough, after lying still for a while, his limbs started responding and the headache gradually subsided.
See? Told you I was fine.
Pyeon Seongyeop got ready to head out campaigning as usual. His wife still wore a worried expression, though.
"Don't you want to be the mayor's wife?"
"..."
"Election day isn't the day after tomorrow—it's tomorrow. Just one more day. That's all it takes."
"One day... All right. It's just one day."
His wife accepted his reasoning without further protest. She'd been his partner for twenty years, standing behind him every step of the way. From the very beginning, the two of them had set their sights on the mayor's office rather than the National Assembly. Maesan wasn't a large city, so in terms of prestige an Assembly seat carried more weight—but when it came to real power and money, the mayor's office was where the gold was.
"I just need to get through today...!"
Steeling himself, Pyeon Seongyeop left the house. Today marked the close of official campaigning for the local elections. It was his last chance to appeal to the voters, and the schedule had been packed accordingly—the most brutal itinerary he'd ever faced, worse than any campaign before it. But if he wanted to be mayor, he had to endure it.
9:00 AM. Market tour. Pyeon Seongyeop's tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth, making it hard to speak.
"People of Maeshan! Candidate number one, Pyeon Sheongyeop! Give me your vote!"
His pronunciation was labored. At least his body was still moving well enough—wasn't that proof his condition was improving? But the people around him seemed to think otherwise.
"Candidate Pyeon, I've said this before, but your face is really red. And you're sweating a lot... Maybe get something to drink and rest in the shade for a bit."
"Whothe thide are you on? Min Sheojun's?"
"No, it's just—the weather's hot."
"Twenty-thix degrees and you call that hot?"
"I'm sorry."
Pyeon Seongyeop glared fiercely at the bowing aide. So many people were watching and this idiot was running his mouth, giving them something to gossip about. Whether from agitation or something else, saliva was pooling at the corner of his mouth. Still, he was all right. His stamina was coming back in real time.
2:30 PM, Maesan Station Plaza. Pyeon Seongyeop, who had been struggling all morning, finally felt his head clearing.
See? Told you I'm still in fighting shape.
The headache had vanished as if washed away, and his speech came out smooth and fluid. He was back to normal, but somehow he felt almost giddy—as if he'd overcome the dirty scheme that bastard Min Seojun had tried to pull. He'd told his wife and the camp brass he was fine, but deep down he'd been worried. Now that risk seemed completely resolved.
His spirits lifted, Pyeon Seongyeop raised his voice.
"Respected and beloved citizens of Maesan! Good afternoon! Pyeon Seongyeop, candidate of the Together Democratic Party, offers you one final deep bow!"
"Waaah!"
"I will revolutionize the commute from our new town developments! I will massively expand the regional bus network and weave a tight web of public transit connections to dramatically cut travel times to Seoul and neighboring cities! I will upgrade our education and childcare infrastructure across the board!"
His supporters responded to his energetic speech—not with wild enthusiasm, but with a decent showing of applause. Pyeon Seongyeop! Pyeon Seongyeop! We're winning! We're winning! Amid the chants of his name, his expression grew slightly hazy.
By tomorrow evening, I'll be the mayor.
Pyeon Seongyeop had a long list of things he wanted to do once he took the mayor's office. First, he planned to increase the subsidies going to the sports council and other professional associations. To maintain his voter base? No—it was to kick back a portion of the increased subsidies to himself. He'd already had a relative on his wife's side set up a supply company for exactly that purpose. The amounts weren't large, but it was a safe and steady little earner.
And he had other dreams too. Skim a bit off the smart city development project. Massage the incinerator site selection for another cut. And when the time came to expand the Third Development Zone, go big... That one he'd have to be truly careful with—he could end up in a cell once his term was up. But he'd been planning this since his days as a city councilor, refining the details for years. He was confident he wouldn't get caught. Even if only half the plans panned out, he'd never want for money in his old age.
"Respected citizens of Maesan! Make me your mayor!!"
Pyeon Seongyeop shouted until the veins bulged in his neck. And while he was at it, another deep bow. If they'd just give him their votes, what wouldn't he do?
"Haha!!"
Laughing heartily, Pyeon Seongyeop stepped down from the campaign bus. But the moment his feet hit the ground, he felt the focus in his right eye rapidly dissolving.
"Wh... what?"
"Candidate, are you all right?"
Pyeon Seongyeop waved his hand frantically. It was as if a curtain had dropped over half his vision, plunging it into total darkness. And it wasn't just the eye—the veins in his neck writhed as if they were dancing. He'd felt dizzy in brief spells before, but nothing like this.
No. It couldn't be. Min Seojun's warning flashed through his mind. Go to a hospital. Get an MRI and an MRA. Your health comes first. At first he'd dismissed it as pure provocation. He'd actually considered finding time to get checked out, but the bastard's smugness had made him dig in instead. Now that he literally couldn't see, dread closed in from all sides.
Should he go to the hospital, even now? Winning wasn't worth trading his life for. He'd have to write off the rest of the campaign, but maybe the impact on voters wouldn't be that severe.
"Candidate, would you like to rest for a moment?"
"More than rest, I think I should see a doct—"
As if by magic, his vision returned. The pounding stopped. Clear sight once more. And at that exact moment, there he was, hovering right in front of Pyeon Seongyeop.
"Min... Sheojun."
The insolent rival who'd had the gall to raise the health issue. In that instant, any thought of going to the hospital evaporated. Just remembering the humiliation from the televised debate still made the back of his neck burn. With barely any political experience to his name—a parachuted-in nobody, filling a slot only because the People's Choice Party's intended nominee had bolted—and he had the nerve to eye the mayor's office.
Unforgivable.
Even the concerned look on his face as he approached felt like an act.
"Candidate Pyeon. Almost at the finish line, I see."
"..."
"You don't look well. Perhaps you should see a doctor now? I'm asking you sincerely."
Min Seojun bowed at a perfect ninety degrees and urged him toward the hospital yet again. The crowd that had gathered began to murmur. You son of a bitch. Is this what you're feeding them right now? Pyeon Seongyeop felt his head going cold as he clenched his fist.
Come to think of it, Min Seojun's campaign schedule had been overlapping with his own at an uncanny rate today. No matter how he looked at it, it wasn't coincidence. Was he tailing him, waiting for any excuse to spread the health-scare rumor in real time...? Truly despicable and vile.
"I'm fine, Candidate Min Sheojun."
"Please don't do this."
"I said I'm FINE!!"
Pyeon Seongyeop decided to push through with the campaign. Evening commute greetings. A stronghold rally complete with choreographed moves. A quick SNS livestream squeezed in between stops—forty-seven viewers. And then, finally, the finale.
Almost there. Almost... there. Pyeon Seongyeop wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth and forced a smile. He'd held up better than he'd feared. The only problem was that he was tired enough to want to die. Thankfully, it was truly almost over now. Once this final rally—mobilizing every campaign worker, every local council candidate, and even Maesan's National Assembly members—was done, Pyeon Seongyeop could finally rest. He'd go straight to the hospital, get checked out, and take a proper break.
"And now, your ready-and-waiting candidate for Maesan mayor! Introducing Pyeon Seongyeop of the Together Democratic Party!"
The emcee's voice rang in his ears. Pyeon Seongyeop dragged feet that felt like they belonged to someone else up onto the podium. It was a strange sensation. The ear-splitting campaign jingle, the roar of the crowd—all of it went silent. Was this what they called a flow state? No self, no sound.
Pyeon Seongyeop gripped the microphone someone handed him with both hands. He opened his mouth to shout—
My fellow citizens...
For some reason, no words came out. That was when the edges of his vision began to darken. This is bad. Pyeon Seongyeop wanted to call for help, but what came from his throat wasn't a voice—it was a froth of bloody bubbles. And in his skull, something went snap.
"Ah..."
Pyeon Seongyeop swayed for about three seconds as the world seemed to flip upside down.
THUD!
Then he lost consciousness and collapsed beneath the campaign bus.
"Candidate...? Candidate!"
"AAAAAAH!!"
"Somebody call for help! NOW!!"
Pyeon Seongyeop was rushed straight to the hospital, but by the time he arrived, he had already stopped breathing. Cause of death: respiratory center paralysis due to acute cerebral infarction. It happened just one hour before the official campaign period was set to end.