Power
Taking my father down required no special time or effort on my part.
Objectively speaking, my father was just another civil servant at Maesan City Hall. And among the officials reporting to me was the Chief Audit Officer.
"Mayor-elect? This is Kang Hyeongmin, Chief Audit Officer. Since this is my first briefing, I'll cover the basic status of our audit office, the major audit cases currently in progress... and the key matters centered on how we plan to handle them going forward."
By rights, the audit position should have been filled through open recruitment to ensure independence and expertise. But municipalities like Maesan, with populations under 300,000, were exempt. The current auditor was simply a regular career civil servant.
"The audit office currently consists of four teams including myself, with an authorized strength of nineteen and eighteen on staff. Four in Audit Planning, five in Integrity Investigation, four in General Audit, and four in Contract Review. All positions are rotational assignments drawn primarily from the administrative track."
A complaint had come in last month, and they were looking into this and that; the witnesses kept putting off document submissions, so progress was slow; once the Mayor-elect took office and set the direction, they intended to proceed with careful coordination...
In the end, it meant he would do whatever I told him to. That was the limitation of audit departments in South Korea. Legally, they could exercise discretion over audit targets, timing, and methods, and demand disciplinary action based on findings—but realistically, that was never going to happen. Everything depended on who held personnel authority over the audit office staff.
And that personnel authority belonged to me. Not yet—only in the future—but that actually gave me an advantage. Right now, I could exercise authority without bearing any responsibility.
"Chief Auditor. What is the core function of your office?"
"Integrity investigations, routine audits, contract reviews—overseeing the full range of municipal operations."
"Right. And this is just my opinion, but I believe no area should be off-limits to an audit."
"That's... right, isn't it?"
No area should be off-limits to an audit. Of course, my father was the person I had no intention of treating as sacred ground. But I needed cover, both internally and externally. It had to look like I was exposing my own family's corruption through gritted teeth, like I was willing to be called an unfilial son to restore discipline to the public service.
"Chief Auditor, let me be clear. This is merely a suggestion. I haven't even taken office as mayor yet—how could I issue official directives?"
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind."
"Honestly, my heart is heavy too."
I didn't forget to act grave and troubled whenever the moment called for it. After all, I was probably the only mayor-elect in the country ordering an audit of his own family before even taking office.
"The Director of Finance and Economy tells me our city's available funds are already in the red."
"Ah... yes. Unfortunately, that's correct."
"Even now, taxpayers' money is leaking out somewhere. If an organization won't draw its blade at a time like this, citing political burden as an excuse, then what reason does the audit office have to exist?"
"Well said."
"If there's corruption, it must be exposed. No exceptions, regardless of who's involved."
The auditor's face grew graver as he nodded along. What I handed him was material I'd obtained through the transition committee—the operational records of the Citizen Cooperation Division, where my father served as section chief.
"I'd like a comprehensive audit of five years' worth of subsidy disbursements from a specific department at Maesan City Hall."
"Which specific department, if I may ask?"
"The one that's kneaded enormous budgets under the banner of 'governance' with private organizations in the district, and has sat in the audit office's blind spot longer than any other."
"The Citizen Cooperation Division... I see."
"Yes. That one."
The auditor's pupils began darting left and right. A son ordering an investigation into his own father—how could they not? I deliberately sighed, then drew a firm line through a section of the documents.
"Start with the civic organization project funds."
"Um, Mayor-elect? With all due respect—"
"There's nothing to apologize for. I'm simply suggesting you look into whether there happens to be any organization that settled subsidies worth millions of won with nothing but a simple receipt, or that received a passing eligibility verdict year after year despite missing supporting documentation."
"......"
"Chief Auditor?"
"Yes, Mayor-elect! I'm listening carefully."
Subsidies paid out to private entities. Even forced, this was a field where something was bound to turn up. It was impossible for tax money funneled into civic organizations or government-affiliated groups to be spent cleanly. Moreover, groups living off municipal subsidies had their livelihoods riding on that money nine times out of ten. With a little know-how, anyone could siphon off funds easily enough to buy fried chicken and upgrade their phone—why wouldn't they be tempted?
"I know it's a sensitive area. Touch it wrong and people will rise up screaming about the suppression of civil society movements."
"Yes. It's just that..."
"Still, proceed anyway. I'll take responsibility."
Everyone knew the reality but left it alone, because digging into it offered politicians precious little upside. But going after my father was different. As long as the packaging was right, pure cost-benefit analysis said it worked in my favor.
"Um... Mayor-elect. This really is an extremely sensitive matter."
Even with my coaxing, the career civil servant clearly felt the weight of it. Fortunately, I had a means of lightening that burden too.
"Chief Auditor. If it's truly that burdensome, you're free to decline."
"Mayor-elect?"
"I'll be mayor soon enough. When that time comes, there's nothing stopping me from issuing a formal directive."
"......"
"And when I do, I intend to give it to someone other than you."
If you really hate the idea, don't do it. I'll instruct your successor instead. For moving a civil servant who hated drawing a blade against colleagues, this was the best lever available. The auditor's answer came back immediately.
"I'll get started right away, Mayor-elect."
"May I ask what exactly you plan to do?"
"I'll focus on whether subsidies and grants disbursed to specific civic organizations in the district show missing simple receipts, split contracts awarded without competitive bidding, and whether the supervising section chief violated the Conflict of Interest Prevention Act. I'll proceed as swiftly as possible."
"Good."
The auditor finished his briefing and left, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The moment he was gone, I wrote up a plausible post and published it on social media.
It was an oblique declaration that I would take my father down, choking back tears.
Fourth floor, Maesan City Hall. Citizen Cooperation Division, Department of Autonomous Administration.
"Um, Section Chief Min Taegi? The Mayor-elect just posted something."
"Just do your work."
"Ah... haha, yes."
Min Taegi, section chief of the Citizen Cooperation Division, sat at his desk swallowing his anger. It was because of the humiliation he'd suffered yesterday in front of his own son, Min Seojun.
He hadn't intended to clash with his son at the briefing from the start. He'd even been willing to swallow his pride for a moment—if Seojun had shown the slightest bit of respect, he'd planned to arrange a meal sooner or later to smooth things over.
That brat Seojun could have asked for my understanding first.
If Seojun had reached out beforehand—even just to say, "It's a professional setting, so let's keep things formal"—wouldn't that have sat easier? Or at the very least, saved him a shred of face in public.
Did winning one election make him blind to everything right in front of him?
Min Taegi was not a man to be dismissed like this. At least, that's what he believed. He had human capital accumulated over decades.
Among the friends he'd worked with in the Seoul District Student Association during college were politicians now going places. He wasn't in direct contact with them these days, but they were hardly strangers. And the civil society figures within Maesan went without saying—
"Section Chief Min Taegi. Please stand up from your desk."
"Hm?"
Min Taegi rose reflexively, then froze with a blank expression. The one giving the order was the Maesan City Hall auditor. Same civil service rank, but eight years his junior. They'd even worked in the same division before. They were still on fairly friendly terms.
"I'm from the audit office. Under the Act on the Establishment and Operation of Local Government Audit Bodies, I will be securing five years' worth of execution documents and contract ledgers for all projects under the Citizen Cooperation Division's jurisdiction, effective immediately."
But right now he stood before Min Taegi with a rigid expression.
"If you obstruct this investigation, I can escalate it as a dismissal case."
"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?!"
An audit notification was thrust into the arms of a dumbstruck Min Taegi, while staff officers carried in blue boxes. One employee was already unplugging the ethernet cable from Min Taegi's desktop.
"You should at least explain why—"
"Cooperate. From this moment, any attempt to delete files or modify data on any computer within the Citizen Cooperation Division will be grounds for criminal referral."
It was an extraordinary measure. These were faces he saw every day—having them suddenly tear into him in earnest was surreal, wasn't it? The paperwork did cite grounds. Something about evidence of collusive contracting discovered in subsidy settlement reports...
But why dig into that out of nowhere? It meant someone had given the order. It couldn't have been the sitting mayor, whose term was ending soon.
Could it be... Seojun?
The only person with more pull than a mayor days from vacating the office was the Mayor-elect. Min Taegi couldn't process it; his eyes just kept blinking. The words he'd snapped at Seojun in the heat of the moment after the briefing did nag at him, and he'd even considered that the incident might get him shuffled off to some dead-end post... but he never imagined the boy would launch an audit this fast.
"Sweep it all in!"
The audit office staff really did sweep everything in sight. Multiple boxes filled to the brim. His was the division furthest from a paperless office.
Min Taegi belatedly recalled what his subordinate had said: The Mayor-elect just posted something. He raised a trembling hand and picked up his phone.
Behind the sudden audit stood Seojun.
This bastard.
Min Taegi had no intention of being trampled helplessly by his own son. This method was something he absolutely could not accept.