A Masterclass in Politics
Crash!
Returning to his campaign office after the debate, Hong Gi-beom kicked a trash can across the room.
"What kind of monster is that guy?!"
He felt utterly miserable.
It hadn't been a debate; it was a one-man show starring Lee Yun-hyeok. The other candidates had been reduced to mere background extras.
From Gi-beom's perspective, he had tried to attack Yun-hyeok with sharp questions, but he had achieved absolutely nothing.
For instance, their exchanges had gone something like this:
"Candidate Lee Yun-hyeok, you are running as an independent. How do you expect to secure a budget for the city?"
"Budgets are not awarded based on party affiliation, but on the rationality and feasibility of the policies proposed by the city."
"On paper, that is true. But the reality is that without political backing, it is difficult to give your voice any weight. The citizens are bound to worry about your lack of party affiliation."
"Once elected, I won't be an independent. I will belong to Mir City Hall. Besides, even when I was a true independent with zero official titles, I negotiated with the Hanmin Party's central leadership to secure a budget of 15.3 billion won. I took the Small Business Association, which was planning to protest in front of City Hall, straight to Yeouido instead—so the Hanmin Party could feel the gravity of the situation firsthand. If I become the Mayor of Mir City, my voice will be backed not just by a 3,400-member association, but by all 490,000 citizens of Mir. My voice will have more than enough weight. Or do you believe Mir City itself is somehow lacking?"
"Let's... move on to the next question."
It was infuriating!
Several similar clashes had followed.
"You have absolutely no administrative experience. Are you sure you can handle this?"
"I am the one who designed and executed Mir City's public transit overhaul."
"Some point out your lack of legal expertise."
"I am the one who drafted the municipal ordinance for rescuing runaway youth."
"Civic activism is different from politics. You have no political experience."
"I served as the chief policy strategist for Assemblyman Park Dae-man's campaign."
There was simply no counterargument to a smug "I've already done it." To make matters worse, every single one of his experiences was a major, recent event that the citizens of Mir City remembered vividly.
And what about the policy questions?
By nature, town hall debates were supposed to be grueling hearings where candidates were battered by the public's sharp questions. But not for Lee Yun-hyeok. He caught every pitch perfectly and hit them out of the park, using the attacks to make himself shine even brighter.
The bastard had a flawless answer prepared for every single question. The absolute highlight of the night had been this exchange:
"Candidate Lee Yun-hyeok, I am a business owner in my sixties. I run a textile factory in Durim-myeon, and I'm currently considering closing it down. You mentioned that you would personally headhunt and recruit brilliant entrepreneurs. Who exactly are you referring to?"
"Yes, I will answer that. For example, someone like the author of a paper recently published in the MIT Technology Review. It details a technology that uses supercritical fluids for cleaning and selective microparticle adsorption to coat resin surfaces with a thin protective layer, suppressing the release of microplastics. This process reduces microplastic emissions by 99.97% compared to conventional methods. It might sound hard to believe, but the developer of this groundbreaking technology, which caught the attention of MIT, is right here in South Korea. That is the reality of our country. There are so many geniuses who could dominate the global stage, but they simply haven't had the chance to shine. The developer of the technology I just mentioned is currently in the graduate chemistry program at Hankuk University. Once I become mayor, I plan to go and meet them personally."
"How on earth do you know about things like that?"
"Every Tuesday and Friday, I read the MIT Technology Review, the Harvard Business Review, and Science Advances. Science, technology, and high-tech industries are the muscles of a nation. A politician must be able to train and manage them like a personal trainer. The same applies to municipal administration."
Is this guy out of his mind? Gi-beom thought.
Who on earth went to such lengths for a local mayoral election? Even presidential campaign teams couldn't pull off this level of detail.
At the venue, the excited citizens directed almost all of their questions to Yun-hyeok. If it had been an official broadcast debate hosted by the National Election Commission, the moderator would have distributed the questions evenly to maintain a semblance of fairness. But this was a privately organized town hall, so there were no such constraints.
In effect, Yun-hyeok held ninety percent of the speaking time, turning the debate into his personal lecture. The other candidates were left wondering if they were actually running for office or just sitting in the audience.
By the end, Yun-hyeok's voice was completely hoarse, which spoke volumes about how much he had dominated the floor.
"C-Candidate Hong." His campaign aides approached him, holding a document.
"The latest approval rating analysis is out..."
Tense, Gi-beom snatched the paper and scanned the numbers.
He was losing.
What made it truly mind-boggling was that these figures were based on data collected before the debate.
Yun-hyeok had swept up the Hanmin Party's traditional base while firmly capturing the moderate swing voters. The Jayu Party's regional committee had confidently predicted that as time went on, the rookie's lack of depth would be exposed, allowing Gi-beom to pull ahead. But they couldn't have been more wrong. The one whose lack of depth was being exposed was Gi-beom.
At this rate, the gap would only widen.
"No. This can't happen."
Gi-beom could feel his entire political career unraveling.
He couldn't afford to be utterly crushed by an independent—especially not when his opponent wasn't even a prominent national figure, but a thirty-one-year-old rookie.
"I have to find something."
In a state of sheer desperation, Gi-beom began racking his brain to find a weakness in Lee Yun-hyeok's armor.
Then, suddenly, a crucial realization struck him.
He remembered the most common pitfall that independent political rookies stumbled into.
It was none other than a violation of the Political Funds Act.
While candidates like Hong Gi-beom had their campaign offices set up by their parties, Yun-hyeok had to handle everything himself as an independent.
He had rented out the first floor of a commercial building at a busy intersection near Yeok-dong to use as his campaign headquarters.
The neighborhood was densely populated by middle-class families and sat directly along the primary commuting route for local residents. The heavy foot traffic made it a highly strategic location.
It was a short-term lease: a deposit of ten million won, a monthly rent of 1.5 million won, and maintenance fees of 200,000 won.
Yun-hyeok had paid every cent from his official political fund account and had transparently uploaded the lease agreement, along with the exact pricing, to his YouTube channel.
With his father's help, Yun-hyeok had been uploading every single deposit and withdrawal slip from his political fund account, complete with receipts, for the public to see.
"We're rooting for you, Yun-hyeok!"
Passersby frequently dropped into his office to say hello, share their struggles, or offer words of encouragement.
The stream of visitors had grown even larger after the debate.
"Whew. It's a non-stop whirlwind in here." Yun-hyeok's father sighed, looking exhausted despite only handling the accounting.
"How do you manage to handle all of this on your own?"
"I'm not doing it completely alone."
Yun-hyeok's campaign actually had two paid staff members.
Since Yun-hyeok and his father, who served as the chief financial officer, often had to travel around the city, these two employees stayed behind to keep the office running, greet visitors, and answer phone calls.
Even so, it was an incredibly small team for a campaign office. Usually, even for local elections, a candidate would hire at least ten staff members.
"Since I don't have a party backing me, I have to pinch every penny," Yun-hyeok said.
He was tightening his belt like a true miser. He didn't even hire a driver, choosing to drive himself to every event. He developed his own policies, drafted his own campaign booklets, and wrote his own speeches. His debate preparation was no exception.
Still, one might think he could at least afford to hire an accounting assistant.
"Keep saving, Yun-hyeok. Our supporters pooled their precious, hard-earned money to fund this campaign," his father agreed, insisting on doing the work himself.
"Besides, political funds must be managed with absolute precision. If we bring in a second person, I'll just end up worrying about mistakes."
He was right.
In truth, Yun-hyeok also felt much more at ease leaving the finances in the hands of his father, who possessed the necessary professional expertise.
The Political Funds Act was always a prime target for rivals looking to launch smear campaigns.
They chatted for a bit longer until seven in the evening.
"We'll head out first!"
The two paid employees clocked out, and Yun-hyeok switched off the air conditioner. It was summer, but the evenings were still reasonably cool.
"If you become mayor, the city civil servants are going to have a rough time," his father teased.
"Oh, come on. I'll at least let them run the AC in the main building."
"Well, your chief of staff is definitely going to suffer."
"Now that might actually be true."
While his father wrapped up the day's accounting, Yun-hyeok began fine-tuning his policy proposals.
It was at that moment that a visitor arrived.
Ding-dong!
The chime at the entrance rang.
Since the door was propped open, the chime had only sounded because the visitor had reached out and tapped it with their finger.
It was an unexpected guest.
"Assemblywoman Song I-seol?"
She was the proportional representative from the Hanmin Party who had accompanied Park Dae-man and Han Myeong-cheol during their previous visit.
"You were so focused that you didn't even notice me standing here," she said.
She pulled her hand away from the chime and offered a polite greeting. "Hello."
"What brings you here?"
"I have a little gift for your campaign."
Watching her stroll inside with her hands clasped behind her back, Yun-hyeok instantly read her intentions.
Ah, she's trying to align herself with me.
When she had stood beside the party heavyweights before, she had seemed like a mere decorative ornament. But clearly, she possessed the political instincts that had earned her a proportional seat in the first place.
She didn't believe for a second that Yun-hyeok, even as an independent, would stop at being the Mayor of Mir City. She anticipated that he would use his administrative experience as a springboard to climb much higher.
She had come to establish a connection early on. After all, they might find themselves working together in Yeouido one day.
For instance, if Yun-hyeok successfully served as mayor and later ran as a Hanmin Party candidate to snatch a district seat from the Jayu Party, he—alongside Assemblyman Park Dae-man—might hold the power to influence her future nominations.
"You're quite bold. I'm not even a member of the Hanmin Party," Yun-hyeok noted.
"Aren't you worried about getting blacklisted within your own party for visiting an outsider's campaign office and offering gifts?"
"If that happens, I'll just play dumb. I'll say I was young, inexperienced, and didn't know any better," Song I-seol replied smoothly.
She stepped closer to Yun-hyeok's desk, putting on a theatrical tone as if apologizing to an imaginary Park Dae-man.
"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry, Assemblyman Park! After seeing our meeting back then, I thought the party leadership had decided to back him! I truly believed helping Candidate Lee Yun-hyeok would make you happy!"
Her playful, sly performance was amusing enough to make Yun-hyeok chuckle.
"I can't treat you to a meal, as you well know."
Instead, Yun-hyeok boiled some water and brewed her a warm cup of tea.
"This is lovely. Assemblyman Park only ever serves instant mix coffee, which is always tough to stomach."
"It's terrible for your blood sugar."
"I really worry about him. A man of his stature drinking so many cups of instant coffee a day... His blood sugar must be dangerously high."
"Given his fiery personality, I'm sure he'll live a long, healthy life. You don't need to worry too much."
After a brief moment of small talk, Yun-hyeok got straight to the point. "So, shall we settle the bill for the tea?"
"And here I was hoping we could have a more leisurely chat."
Yun-hyeok pointed to the campaign booklet he had been writing. "I'm in the middle of work."
"I suppose I have no choice, then." Song I-seol shared a piece of intelligence that the Hanmin Party had recently caught wind of.
"The Jayu Party is planning to attack you for violating the Political Funds Act."
"What?!" his father gasped, nearly jumping out of his seat.
"That's absurd! I have been monitoring every single transaction with absolute, laser-focused attention!"
"Yes, I'm sure you haven't done anything wrong, sir."
"Ah." Yun-hyeok let out a soft chuckle. "I see what they're trying to do."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"..." Song I-seol tilted her head in confusion. She hadn't even explained the details yet. How could he grasp the situation just from the mention of the Political Funds Act?
"They're going after my YouTube editor, aren't they?" He had hit the nail right on the head.
"That editor has poured an immense amount of care and effort into producing your videos."
Over the past four months, the editor had produced nearly twenty high-quality videos, helping the Politician Lee Yun-hyeok channel amass over 300,000 subscribers.
For a professional of that caliber to perform all that labor entirely for free? To Hong Gi-beom's camp, it was simply impossible to believe.
"To be honest, even I find it hard to believe," Song I-seol admitted. "They suspect that there must have been under-the-table transactions using private accounts."
"..."
"Did you actually pay them?"
"No."
"It's truly volunteer work?"
"Yes."
"How is that even possible? Who on earth are they?"
"I don't know either."
Song I-seol smacked her forehead. "This is a headache. If you have that little information, it's going to be incredibly difficult to convince the public. No matter how innocent you are, once you're trapped in their framing, it's over. If you can't prove it was volunteer work..."
"I can prove it."
"You can?" Song I-seol's eyes narrowed. While paying someone left a paper trail, how could one prove a negative? It wasn't as if they had signed a formal contract for volunteer services.
"How?"
Yun-hyeok opened his email client. He pulled up the exchange he had shared with the anonymous editor—whom he strongly suspected to be Ji Hye-min.
His offer to pay her once his political fund account was set up; her refusal, stating that she felt uncomfortable receiving money as a student; their agreement to let her use the work for her portfolio; his suggestion that she could step down if the work surrounding Kim Si-jun became too difficult; and her reply, revealing that she had actually gone to meet Si-jun in person.
The exchange, which read almost like middle school pen pals writing back and forth, clearly demonstrated the editor's pure volunteer spirit.
Candidate Hong Gi-beom... Yun-hyeok felt a sudden pang of pity for his rival. Please, don't touch that. It's a self-destruct button.