Power & Sex, and... 57
The morning edition of Ajung Ilbo's politics section was topped by a bombshell article titled "Will Jumin Party Incumbents Continue Declaring Non-Candidacy for the Next General Election?", rocking the political world of Yeouido.
The article detailed how around twenty senior incumbents, including the highly touted S Assemblyman eyeing a run for party leader, were stepping up with declarations of non-candidacy in the upcoming general election. They framed it as a selfless sacrifice to help the party overcome its current crisis, inject fresh young blood, and transform into a beloved organization ahead of the presidential race.
Naturally, it was Seo Dong-beom's handiwork, based on the CD he'd seen yesterday and the list I'd passed him. The piece cleverly provided those featured in the CD a dignified exit from the political stage, letting them preserve the reputations they'd built over the years.
Yeouido was abuzz with agreement on the article's substance but rife with questions of why and who these twenty were. Political reporters were on high alert, sniffing out identities and the bizarre timing—right as the current assembly terms were kicking off post-election.
"Assemblyman, have you seen the article?"
"Yeah, I skimmed the headline."
Upon arriving at the office, Chief Aide Kim followed me into my room.
"Any backlash?"
"Seo the reporter's probably catching hell right now. But since it's just initials, they won't dare lash out too hard at him yet. Expect some watchful waiting for a bit. Still, we need a decision soon. Those folks out front are weighing on me."
"Wouldn't dragging it out a little longer to rally more supporters help your future moves?"
"Could be. But tent sit-ins only last a day or two—how long can their bodies hold out like that?"
For the protesters' sake alone, we had to wrap this up fast. Pure passion starts any movement, but time erodes it; moods shift, interlopers join, and the whole vibe sours. Let this drag on, and it could backfire spectacularly.
Nothing major on the morning schedule, so I decided to hit the protest site for lunch duty. I'd stolen Ara away from them, so the least I could do was fill in. Grabbing rubber gloves and an apron from the office, I headed to party HQ. Stepping out of the car, gloves and apron in hand, I made for the serving tent—volunteers were buzzing about. And there, when she should be on a train to Busan, was Ara.
"Honey!"
"Didn't you catch the 9 o'clock train? What about your ticket?"
"Canceled it. Couldn't shake the worry... But what about you, honey?"
"I'm here to cover lunch service for you. But if you stick around like this, how're you gonna drag yourself to work tomorrow?"
"Sorry, honey. Just this once?"
I got her devotion, but damn, it pissed me off. No way to show it, though—not with volunteers swarming the tent. We finished prepping and served lunch side by side to the protesters, our photo inevitably blasting out via fan cafe members and party folks on Facebook and Twitter.
"I can take the subway alone."
"No way. Nothing pressing today anyway."
I strong-armed Ara—who insisted on the subway solo—into Seoul Station, plunked her in a seat, and watched the train pull out. Otherwise, she'd camp till dinner; even Jeong-ah couldn't sway her stubborn streak. I understood, but she was a taxpayer-funded public servant first and foremost. As long as she held that librarian post, duty to her job trumped everything.
Who to hit first? No intel on whether they were coordinating or just individually compromised—no way to find out, either. Headfirst or tail-up? Tough call.
Before Yeouido, I grabbed a USB in Yeongdeungpo and ducked into a PC bang. Tucked in a corner booth, I copied files from the loaded USB to blanks—one per face in the videos. Job done, I headed back to the office and rang Seo Assemblyman's room for a visit. Headfirst it was.
"Park Assemblyman, come on in."
"Hope I'm not intruding."
"Please—with rising star Park Assemblyman gracing me? Wouldn't miss it."
Casual banter out of the way, we settled on the sofa.
"So, what's the visit for? Word is you're pushing Kim Seong-gap for supreme committee."
Seo Assemblyman dove straight into party convention talk, oblivious to the morning article.
"Sir, see the news this morning?"
"Oh, that Ajung Ilbo rag? Not me. Why would a guy pondering a leadership run declare non-candidacy? No names dropped, so I'd look foolish piping up. I'm sitting tight, but that Seo whatever-his-name is—planning to give him a proper thrashing soon."
"......"
I said nothing, just set a USB on the table.
"Park Assemblyman, what's this?"
"Take a look."
With a puzzled frown, he plugged it into his laptop and fired up the file. His face drained to ashen as it played.
"P-Park Assemblyman, what the hell..."
The ten-minute clip ended; he staggered up, clutching the desk on his wobble back to the sofa, pallid as a ghost.
"Like Seo the reporter said—make your call."
"......"
"You've got a week. That USB? Pass it to the others, please. Elected officials, declare non-candidacy for the next election like the article says. Proportional reps, submit resignations immediately. We'll close it out with a joint presser next Wednesday—all twenty-three of you."
Nothing left to say. He looked half out of his mind anyway, so I gave a slight bow and left. Time for Seo and me to go dark while they moved. They'd counteroffer, sure—and if it flopped, desperate power-grabbers like them might try anything to cling to their perks.
Off to Ajung Ilbo. Deadlines looming, so Seo's odds of being there were high. I called from the lobby; he bolted down.
"Assemblyman, all the way to our office?"
"Just handed all the USBs to Seo Assemblyman—gave 'em an ultimatum: decide by next Wednesday."
"Yeah? What'd he say?"
"No denying it. But you might wanna lay low too, Seo."
"I'm good. I only know the list, nothing else. Originals safe?"
"Yeah, original plus five copies, all stashed separately."
Fair—he knew squat beyond the names, no sweat. Worst case, if things twisted weird, one of those five holders might step up. That's why I was vanishing.
Quick calls to Chief Aide Kim, the office manager, Ara, my brother, Eun-mi, Jeong-ah, and Suji: "Heading to the States for a week—urgent business. Hold non-emergency calls; text if needed." Then hung up.
Yanked batteries from both my phones, tossed 'em in the dash. Parked the car in a Mapo public lot, cabbed to Dong-hyun's joint.
"Bro, what brings you here?"
"Gimme a burner phone."
"Yours busted?"
"Nah, can't use mine for a bit. But going phoneless sucks."
"Ah! Got prepped spares. If shit hits, ditch yours and cycle these."
Pocketed it, cabbed to Seoul Station, snagged a Busan ticket.
Tracking me now? Good luck. Busan first—borrow a ride from Cheol-rak, play tourist for the week. Even if they fold, sharp reporters would hound me; worst case, physical hits to save their turf. Smartest move: exit stage left.
Cheol-rak's office thundered as always—shouts like brawls, curses flying, wrestler-sized guys hauling booze crates.
"Bro, what's up?"
"Thanks to you, Cheol-rak."
"Huh?"
"Lend me a car? Taking a week off."
"You dropped the bomb?"
"Yeah. Handed copies to Seo Assemblyman before Busan—ultimatum till Wednesday."
He intercommed two underlings.
"Bro, take these guys."
"Why them?"
"Just in case. They know Gwangju-Jeonnam lineages cold—no awkward spots."
My nationwide jaunt? Now Jeonnam-bound. No breaking his iron will—I'd tried. Ditching his crew solo? Impossible. Fine, his plan it was.