Power & Sex, and... 59
“Are you serious about that?”
When I asked Im Hwang-seok if I could hire his son, that young man, as my secretary, he lit up with joy, and a hint of thick southern dialect slipped out unbidden. It must have made him that happy.
“But the pay for a grade-7 congressional secretary isn't all that high. And unlike at a company or government office, there's no automatic promotion when the time comes. The spot only opened up because one of our grade-7 secretaries quit.”
“If you just give me the chance, I'll work my ass off!”
As I explained to Im Hwang-seok that a congressman's secretary job wasn't as cushy as he might think, the kid—too eager to sit still—jumped to his feet, bowed deeply, and declared he'd take the job.
“The boy's carrying on like that, so if you need him, Assemblyman, take him along. But what're you gonna do with a punk who doesn't even know what politics is?”
“I didn't major in politics either.”
We'd gone out for a meal, gotten treated like kings, and now I'd even scored a decent young guy for the team. I handed my business card to the young man, who introduced himself as Im Bae-gwon, and told him to gather the hiring paperwork and head up to Seoul to meet Kim Sil-jang.
As we finished our late dinner and stepped out of the restaurant, Im Hwang-seok made a quick call somewhere, then asked us to hang tight. He went back inside, changed clothes, had his son drive his car, and told the guy who'd driven my car to follow in his.
Im Hwang-seok's car headed out of downtown, toward the outskirts. After about ten minutes on a quiet country road, a cozy little hotel came into view, nestled against the mountains. We followed him into the lobby, where a man who looked like the manager greeted us warmly.
“Welcome, Assemblyman.”
“Hello. I'm Park Maru.”
The manager led us up to the room—a so-called royal suite that was way beyond what a first-term assemblyman like me deserved.
“This room's too much for me. Please switch us to something else.”
“Assemblyman, this suite stays empty unless we have a very special guest. I heard from Hwang-seok hyung and decided to offer it to you. Word is you're like a big brother to Cheol-rak these days. If that's the case, let me treat you like one too.”
I politely declined several times, but their insistence bordered on begging, and they wouldn't budge. So I asked the two guys—Do Cheol-rak's subordinates—to fetch our bags. Somehow, a bellboy had already gotten the car keys and was waiting at the door with our luggage.
“Assemblyman, we'll head out now.”
“This is too much for me.”
“If there's anything you need, just call anytime. Here's my number.”
I'd been so flustered I hadn't even given them my business cards—just verbal greetings. Realizing this, I hurriedly pulled out my cards, handed one to each, and apologized for the oversight.
“Why aren't you two leaving?”
As the manager turned to exit after our goodbyes, he called back to Cheol-rak's two subordinates.
“Can't you let these guys crash here too?”
“No way, that's not happening. How could roughnecks like us dare stay with the Assemblyman?”
“No, really—the room's so huge, it'd be a waste otherwise.”
“For you to rest easy, Assemblyman, you don't want guys like us next door. Get some good sleep.”
In the end, the manager took the two with him, leaving me alone in that massive space—complete with a reception room and conference area, not just the bedroom. The hospitality felt burdensome and awkward, but with no other options, I had no choice but to accept it.
Riiing~
I'd just stepped out of the shower when the bedside phone rang.
“Yes~?”
“Assemblyman, this is the front desk. Could you open your door for a moment?”
“Sure, got it.”
I threw on some clothes in a hurry and opened the door. There stood a pretty, curvaceous young woman, bowing with a smile.
“Hello. The manager sent me.”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
Ignoring my question, she strode right into the room.
“Miss, what's this about?”
“Pfft, no need to play coy. I'm not some streetwalker—I'm a clean girl.”
She was bold, alright. I had a pretty good idea what was going on, but I needed to call the manager and send her away. I wasn't some desperate guy starving for female company, and with no real sense of who this manager was yet, bedding a total stranger didn't sit right.
“Assemblyman, does the girl please you?”
“Manager, I don't go in for this sort of thing.”
“It's fine, Assemblyman. She's not some bar girl—she's a college student, totally clean. No worries at all.”
“I appreciate the gesture.”
“If her style's not to your liking, I can find someone else.”
He practically begged until I finally convinced him and hung up.
“Miss, sorry about this. I got the manager's okay, so you can head back now.”
Her face crumpled like she might cry. Then she stared daggers at me and muttered under her breath, “You bastard!” before storming out, the door slamming like a cold gust.
I stood there dumbfounded, replaying her “you bastard” in my head. What kind of situation makes a girl curse like that just for being asked to leave? Puzzled, I quickly called the front desk and asked them to track her down and connect us.
“What now? You chased me out quick enough.”
She picked up, voice dripping with resentment. I could sort of understand her feelings, so I softened my tone.
“Sorry, but how about a quick coffee?”
“Sure. I'll come right up.”
Her voice brightened instantly, like she was already sprinting back.
“No, I'll come down. Wait for me in the coffee shop?”
The coffee shop was quiet, late as it was. Aside from the staff, she was the only customer—the one who'd just cussed me out. No need to look around; I spotted her and sat right down.
The waitress took our orders and left. I sipped the water she'd brought and turned to her.
“You're a college student—mind if I ask why you're doing this?”
“I need the money. And it's my first time.”
“What happened that you need it so suddenly? How much were you promised?”
“……”
She didn't answer, just hung her head.
“Sorry if that was too personal.”
“No. It's for my dad's surgery. But I'm still a student, and if he doesn't get it soon, he'll… he'll die.”
“What's wrong with him?”
“He needs a liver transplant.”
“Do you have a donor?”
“I'll give him part of mine.”
“From a student? You know it'll leave a huge scar?”
“Yeah. But saving Dad comes first.”
I started to understand why this girl had no choice. To save her father—her whole world—she was willing to sell her body to a stranger and bear a massive scar for life.
“No siblings?”
“Mom died when I was little. It's just me and Dad.”
“Do you know how much a liver transplant costs?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“You thought one night like this would cover it?”
“What else can I do? No other way.”
For a girl just hitting her twenties, selling her body to save her dad might've been the only idea she had. Losing the father she'd always leaned on terrified her, and that desperation ruled her mind—she'd use any means to keep him alive.
Truth be told, I wasn't sure I could even help. Living-donor liver transplants cost a fortune even with a donor, and post-op, they'd need at least a month in a non-covered sterile room, plus lifelong checkups and immunosuppressants. It wasn't something to decide on surgery costs alone.
The new year of 2016, the Year of the Fire Monkey, has dawned.
I offer my sincere thanks to everyone who reads my work.
I pray that throughout 2016, you all stay healthy, and that health and bright smiles always fill your homes.