Power & Sex, and... 65
Morning sunlight dazzled his eyes, waking him from sleep. Ara, still in her early twenties with that fresh youthful glow, lay there breathing softly in slumber. She looked so lovable that he gently pressed his lips to her forehead.
"Ahji, is it morning already?"
"Yeah. You awake? Sorry."
"No, I love lying here with you in the morning."
"Want some coffee?"
"No, I just want to feel you a little longer."
He wanted to savor her warmth too, so he lightly pulled her body into his arms and lay back down.
"Assemblyman, I hope you slept well."
"Ah, Manager. Thanks to you, I slept comfortably."
"Our chairman would like to treat you and your wife to lunch. Would that be alright?"
"Sure. Of course. When?"
"How about 8 o'clock, in an hour?"
"Yes, we'll prepare accordingly."
The hotel chairman had been away on a business trip abroad, but apparently he'd returned. Since gratitude was owed, he hurried to prepare for lunch with him. To avoid being late, they left the room at 7:45. Despite telling them to go home and rest, the same four young men from yesterday were still guarding the door.
Two of them, already notified, escorted them to the dining area. Even though they'd rushed, the manager and who he assumed was the chairman had arrived first. But the chairman's face looked strangely familiar.
"Assemblyman Park, come on in."
"Yes. Pleased to meet you. This is my wife."
He returned the greeting and introduced Ara.
"You're even more beautiful in person than in the news photos and papers."
Ara bowed her head in thanks, and the chairman invited the couple to sit.
"I had no idea Assemblyman Park was staying at our hotel."
"Thanks to your manager, I've imposed on you, Chairman."
"Nonsense. Thanks to him, I got to host my niece's husband at my own place—I'm grateful."
"......"
"Ah! Eun-mi is my niece. I've heard plenty about you and your wife from her and her father."
"I see. Allow me to greet you properly then."
He quickly stood, bowing respectfully. Hearing that explained why the chairman's face had seemed familiar all along. It also washed away any lingering worries about using that room and the burden of its high cost.
Lunch with the chairman passed in a pleasant atmosphere. He expressed fury over yesterday's events but relief that the manager's help had prevented major damage. He shared stories of Yeouido politics and the political climate in Honam, occasionally treating Ara with the warmth of a favorite niece-in-law, keeping things light and smooth.
With Seoul matters resolved, there was no reason to stay in Gwangju longer. After lunch, they returned to pack, then called Do Cheol-rak and Im Bi-seo to say they were leaving.
He'd already bid the chairman farewell on the way out, mentioning their return to Seoul, so they thanked the manager and departed the hotel. They stopped by Im Hwang-seok's shop to say goodbye. Since they'd come from Seoul to Gwangju, he decided to swing by Busan before heading back, so he sent Im Bi-seo ahead to Seoul while he went with Do Cheol-rak's group to Busan.
No need to rush, so he told the impatient Do Cheol-rak to go ahead and planned a leisurely drive, stopping at rest areas. But when they pulled into Suncheon Rest Area, Do Cheol-rak's cars were already there, waiting.
"Do Sajang, I told you to go on ahead. I'm stopping at every rest area, taking it slow."
"Then we'll take it slow too. What's the hurry?"
"Aigoo, that guy's as clueless as yesterday."
"?"
"About the room rate yesterday."
"Oh, that? I told your wife to brag about staying in such a fancy room to her friends from Jin-gu."
"Damn it, man. You didn't think I'd get flak if word got out? If I pay, they call me a lunatic assemblyman blowing my salary; if it's free, it's bribery talk."
Do Cheol-rak finally looked startled, realizing the gap between his world and politics. Truth be told, if he hadn't known the manager was Do Cheol-rak's friend—or the connection with Im Hwang-seok—he never would've slept in that room. Just staying there risked obliterating his political position in one blow.
Even knowing the ties, until meeting the chairman and hearing the relation, a nagging unease had persisted.
"Ahji, it's so quiet here."
"Not many cars passing through."
Ara was right; besides their group, only one other car was parked. Even for early morning, could a rest area survive like this? It proved how little human and material exchange still happened between Jeolla and Gyeongsang. Well, thanks to Chun Doo-hwan's regime, this highway existed at all—before, it was like a ceasefire line between North and South, with barely any crossing. He cursed Chun's murderous regime, vowing someday to judge it properly in the people's name, but he respected their building of the east-west 88 Expressway.
After Jinju, traffic picked up noticeably—proof of greater exchange in people and goods. They stopped at Haman Rest Area for a break. Though rural, it dwarfed Suncheon in scale and buzzed with energy.
"We'll head straight to Busan now, so let's part here. You need the West Busan IC anyway, and I'll go via Manduk to the family home. Take Sangdu with you."
He bid Do Cheol-rak goodbye, then went to their car to thank Jongmin, urging him to recover well, before leaving the rest area.
"How do you know Jongmin so well?"
"Ahji, you got dementia?"
"Why?"
"He drove for me during the election. We went through hell."
Now he remembered. The district was sprawling with steep hills, making walking campaigns impossible. Worried about trouble, Do Cheol-rak had assigned drivers-cum-bodyguards, and Jongmin was one.
He'd have to treat him to a meal sometime.
Back in Busan, he headed to the office first, not wanting to worry his mother by going home.
"Assemblyman, you alright?"
"What?"
"No injuries?"
"Office Manager, what're you talking about?"
"With all the scary rumors flying around. Seeing you here eases my mind."
Entering the office, the on-duty staff's eyes were heavy with worry, not joy.
"What's with you all? I'm right here, fit as a fiddle."
"We heard you got shot?"
How did a rumor—not even in the news—travel from distant Gwangju to Busan? Bizarre. Best to dismiss it as nonsense and call the office manager in.
"Anything special happen?"
"What the hell happened? Sudden trip to America? The registered mail you sent? Shot?"
"Aigoo, one question at a time. The mail arrived already?"
"Don't keep me in suspense—spill it."
No point hiding from the office manager, so he explained Seoul and Gwangju events step by step. The man raged more than anyone at the party leadership's informant betrayal and the heavyweights, trembling with fury over the Hwasun shooting.
"Those dog bastards doing politics!"
It was natural from his perspective. Born in Mokpo, he'd come to Busan young to make a living selling at markets, entering politics, serving as Jumin Party member lifelong, then district office manager under Hwang Seong-tae. A democracy fighter staking his life in the '70s and '80s, he couldn't abide betrayal by his own party. It showed how much party mindsets had shifted.
"Hiring a Jeolla guy as secretary? Folks'll oppose it."
"Hyung-nim's a Gyeongsang country bumpkin too—how can you say that as a southern guy yourself?"
"Sure for me, but for you..."
Even from this Mokpo native—a true original Jeolla man—came unease about working with a Gyeongsang villager, worry it might harm him. It tightened his chest. When would this damned regionalism wall crumble? He loathed the late Park Chung-hee anew for brainwashing Gyeongsang people to cling to power, gifting Korea this regional prejudice. If alive, he'd slap him silly!
Reflecting while looking at the results. Compared to others' works, readers see no big difference, and favorites are steady, but recommendations have dropped sharply. There's a problem with my writing somewhere, but I haven't found the fix yet.
I'll try harder to write with more care.