Power & Sex, and... 91
While chatting with the deputy township head, a group of officials approached us.
"Township head, these are Jumin Party assemblymen."
At the deputy head's words, the township head stepped forward with a greeting.
"Welcome. I'm Kim Chi-young, head of Saengcho Township."
"Yes, thank you for your hard work. I'm Jumin Party Assemblyman Park Maru, and these are our party's assemblymen."
"What brings you to our humble township?"
"Ah, we're here to meet Mr. Paeng Gisu."
The township head and office staff exchanged baffled looks. To them, he was just a rural villager, so the idea of fifteen assemblymen showing up for him was naturally bewildering. In any case, at the township head's urging and Paeng's nod, we followed him to the office. As we headed there, the staff rushed inside in a flurry.
True to a rural township office, the head's workspace wasn't large. Sofas had been hastily dragged in—likely by the early arrivals—and one female staffer was wiping them down with a rag. I felt bad for causing such a commotion.
At the head's invitation, we sat down. Soon, the women brought tea, and we sipped it while making small talk. Delegate Paeng Gisu was beaming nonstop, his grin refusing to fade. I figured this day would be his bragging rights for a good while.
There was no reason to clash with these small-town civil servants, so the conversation flowed warmly. But I never expected Delegate Paeng, caught up in the excitement, to suddenly stand and hold court. In the end, I had to remind him that our appointment time had come.
"Yeah, everyone's here? Hold on a bit longer. We're at the township office, chatting with the assemblymen and the head."
It was absurd. With what audacity was he making the waiting delegates hang on— even calling them—before diving back into his stories? But we had no choice but to follow his lead. After what felt like an eternity of relevant and irrelevant tales, he finally wrapped up, rising from his seat. We were already twenty minutes past schedule.
As our group followed Delegate Paeng into the restaurant, the Sancheong County delegates were already midway through lunch. It felt awkward to talk business over their meals, so we exchanged brief greetings, took our seats, and picked up our utensils. Even then, Paeng acted like old pals with the supreme committee candidates, regaling the delegates with an exaggerated version of our township office visit.
After lunch, the Sancheong promotion wrapped up in what could only be described as a single sentence.
"You all know, right? Just vote for whoever I tell you at the convention. You get it, committee chair?"
"Yes, sir. Loud and clear."
With that, the Sancheong delegates' votes were locked in. The local committee chair was like a nephew to Paeng, and most delegates were tied by family or school connections, so clinging to him alone seemed enough to seal it. If only he weren't such a foolhardy chatterbox—touring western Gyeongnam with him had been endless stress, my toughest memory.
In any case, Delegate Paeng had been more proactive than even Advisor Jeong in Busan, actively meeting regional committee delegates. Thanks to him, my pre-trip worries proved unfounded. If western Gyeongnam delivered votes like this, the election burden would lighten considerably. It wasn't just my thought; the other assemblymen's faces showed it too.
"I should head to Busan later and thank Advisor Jeong properly."
Assemblyman Han Seong-su remarked as we finished the western Gyeongnam schedule. Fair enough—since Paeng, who enabled stable votes here beyond Busan, had been introduced by Jeong, it was only natural.
We spent two days hitting Sancheong, Tongyeong, Jinju, Sacheon, then sweeping Macheongjin and heading to Gimhae. With no decent lodging there, we aimed for the airport hotel in Gangseo for the night.
"Where are you, Assemblyman Park?"
"Yes, Chairman. We're in Gimhae now."
"Could you come up to Seoul tomorrow?"
"What's the matter?"
"I have something urgent to discuss with you."
I was unpacking and about to shower when Lee Hoejang called. With a fellow assemblyman nearby, I couldn't pry details, but tomorrow's stops—Miryang, Gimhae, Yangsan, Ulsan—had fewer delegates and flexible routes. So I agreed to heed the call.
I first met Supreme Council Member Jeong, apologized for needing the next day off due to urgent business, then visited each assemblyman's room for understanding. They looked troubled but consented; I asked the Youth Committee Chair to look after them and hopped in a taxi home.
Ara and my mother-in-law greeted me with surprise at the bell, but I explained I was back briefly for Lee Hoejang's summons and heading to Seoul. I lay down, needing to catch the dawn train.
Arriving at Seoul Station, then Guro for Daesan Group HQ, it was just past 8 a.m. I called from the lobby; he told me to come up.
"How have you been?"
"You called me when I'm busy, didn't you?"
"Honestly, it's not even my election. What's this about?"
"Take a look at this."
Lee Hoejang placed a tracing-paper-wrapped panel on the table. Peeling off the tape revealed a sleek photo of a mobile bath vehicle, specs and details beside it.
"Looks sharp."
"Why not leave your current work to them and focus on this?"
"Pardon?"
"Our PR team's analysis compared your nationwide tour now versus donating these bath vehicles to volunteer groups everywhere. This one's far better for image-building."
"..."
"Your fan cafe's donations could buy two already. We donate a dozen or so in Daesan's name, making it a joint effort with your cafe. Hand them to active local volunteer groups, and it'll boost Daesan's image—plus yours, the cafe's real star, naturally on everyone's lips."
I pondered. The mobile baths were already media darlings, drawing netizen buzz and voluntary participation—momentum was lit.
And with headlines screaming I was riding with the supreme candidates, delegates picking them knew we were a team. My popularity boost would lift theirs too.
"But donating a dozen—that's no small burden for you, Father."
"We donate to the needy yearly anyway. This promotes the group too—no loss. Might even ride your fame for our ad."
"Sounds good, then. I'll discuss with the candidates and get back."
I'd already decided inwardly. Outsiders might criticize, but even if the candidates lost, the hit was minor—no real damage. Kim Jeong-gap's leadership win was near-certain anyway. A late endorsement from the no-shows would suffice.
Since I was in Seoul, I detoured to Yeouido. The campaign HQ buzzed. Natural, with their boss staking his career.
"What brings you, sir? Trouble?"
"No, just dawn trip for Seoul business. Come in."
I asked the reception girl for coffee, then sat with Chief Kim Sil-jang.
Coffee arrived; I relayed Lee Hoejang's pitch.
"What do you think?"
"Situation's optimistic without joining them. Your tour reaches only delegates, not the public—this boosts mass recognition."
"Shall we?"
"Lee Hoejang's likely secured the vehicles already. They'd distribute without you. Better we both win."
We pivoted fully: Run supreme race as-is, push bath donations separately, cleverly linking via me. That way, candidates wouldn't feel slighted.
Per Lee Hoejang, delivery took a week—urgent. I called to confirm we'd proceed his way, then booked the evening train to Daegu.