Power & Sex, and... 102

Finally, Wednesday arrived. It was the day to put the finishing touch on the strategy to boost our candidates' support in this party convention. But I didn't need to step out front myself, nor would that have worked anyway.

"Assemblyman, have you heard the news?"

Kim Sil-jang had crossed over to the Members' Office Building by the time I got to work in the morning. He must have rushed over after hearing about the press conference. Suddenly, it hit me—I hadn't told him about it. I must have been so swamped that I'd overlooked briefing someone as key as him.

"You mean the press conference? Sorry, I've been out of it and forgot to fill you in, brother."

"Assemblyman! This is the office. But how the hell did those bastards come up with something that clever?"

"Aigoo, it's just us here. Anyway, no need to worry. Just send someone later to check the content, and that'll be that."

"How can we trust those guys? Instead of sending the kids, I'll go myself."

There was no reason to stop Kim Sil-jang if he wanted to go personally. He'd not only read between the lines of the press release but also gauge the reporters' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reactions. The press conference itself wasn't the issue—what mattered to me was the feedback after reporters saw it and the nuances hidden in what they'd written.

Because one assemblyman's request had suddenly jammed my schedule through the weekend, I hunkered down in my office and made calls to key people in Seoul, setting up dinner meetings with a few important ones.

"Assemblyman, what the hell did you say to those guys?"

"Why? Something go wrong?"

"No. From my view, it was practically a loyalty oath to you."

"That blatant, huh?"

"They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't name you outright, but any sharp reporter would pick up on it. How'd you pull that off?"

Kim Sil-jang, who'd gone to the press conference, knocked on my door. His flushed, excited face told me their statement had packed more punch than expected.

"I gave them hope."

"Pardon?"

"Hope that if they play smart, they might survive."

"You're gonna let them live?"

"In this political world where one's as bad as the next, and they're not the ones who drew a knife on me, there's no need to kill them off. Politics is about using people when needed and discarding them when their value drops, right?"

Judging by Kim Sil-jang's words and expression, today's press conference would exceed my expectations. That meant Han Seong-su, Park Seong-hwan, and Jeong Sang-won were locks for supreme committee seats.

Of course, Kim Seong-gap and Moon Uiwon putting on their show didn't matter to me—whoever won party leader changed nothing. But if this press conference tipped the razor-thin polls toward Kim Seong-gap, it could spiral their rivalry into something uncontrollable. That'd be entertaining, as long as they didn't self-destruct.

The evening papers' political sections were topped by the non-candidacy declaration story. Seo Dong-beom from Ajung Ilbo and others devoted pages 2 and 3 to background details. Seo Dong-beom flat-out said they'd joined my faction to form the party's largest, urging attention to my future moves, and detailed events around me since my election.

Right after the 23 non-candidacy declarers' press conference, the party unusually launched an immediate poll to gauge impact. Kim Sil-jang scrapped his ongoing private poll up to the conference and compiled only post-conference results, commissioning extras for short samples.

The results—both party and private polls—were overwhelmingly better than expected. Han Seong-su, Park Seong-hwan, and Jeong Sang-won dominated with leads so strong that barring surprises in the next ten days, they were locked for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Even Kim Seong-gap was comfortably ahead of Moon Uiwon.

"Congratulations, Assemblyman."

"Aigoo, what for? Nothing for me to celebrate. The candidates should get the congrats."

Party assemblymen who'd sensed the tide shift and met me before called one after another. Per Kim Sil-jang, National Assembly Reform Alliance members were practically camping at the campaign office like full-time staff, not elected officials.

With the mood locked in, I powered off my public phone and called Seo Dong-beom.

"Assemblyman, Seo the reporter here."

"Come to Gwangju with me tomorrow."

"Yes, of course. But what's the Gwangju trip for?"

"It's about the mobile bath vehicle donation. Han Seong-su asked too."

One big hit didn't end everything. Seo could spin tomorrow's Gwangju event nicely, and given his political ambitions, post-convention, I could slot him as party spokesperson to prep for his next general election run. His media connections would still serve me fine.

"Hop in."

"Just take our car?"

"Aigoo, enough. Get in."

"We won't all fit in your car, Assemblyman."

Looking closer, it wasn't just Seo Dong-beom—Kim Seong-ah the anchor from his last Busan trip and the whole cable news team were there.

"This isn't big enough for all that. It's just a quick donation."

"We're here to cover you and Assemblyman Han Seong-su. He's the top supreme committee pick anyway—no loss in filming."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠parked my car in the new building lot and boarded their van. The weekday morning highway was empty; they hit Gyeongbu Expressway, switched to Nonsan-Cheonan, then Honam from Nonsan.

"Why no driver, Assemblyman? You drive yourself when the National Assembly covers the salary?"

"Why hire one when I'm still spry? That driver's pay comes from taxpayers anyway. Better to hire a policy aide who actually helps my work than some luxury driver."

Seo Dong-beom asked why I skipped a chauffeur for self-driving. Once he started questioning, it never ended, so I counterattacked. With others around, a tricky question could backfire later.

"Seo, ever thought of running for office?"

"Me? Politics?"

He jumped like it was absurd, then eyed me pleadingly, asking why bring it up. I smiled and continued.

"With your quick wits, you'd shine in politics more than journalism."

"I don't have the chops for it yet."

He waved it off like nonsense; I just grinned back. Hiding ambition that well showed he'd survive politics fine.

Their speedy media van cut my usual four-hour drive—no rest stop—to three hours straight to Gwangju. No chance to suggest a break riding shotgun, so at City Hall, I finally got out, stiff, and hit the bathroom first.

"Assemblyman, when will you arrive?"

"Just pulled into Gwangju City Hall."

"Got it. I'll head down."

"What? You're already here, Assemblyman Han?"

"Yeah. Having tea with the mayor."

Washing up, I got Han Seong-su's call. Heading out to fetch Seo for the lobby meetup, I spotted Han and who looked like the mayor rushing from the elevator hall.

"Why the rush? I was gonna make Seo wait here, smoke one, then head up."

"Aigoo, my bad for not reading the room. This is Gwangju Mayor."

After Han's intro, we greeted the mayor and followed him—not to the elevator, but stairs.

"My office is on three—fine to walk up?"

"Sure. Gotta save every drop in a country that can't squeeze out oil."

First impression: solid guy. Intentional or not, his natural stair-climbing gait suggested he always skipped the elevator.

The mayor's office was modest. Sipping tea from his aide, we exchanged pleasantries and event talk. He thanked for the mobile bath vehicle; I clarified it was the fan cafe team's call, not mine.

"Where are these fan cafe operators?"

"Should arrive soon. I got here early."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠called Jeong-ah; she and the team were already at City Hall. Told the mayor—they'd arrived—he stood.

"You're greeting them personally?"

"They came all this way to donate for Gwangju citizens. Of course."

We trailed him back to the front plaza. While he greeted Jeong-ah's group, I signaled Seo to head up and bolted for the smoking area. Four hours without a cig—I was losing it.