Foundations of Favor and a Daughter's Burden
Leaving her place, he headed to Mi-hyang's office where she worked. It was tucked away on a side street off the main road in Jongno-gu. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he spotted a green sign reading Youth Culture Foundation.
"Assemblyman Park, come on in."
"Hey, girl, you pretending you don't see me?"
"Got it. Enough already—come in. What'll you have to drink?"
"I'll take vegetable juice. What about you, Maru?"
"Coffee for me, please. Instant coffee if you have it."
Mi-hyang went to the kitchenette in the corner of the office, prepared the drinks, set them down in front of them, and took her seat.
"Heading back down today?"
"Yeah, I have to. But what's this about?"
"This is where I work. As the name suggests, it started with the goal of helping teens with cultural activities."
"But why me?"
"We're only operating in Seoul right now, but I'm thinking of expanding to Busan and Daegu. You're the only person I know there."
"I'm a total outsider when it comes to culture stuff."
"That won't be a problem. Just help out when our kids want to put on a show—securing venues would be enough. Since you're in politics, it'd be way easier for you to ask government offices than for me. And we're still small-scale, so we don't have our own lighting or stage equipment. That's where we could use your help."
"If that's the issue, I'll do my best to assist. But if it overlaps with election season, honestly, that's impossible."
"Thank you."
The request wasn't a tough one. Venues could be secured from Busan City or local districts—they'd welcome it rather than refuse. Stage setup could be handled cheaply through contractors he used for elections. After wrapping up the discussion at her office with some casual chat, she led them out for lunch.
"This place is really good."
"Pfft—hangover soup?"
"It's not 'just' hangover soup—the taste is the point."
"Is this because of that hangover soup we had in Gyeongju last time?"
"Yeah. It's a bit different from that one in Gyeongju, but it's refreshing, so it's fine."
The hangover soup arrived, and they started eating, adding green onions and seasoning paste to taste. Honestly, it was cleaner than the place at Paluujeong Rotary in Gyeongju, but the basic flavor fell short. Cheongjin-dong's version was famous too, but it still lacked something essential to true hangover soup. Maybe that's why they set out the seasoning and onions unlike in Gyeongju. Still, the cleanliness appealed to him. After lunch, he parted ways with Mi-hyang in front of the restaurant and headed to Seoul Station. Eun-mi insisted on driving him, but he left her with Mi-hyang and hurried to the subway alone.
"Honey, you on the train?"
"Yeah, just left."
"I wanted to see you off."
"What if someone spots us there? We have to be careful."
"Okay. Safe travels."
"Yeah. Take care. I'll call often."
"Honey, I love you~"
"Mi-hyang's not next to you?"
"It's fine. No secrets between us anyway."
After hanging up with her, he texted Ara that he'd swing by the library after she got off work.
"How've you all been?"
"Oh, Secretary Park, welcome back. How'd it go?"
"Fine. Nothing going on at the office?"
"What trouble would there be? Everything sorted?"
"Yeah, nothing major. Let's have some tea."
He gathered the on-duty volunteers at the conference table. Kim Yeosa and the Women's Committee Chair prepared the tea while the others took seats. Once it was ready, he pulled envelopes from his pocket and handed one to each.
"What's this?"
"Just cab fare—use it."
"Where'd you get money like that?"
"I did a little side gig, actually."
"Why give us your part-time cash, Secretary Park?"
"I get paid by the National Assembly, but you folks don't have anyone footing the bill. So we share the side gig money. Not much, just for transport."
"Well, now."
The volunteers hesitated a bit but picked up the envelopes with bright smiles. With funding secured going forward, he doled out 500,000 won each from the money he'd received for handling that previous matter. It excused his two-day absence for personal business, but more importantly, with elections on the horizon where he'd run himself, this was no wasted investment. If he couldn't turn these core on-duty folks into his people, any newcomers wouldn't gain traction with the established networks, breeding internal strife. Taking care of the current team came first.
"Drinks tonight?"
"Sounds good~"
"Hold up. I've still got work to wrap, so let's push to Friday and really let loose?"
"Even better. Friday it is—clear your schedules. Deal?"
"Perfect. Friday, let's go all out."
"Secretary Park."
"Yes, Madam Chair?"
"Know anyone at a hospital?"
"I can find someone. Family member ill?"
"No. There's this grandma in the district living with her daughter, but the daughter's mind wanders. Can't afford hospitalization, can't leave her be—grandma's worried sick."
"Didn't ask a social worker?"
"We took her to one like the office manager said, but it's not easy."
"I see. Let's go check it out together."
He left the office, picked up the Women's Committee Chair, and drove to the home where the grandma and her daughter lived. En route, she filled him in on the details, and they arrived. Like any city, folks on the hillside roads were mostly economically strained—near-destitute. No wonder they couldn't hospitalize despite serious illness. Pushing open the rickety gate, a hunched grandma greeted them, barely able to straighten up.
"Back again, ma'am? No use coming—no fix."
"Yes, Grandma. This is Park Maru, secretary to Assemblyman Hwang Seong-tae. Thought he could help more with your daughter, so I brought him."
"Mother, first time meeting."
"A high-up like you, coming to this dump."
"Mother, I'm not high-up. Make yourself comfy."
They listened as she described her daughter's symptoms. No expert himself, but from the story, it screamed schizophrenia. Fine most days, then sudden screams of someone trying to kill her, smashing phones convinced of wiretaps. Auditory and visual hallucinations, classic signs. He promised to follow up soon, returned to the office, and consulted a psychiatrist he knew casually.
"Dr. Kim, this is Park Maru from Assemblyman Hwang Seong-tae's office."
After relaying the symptoms, Dr. Kim said he'd need to examine her, but based on the description, closed-ward admission and treatment were urgent. For indigent medical aid, he'd get a referral to Professor Kim Seong-gon at Pusan National University Hospital, expert in schizophrenia—grandma would go to Gil Medical Center in her daughter's stead. Heeding Dr. Kim's warning of potential urgency, he returned with the Women's Committee Chair, explained to grandma, and took her to Gil for the referral to a tertiary hospital. With her consent for admission, after several tries, he reached Professor Kim Seong-gon.
"Professor, Park Maru from Assemblyman Hwang Seong-tae's office. Busy, I know—quick word?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"One of our constituents has schizophrenia. Dr. Kim Seok-ho at Gil referred her to you—calling on his recommendation."
"Hold on. I'll talk to my scheduling nurse—call back at 123-4567."
"Yes, sorry to bother. Thank you."
"Come in."
After hanging up, he called Cha, former union chair at Pusan National University Hospital's radiology.
"Manager Cha, doing well?"
"Yes, thanks to you. And you?"
"Constituent with urgent schizophrenia. Heard waits for Professor Kim Seong-gon run months—stuck."
"Checked other hospitals?"
"Gil insisted on him."
"Sounds serious. Can't promise, but I'll check scheduling—nurse will call you."
"Thanks. Lunch soon."
"If you come here, it's on me."
After that call and a smoke, he dialed the professor's scheduling nurse—enough time had passed.
"Hello? Professor Kim said to call. Park Maru, Assemblyman Hwang Seong-tae's secretary."
"Yes, he called. Radiology Manager Cha too. But bookings are backed three months—no immediate slots."
"I know. But it's urgent. Any way?"
"Cancellations happen rarely—who knows when."
"Ah, that could work. If one cancels, could you let me know? Please."
"Sure. Your contact?"
"Thanks. Cell 010-5555-5555, office 051-555-5555."
He'd whined to Cha earlier; Cha said wait patiently. Ex-union chair—nurse likely union too. He'd handle it, he hoped.