Legal Vows Before the Ballot
“Honey, have some coffee.”
The rich aroma of coffee woke me, and there she was, holding out a cup. She'd apparently ordered room service while I was out. This was the so-called presidential suite, with separate bedroom and living room—perfect for VIPs who valued privacy. No wonder she'd felt comfortable calling it in.
We sipped our coffee together, then had breakfast via room service before I headed down to the parking lot. She'd decided to stay at the hotel until they found a place, so we agreed to meet at the office in the afternoons or for me to drop by the hotel in the evenings.
When I got to the office, the on-duty staff were far more lively than the day before. Must've been those thick envelopes of cash Lee Hoejang had handed out before leaving. Their attitudes toward me had warmed up considerably—friendly yet respectful. Money really was power; I felt it that morning more than ever.
I wrapped up the morning's work and called Ara's mother to set up a visit home.
“Mother-in-law, I'm sorry I haven't stopped by in so long.”
“I know you've been busy—what's there to apologize for?”
“I have something to discuss, that's all.”
“What is it?”
“I'm running in the April general election. That means Ara and I need to get married soon, but our schedules just don't line up.”
“Why not wait until after the election?”
“Voters see single candidates differently from married ones. And even if Ara helps with my campaign, being my wife carries more weight than being my fiancée.”
“I see. So what would you prefer?”
“I've thought of two options: a simple ceremony and register right away, or just register now, run the election, and have the ceremony later.”
“Register first?”
“Ara only gets one wedding in her life. I don't want it rushed.”
“Then do that. Of course, we'll hear what Ara thinks, but I doubt she'll object.”
“I'm sorry, Mother-in-law.”
“What can we do? Your election comes first.”
Surprisingly, things went smoothly with Ara's mother. After our talk, I took a sip of the now-cold coffee, left the house, and headed to the library. Lunch break was about thirty minutes away, so I texted Ara to meet me in the parking lot when it started, then lit a cigarette.
She came running toward me before the clock even hit noon.
“Honey~”
“You'll trip—slow down~”
She barreled into my arms. How did she muster the courage to do that at her own workplace, ignoring all the stares?
“Girl, what if someone sees?”
“Pfft~ Who's gonna say anything if I hug my man?”
“Fine. I came to talk anyway—let's grab lunch and chat.”
Not wanting to waste time, I left the car and we ducked into a restaurant next to the library. We got a private room, ordered food, and sat face-to-face.
“I just came from seeing your mom.”
“Yeah? What for?”
“To run in April, we need to get married first.”
“Pfft~ Like you even have time for a wedding.”
“That's why I wanted your take.”
“My take on what?”
“We gotta marry, but I don't want some half-assed ceremony. What if we register now, finish the election, then do the wedding proper?”
“What'd Mom say?”
“She said go for it if that's the situation—but your opinion matters most.”
“Same here. Unnie mentioned something like that before.”
“You saw Eun-mi?”
“Oh crap! We promised to keep it secret. crying”
“It's fine. So you're okay with it?”
“Yeah. You winning the election comes first.”
“Thanks—and sorry. After it's over, we'll throw a wedding your friends envy, one you'll never forget.”
“Nah. Just marrying you is enough to make me happy.”
And with that, the marriage issue was settled. The next day, I downloaded the registration form, got handwritten signatures from both sets of parents as witnesses, and went with Ara to the district office to submit it. As we walked out, we were officially husband and wife.
“Honey~”
“Girl, you're giving me chills—cut it out.”
“Pfft~ I worked up the nerve to call you that.”
“You don't need to. Just be yourself.”
“So... what about the house?”
“What house?”
“Where we're gonna live.”
“We can figure that out after the wedding.”
“So even after registering, we live apart?”
“You thought we'd move in right away?”
“Duh. Why else would I marry a taken man?”
“Girl, you're something else. What about your mom?”
“She wants us together too.”
“We'll think about combining households.”
“No way. I wanna wake up in your arms.”
In the end, Ara's stubbornness—and our parents' approval—won out. We rented a 20-pyeong villa and started living together (technically). She insisted on keeping her library job for now, so I was stuck with toast, fried eggs, and coffee for breakfast every morning like some pitiful newlywed. But the honeymoon phase was sweet.
“Ara, when do you get off?”
“Unnie? What's up? I'm just about to head out.”
“Come on out. Let's do dinner.”
Eun-mi occasionally called Ara to hang out and bond. Today, she'd called from the library parking lot, waiting to take her to dinner.
“Whoa~ Is this your car, Unnie?”
“Yeah. Brought it from Seoul.”
Ara gasped at the red sedan Eun-mi drove. From a regular person's view, a multi-million-won luxury ride was enviable.
“Your family really is loaded.”
“Want it? I could gift it.”
“No way—I couldn't afford the upkeep on my salary.”
“Once Maru wins, maintenance won't be an issue.”
“Nah. If he wins and I drove this, he'd get flak.”
“True. Folks here still side-eye foreign cars, especially politicians.”
After chatting cars for a bit, they remembered dinner and shifted to food talk.
“My treat tonight—what're you craving?”
“You buying dinner?”
“Yep. Felt bad not visiting during your big crisis last time.”
“Not coming was a relief, honestly.”
“Anyway.”
“Okay. Let's get dumplings—Maru mentioned a good spot.”
“You eat that stuff?”
“Pfft~ I love sundae and tteokbokki.”
“For real?”
“Totally. Back in the day, I'd hit Busan's International Market alley stalls with friends—glass noodles and all.”
“Whoa~ Chaebol daughters eat street food? Epic!”
Ara was amazed that Eun-mi—the only daughter of a top Korean conglomerate—ate things like sundae and tteokbokki. I had thought the same before visiting her home; I figured it was parties or chef-cooked meals daily.
“Everyone's tastes are the same. Ask Maru later. Or come to my Seoul place for dinner sometime—you'll get it.”
“Honey's been to your house?”
“Yeah. Dad called him over a few times to push the congressman thing.”
“So your family knows about you two.”
“Speaking of—still calling him 'honey'? You registered already.”
“Yeah. Tried 'darling'—he hated it.”
“'Darling' might be too much. Just call him 'honey' normally.”
“Feels weird.”
“Anyway, wedding plans—what do you want?”
“Not up to me alone, but outdoors. Wedding halls feel like flea markets—no meaning to it.”
“Got it. I'll handle it.”
The wedding topic came up mid-chat, and Eun-mi offered to help. She'd probably rope in a planner from her company's PR team. That was her style.
Their talk dragged on endlessly, ending only late when Eun-mi dropped Ara at the villa.
Meanwhile, I'd wrapped up a meetup with Jeong-ah's online crew, seen everyone off, and was now across from her at a coffee shop.
“Oppa, today's meetup was good, right?”
“Yeah, you did great. But you okay? Still looked wiped.”
“I'm fine—just tired. Any promising folks from today?”
“Three or four stood out.”
“First time, so low turnout. Anyway, we named the group.”
“What?”
“Maru Fleet.”
“What's that mean?”
“'The fleet changing the world with Park Maru.' Acronym. We'll rebrand before the election.”
“Too grandiose. World-changing? With my power?”
“That's why we team up.”
“Fair enough. Handle the details—micromanaging kills momentum.”
“Yeah. Having you here rocks. You'll still meet up after marriage?”
“Talked it over with Ara?”
“With Unnie, yeah—but I wanna hear from you.”
“Call anytime if you need me.”
“Thanks, Oppa.”
Thanks to Jeong-ah's efforts, this prelim candidate had a fan group. Given her personality and skills, it'd be huge for my political rise. The name "Maru Fleet" felt a tad corny, though.