Strategic Wife and Rejuvenating Rest

In fact, I had my own plan for this situation. I'd already registered my marriage with Ara, and the opposing camp was surely desperate to dig up dirt on me. As long as no one knew she was my wife yet, if they found out we were living together, they'd drag it out to paint me as an immoral candidate. My strategy was to hit them head-on when that happened.

That's why I'd blended Ara in among the volunteers visiting the office. That way, any spies from the other side would assume I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just had an affair with a volunteer girl. I reminded the Women's Committee Chair once more to keep security tight.

"Chairwoman, what we just discussed is top-secret. Just remember it's one of my cards to strike back at them once the main election kicks off. Treat that girl like you always do."

"But still, how can we treat the candidate's wife like—"

"If you can't handle it, she won't be coming back to the office starting tomorrow."

"Understood."

For the Women's Committee Chair, this reality was probably a relief. Seeing the candidate's wife quietly hauling gear and doing the grunt work alongside the volunteers would only boost her image. For the time being, Ara could forget everything and just focus on office duties.

Anyway, the evening's vibe was too good to waste, so the female party members and volunteers called their husbands to join, while the men called their wives. They all piled into the karaoke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spot next to the campaign office to blow off steam from days of grueling work.

In elections, women's roles were far more crucial than men's, so without the full support of the volunteers' and staffers' husbands, their efforts couldn't shine. Getting those husbands on board was key. After belting out tunes for an hour and a half, the volunteers headed home in high spirits. I returned to the office and sank into my chair.

"Honey, why don't you crash at home with Ara?"

"Honestly, I can't even be bothered to get up."

"Then come stay at my place."

"Is that okay with you, unnie?"

"What's the problem with that?"

"Then let's go to unnie's and crash there, honey."

In the end, we dragged our weary feet to Eun-mi's place, which was close to the office. Jeong-ah was already there, so I took a quick shower and collapsed into the room Eun-mi showed me. When I woke, the spot beside me was empty.

"Sleep well, honey?"

"Yeah. You're up early."

"Wasn't it lonely sleeping alone?"

"I was out cold."

"Ara, Jeong-ah, and I all slept together. They're your girls anyway."

"Let them rest a bit more. I'll head out first."

"At least eat breakfast before you go."

"You already made breakfast?"

"I've got election experience, you know. From now on, you and Ara can stay here and commute."

"Won't that inconvenience you?"

"They're not strangers, and we'll be seeing them all the time. Might as well get closer now."

As Eun-mi said, we decided to base ourselves at her place for the campaign stretch. Whether she'd anticipated this with her election savvy or just remembered living large, she'd knocked two apartments into one—perfectly explainable if rumors ever surfaced. I had no choice but to agree. We faked a lease contract under her name for the adjacent unit and asked Ara to register the address change at the community center before heading out.

My body was wearing down from the nonstop grind, but my mind sharpened. The volunteers arriving at the office were fully immersed, eyes bloodshot and nerves fraying. I started eyeing a break. Pushing through this tension would backfire in the real fight.

Sunday evening, I wrapped campaigning early and gathered everyone at the office. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I finished my rounds as the sun set and returned.

"From this moment until Wednesday morning, all election activities are on hold!"

"Pardon? What did you say?"

"We're taking two days off from campaigning."

"Candidate, how can you say something so absurd? The election's right around the corner."

"Look at the faces around you. And your eyes."

People glanced around confusedly, murmuring as they checked each other out.

"See? Do those look like normal faces? Bloodshot rabbit eyes all around. That's why we're resting for two days. We've still got over a month left. Can you last like this?"

"Yes! We'll manage."

"Sure, you could tough it out. But efficiency? Anyone feeling chill and happy lately? Raise your hands."

"……."

The office fell silent. They all knew their nerves were shot; the quiet proved it. They silently agreed, and we set the next two days as official rest—no election work.

"Tomorrow, come in by 10 if you can, hit the hot springs, grab lunch, and head home. Then rest fully the day after."

The next morning, cars from local supporters and Lee Hoe-jang's company staff lined up outside. Volunteers eyed them curiously as they climbed the stairs. Once everyone arrived, I assigned groups to the cars. Buses were an option, but sedans were comfier.

We sped down the open highway to Bugok Hot Springs, soaked away the stress, then rented a garden restaurant nearby for nourishing meals to mend our battered bodies. This wasn't my idea—the election pros dispatched by Lee Hoe-jang suggested it, and I approved. As an outsider, I'd have done the same, but as the candidate, sacrificing two days felt risky.

Anyway, the volunteers left with fresh, beaming faces, waving goodbyes. They'd enjoy a dreamlike day off tomorrow.

The next morning at the office, the Office Manager was already there. For him, the office beat lounging at home.

"Whoa, I told you to rest—why are you here?"

"Then why are you here, Candidate Park?"

"Bro, you're supposed to set an example."

"You know how long I've been in this game. I'll handle myself—focus on your work."

"You're driving me nuts, bro."

"What'd I even do?"

As we bickered over coming in, Kim Sil-jang pushed open the door. I scolded them, but inwardly I was tearing up with gratitude. No one would fault them for staying home, which showed they treated this like their own election.

"Bro, you're here too?"

"Hey, is this just your election? It's mine too. If I want to work on my campaign, butt out."

"Exactly. Kim Sil-jang, spot on. If that guy becomes president, it'll be full dictatorship."

"Aigoo, you two big shots are full of it."

Our political bonds, calling each other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bro, filled me with pride. To hide the tears, I hunched over my monitor, wiping my eyes and biting back sobs.

A web search showed Jeong-ah hadn't rested either. She'd snapped Ara in an apron in the kitchen—who knows when—with a short caption and a link. Curious, I clicked: a fan cafe, already buzzing. 'A fan cafe for a political newbie?' I chuckled and logged in. It was lively—campaign clips, volunteer stories, even how Ara and I met, detailed. Interviews from that kachin meetup too.

"Candidate Park."

"Heo Information Officer, how've you been?"

"Thanks to you. Things are looking good."

"Aw, come on."

"No, it's true. Busy?"

"Nah, everyone's off today."

"Resting? Ballsy move. Mind if I drop by?"

"Anytime."

I got the call while browsing cafe posts. He must've been nearby; soon he walked in. I seated him and poured coffee.

"Honored. Coffee from a future assemblyman."

"Still a long way to go."

"Our intel says you're the frontrunner."

"Really?"

"Yes, Chief. It's true—overwhelmingly so. That's why I'm here."

He slid over an A4 sheet. It detailed multi-candidate matchups with the preliminary opponents and 1:1s against the rival party's hopefuls—predicted support rates.

If this held, victory was a lock. Party polls showed me ahead too, but as a total newbie against established names, I'd walked on eggshells. Seeing the police data eased my mind. A weight lifted.