Taekwon Boy Maruchi Hits the Streets
"Good morning."
"Come on in, Candidate."
After exchanging morning greetings, I returned to the election office, where the place buzzed with vibrant energy. The two-day break had injected everyone with fresh, bright spirits. I gathered the volunteers into the meeting room and made copies of the poll data Heo Sang-do had provided yesterday before heading in.
Ara, Eun-mi, and Kim Yeosa were bustling around, serving tea at each table. Once that was done, I turned to the volunteers and spoke up.
"Did you all get some good rest?"
"Yes!"
They shouted back in unison, like a cheer.
"But I see some particularly pale male party members and a few glowing female ones. Did you hit the hot springs a bit too hard? If you're practicing your marital duties so intensely that it interferes with the election, I'll get jealous."
"Who the hell would do something that stupid at a time like this?"
The room erupted in chuckles as they turned to scan each other's faces, hunting for the culprits.
"I trust you can sense the mood on the ground right now. I met someone from an intelligence agency who shared some really encouraging news, so I called you all here to pass it on. Rather than me explaining it, take a look at these printouts yourselves. And once everyone's seen them, we have to shred them—so please pass them forward after you're done."
Even as I spoke, Jeong-ah kept snapping photos nonstop. Eun-mi, Ara, and Kim Yeosa were busy carrying trays of sliced fruit, cookies, and rice cakes to the volunteers.
The volunteers skimmed the printouts, their faces lighting up with joy. They started chatting excitedly, exchanging glances, and even high-fiving.
"Hold on a second."
The room fell silent at my words, and I continued.
"But this is just the early stage of the election. The real game hasn't even started yet, so no need to get too carried away. Betting everything on these results could turn into poison. Let me ask you one more time: for the remaining month, if you keep up the same effort you've shown so far, we'll win. Just do what you've been doing, and that's all I ask."
"Applause!"
At the office manager's call, everyone cheered and clapped wildly. Shortly after, using an "on-duty staff meeting" as an excuse, we sent the volunteers out, leaving just the office manager, Kim Sil-jang, the Youth Committee Chair, the Women's Committee Chair, and Jeong-ah in the room. I flipped through the returned printouts, checking the serial numbers marked on them. Out of twenty-four pages, one was missing.
"Which number?"
"Number 17."
"Put up the photos Heo Timjang took on the monitor."
When we pulled up Jeong-ah's photos, we spotted an elderly volunteer who'd been very active sitting in the spot where I'd handed out page seventeen. We'd already checked the floor and elsewhere for drops, so no more words were needed.
"What do you think, Candidate Park?"
"We've identified one person, so let's just keep an eye on her. No major security issues yet, so stay vigilant, lock your desk drawers tight, set passwords on your computers, and we'll rent a separate public PC soon. That way, no one will complain."
The meeting wrapped up, and the office hummed along peacefully as if nothing had happened. I was out on the streets from dawn till late night, meeting voters until I was utterly drained.
Finally, candidate registration day arrived. The ballot number was already set, so the registration itself was mostly procedural, but I showered early, changed into fresh clothes, and headed out. At the election commission, newspaper and broadcast reporters were already waiting. As soon as I arrived, they swarmed for photos.
I hadn't expected much attention as a rookie, but this district was former Congressman Hwang's stronghold, and current polls showed me leading by a wide margin, so that drew the press. I gave brief answers to their questions, bowed politely, and headed upstairs to submit the registration papers.
Kim Sil-jang had handled countless registrations for Hwang's elections and even local races, so the paperwork was flawless—no nitpicks from the commission. I finished early and left.
"Candidate Park."
"Yes, Reporter Kim."
"Got time for lunch today?"
"If you reporters say so, I'll make time even if I don't have it."
I headed to a nearby restaurant with a few political reporters.
"Aigoo, Candidate Park is here."
"Yes, came to mooch some lunch."
"What'll it be?"
"What do you feel like?"
"How about chicken stew?"
A local reporter suggested chicken stew, and most shouted "Call!"
"But our Candidate Park, first-time runner, coming out swinging."
"Aigoo, what do you mean? I'm still a total newbie."
"Polls show you dominating, though."
"You reporters know better than anyone that polls can kill you if you trust them blindly."
"Aigoo, Candidate Park, such a worrier. Any new scoops?"
"Haven't heard anything. Kim Sil-jang's handling planning anyway."
"The Kim aide who worked for Congressman Hwang?"
"Yes, he's on planning."
"What about that Baek aide? Heard he's over there?"
"Yeah, that's what I heard."
"Why'd he stick to you so much?"
"Who knows. I was his junior in the party, so maybe it felt awkward."
"Heard rumors you're hiding your young secretary. True?"
"First I've heard of it."
I'd anticipated the question, but it came straight at me. It wasn't time to reveal details yet, so I played it off as news to me—neither confirming nor denying.
"If that spreads, it'll hurt your campaign. You okay with that?"
"If it actually gets out there, I'd have to respond legally."
I sweated bullets inside but smiled through their persistent grilling. Eventually, they dropped it, laughed, shook hands, and left. The opponent would learn I hadn't admitted or denied it, assume the rumor was true, and spread it early in the campaign. That's when I'd counterattack.
A week later, we submitted candidate posters to the commission. Everyone in the office—not just the banner team, but most volunteers—stayed late, loading banners into their cars and waiting for midnight.
At the stroke of midnight, they posted them all at their assigned spots, returned, and raised shot glasses of soju with jokbal as a snack.
"To Candidate Park Maru's victory!"
"Victory!"
At the office manager's lead, we clinked glasses high and downed the shots.
"You've all worked so hard these past four months. But the real war starts now. For the next two weeks, let's give it everything we've got and win!"
No more words needed. With resolute faces glowing with determination, we eyed each other, pledged victory silently, and tilted our glasses to welcome election day one. A full dawn rally was scheduled, so we wrapped the short after-party with regrets aside.
The official campaign kicked off. This marked the start of the two-week war—the climax of our 120-day journey—that would decide if I'd spend the next four years jobless or as a congressman.
For day one, to crush the opponent's momentum and grab voter attention, we mobilized every election staffer and volunteer to the district's busiest spot.
Locals walked there; a few hardcore party members drove vans at dawn to pick up volunteers from their neighborhoods and ferry them to the site. We assembled our full camp force.
Finally, the time came to play the campaign vehicle video. The massive screen blared a catchy logo song with flashy visuals. Staffers danced taekwondo moves to the speakers' beat, drawing eyes from all around.
"Who are those campaigners?"
"Pretty slick, but aren't they cold?"
"That logo song sounds familiar. What is it?"
"Aigoo, young folks these days. Don't even know Taekwon Boy Maruchi."
"Aigoo, and you old timers must love being all wrinkled up."
Onlookers whispered as they watched our staff demo taekwondo to the Taekwon Boy Maruchi cartoon theme. Success. The concept was Jeong-ah's brainchild—mashing my name, Maru, with Ara's into Maruchi. It birthed today's results. At midnight, Jeong-ah's fan cafe had rebranded to "Taekwon Boy Maruchi," and all promo materials followed suit.
As the taekwondo demo ended, the big monitor narrated: "On April 12th at 9 PM, witness the real wedding of Taekwon Boy Maruchi and Taekwon Girl Arachi at Song Sang-hyeon Plaza." Subtitles rolled with an animated wedding scene at the plaza.