Power, Sex, and... 21
In a surge of emotion, I raised my voice with the nuance that I was going all the way to the end and laid out everything I had to say. Honestly, in this situation, openly clashing with the central party's administrative office wasn't the smartest business move for me. The party leadership and heavyweights had already tried to strip me of my Electronic Party Committee chairmanship, but that momentum had been thwarted by party members' public opinion. Now, their attempt to neuter the Electronic Party Committee would just invite another round of backlash against them. If the secretary general was even halfway perceptive, he'd realize this issue was best dropped. After all, with a hot potato like this, it's wiser to wait until it cools rather than eating it or tossing it right away.
"Wasn't that going a bit too hard?"
"What's the big deal? Worst case, I lose the Electronic Party Committee chair again."
"Still, thinking about the future—"
"It's fine. Our party can't create a regime without a top-down purge anyway."
The Digital Media Director left the office with a flushed face. Kim Sil-jang came in looking worried, probing the intent behind my aggressive push. I reassured him, then logged into the party bulletin board with my ID and started writing a post.
Blocking the people's channels of expression in a democratic nation is a declaration of intent by those in power to head toward a dictatorship. Likewise, in a democratic party, attempting to silence party members' voices signals a desire to turn the party into a private tool for the leadership or party representatives to satisfy their own needs, rather than a party for the people and ordinary members.
No need for long-winded talk. Just now, the Director of the Central Party's Digital Media Bureau came to my assemblyman's office in the Members' Office Building and demanded that we transfer one of the three clerical staff in our tiny Electronic Party Committee to another department before leaving.
This short two-paragraph post set the party bulletin board ablaze. Countless party members read it, got fired up, left comments, and started posting criticisms of the leadership. Traffic surged so high that the server eventually crashed under the load.
The next day, a banner reading "Awake! Central Party Leadership Blocking Party Members' Voices!" went up in front of the central party headquarters under the name of the "Power of Ordinary Party Members" community. Led by that group, a rally was planned to confront the leadership head-on.
Even during dinner with Assemblyman Park Seong-hwan that evening, the topic dominated our conversation. We concluded that if the party kept muddling along in complacency, seizing the presidency in the next election would remain a pipe dream. Park Seong-hwan seemed to have someone pushing him from behind, but he never revealed who.
The next morning, I got a call from the secretary general early. He'd apparently been briefed on my post during his commute.
"Assemblyman Park, you really gonna do this?"
"Secretary General, what's this out of the blue?"
"Take that bulletin board post down!"
"I didn't say anything wrong, did I? I didn't make anything up either. Give me a valid reason to take it down, and I will."
"You bastard!"
"Secretary General, I'm not some kid who's one or two years old."
"Hey, you punk! When I tell you to take it down, you take it down! Who the hell do you think you are, strutting around like you know politics when you don't know shit?"
"Don't you think you're going too far, sir?"
"This little shit needs to learn to listen when an adult speaks instead of talking back till the end. I'm not letting you off, you dog!"
"Secretary General, I'm not your punk, and I'm a National Assembly member elected directly by the people. Please refrain from insulting the voters."
"Voters, my ass. You think you'll get nominated next time, you fuck? No way in hell you're getting a nomination!"
"I'm hanging up. And remember every insulting word you just said about me."
I had no reason to keep taking abuse, so I ended the call. I saved the recording as a file, uploaded it straight to the homepage, transcribed it into text, and posted it under the title "Conversation with the Secretary General." Whether I intended it or not, full-scale war with the party leadership had begun.
The party bulletin board erupted again, like a street food stall catching fire. Thanks to chairing the Electronic Party Committee, I'd seized the moment to etch the name "Park Maru" firmly in the minds of every party member using the board.
"Assemblyman, call from Assemblyman Seo Jeong-ho."
Over the intercom from the secretary's office, I picked up and spoke with Seo Jeong-ho, a member of the first-term assemblymen group "National Assembly Reform Alliance." Outraged by the secretary general's crude remarks, he suggested convening the full group for a joint response. As the party involved, I said I'd defer to the others' opinions and hung up.
Of course, my actions might momentarily tarnish the party's image, but if they woke up the entrenched leadership—those stuck in mannerism, clinging to their seats, thinking assembly badges in their districts were enough—this could reform the party's makeup. That would be true loyalty to my party and the driving force to elect our candidate in the next presidential race. So, I decided to amplify this incident as fertilizer for party innovation.
Accompanied by a photo of Assemblyman Park Maru, the article took a favorable tone toward him while criticizing the party's complacent leadership. It argued that first-term assemblymen must now lead the reform.
Our party has grown old. Many have worn the assembly badge for decades in one district, perhaps fearing change. Though it claims progressive reform, its assembly members lean heavily conservative, creating internal imbalance and backlash.
Experienced leaders are needed, but with veterans as the face and youth driving change around them, the party lives—and voters support it.
Yet now, multi-term veterans dominate the spotlight, while rookies and second-termers stagnate in obedience, like stagnant, rotting water. Overstatement? It's time for reform—now!
In the end, taking responsibility for the uproar from the phone recording, the secretary general stepped down. But stopping there would leave party reform elusive, and I'd be shunned or ostracized by seniors and leadership. Only one choice: Use this to force the entire leadership to resign en masse, hold a party convention, and elect new blood. That was my survival—and the party's.
"Come on in. You've suddenly become the eye of the storm, Assemblyman Park."
"Sorry for the headache."
"No, you did good—refreshingly so. The leadership has no interest in nurturing first-termers; they're obsessed with guarding their turf. Time to flip the table."
"But will it be easy?"
"If we first-termers unite, let's ask second-termers for help too. They'll have plenty of pent-up frustration."
Our talk with Seo Jeong-ho continued, and midway, Assemblyman Cha Hong-su—another "National Assembly Reform Alliance" member—joined us at the restaurant to discuss next steps.
We agreed: First, gather the full group's consensus, rally second-termers critical of the leadership, and formally demand a party convention from central HQ. So, Seo, Cha, and Park Seong-hwan would lead by collecting signatures from alliance members.
"Bro, we've secured it."
As I stood to leave after meeting Seo and Cha, Do Cheol-rak called. I excused myself, waved goodbye, got in the car, and answered.
"So, what now?"
"Where are you?"
"Yeouido. Want me to come to you?"
"No. I'll head near your place."
At the officetel parking lot, Do Cheol-rak was already waiting, so I led him and Dong-hyun inside.
"Whoa, this is how an assemblyman lives?"
"I'm single anyway—what's the difference? Just crash here at night and bounce. So, what happened?"
"We searched his office, the reception room, his house, and his car. Nothing in the car. Copied his office computer and CDs—blinded the girls' bodies and faces for storage. Did the same at his house."
He handed me a USB. I took it, thanked them for the hard work, paid Dong-hyun the agreed fee, and praised him too.
"Can I trust that kid?"
"Yeah. No betrayal, no leaks."
"Anyway, scared him good."
True to form, Do Cheol-rak had nailed it. Even if Dong-hyun was my trusted junior, he'd double-nailed from his side—no need for me to intervene.
"Where are the other juniors?"
"Took that tubby out of town for some 'education.'"
"Why? Problem?"
"Nah, just can't fully trust mouths. Scare 'em proper, let 'em experience what happens if they talk—then pay up and send off."
"Did you go hard on Dong-hyun too?"
"Figured you know him best, so held off pending your say."
"Good call. No 100%, but he won't betray unless something major hits. Don't worry."
"If you say so, sir, I trust it."
"There you go again. Fun teasing me like that?"
My assemblyman status clearly irked Do Cheol-rak. He was never super casual before, but at least we'd joked sometimes. Now, his face was stiff, treating me like his old boss. Changing his mindset would take time.