Power & Sex, and... 22
“Have those juniors of yours come over here. Come on up, have a drink with us, crash here, and head out tomorrow.”
While I was chatting with Do Cheol-rak, a call came in from one of his juniors.
“No, sir, how could people like us sleep in the same place as you, Assemblyman? We couldn’t possibly.”
“What do you mean, ‘people like us,’ Cheol-rak? Don’t you know how grateful I am to you? Talk like that, and I’ll feel hurt.”
“Hyung-nim, you and us—we live in different worlds. Mixing with roughnecks like us water merchants and brawlers won’t do you any good.”
“Let me ask you one thing, Cheol-rak.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you still throwing punches these days?”
“No, not anymore.”
“You run a liquor wholesale business, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s business, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re just a businessman, Cheol-rak.”
“But back in the day—”
“The past is the past. To me, you look like a businessman, plain and simple. One who’s helped me out a ton when times were tough, at that.”
“Assemblyman!”
“Please, drop the ‘Assemblyman’ bit already. Hearing it from close folks like you just isn’t fun.”
In the end, Cheol-rak couldn’t break my stubbornness and called his juniors to the officetel. They stood there looking stunned at my place, but after I practically ordered them to sit down several times, they glanced at Cheol-rak and finally shuffled into their seats, all hesitant.
As time passed, the mood loosened up a bit. Ignoring Cheol-rak’s protests, I headed down to the first floor, bought beer and snacks for them, and drinks for myself, then came back up. When I walked in with bags in both hands, his juniors jumped up and rushed to the entryway. I handed them the bags, pulled out three pairs of training pants and shirts from the dresser drawer, and gave them to the guys to change into.
“Hyung-nim, you should move.”
“I’m gonna have to soon anyway.”
“Where to?”
“Not sure yet. Lee Hoe-jang’s forcing me to relocate, so we’ll see then.”
“Good to hear. When you do, throw a housewarming. We’ll come up.”
“Sure thing.”
“Shouldn’t you bring your wife along?”
“Nah. If I drag her up to Seoul too, I’ll slack on constituency work. She’s on board with that.”
“Then how about we send one of our guys as your driver?”
“Aigoo, Cheol-rak, a librarian riding around in a car driven by some gangster? People would point fingers. Things are fine as they are.”
“Still, what if something dangerous happens?”
“That won’t happen. Don’t worry.”
Cheol-rak was a worrier, and blindly loyal to me to boot. He’d brought up my wife probably because Ara had once mentioned feeling like someone was watching or following her. Maybe he’d assigned a junior to shadow her just in case. Of course, if I asked, he’d deny it flat out, so no point checking.
Night deepened gradually. Whether out of respect for Cheol-rak or my status as an assemblyman, his juniors sat ramrod straight till late, eyes wary of any slip-up. To put them at ease, I called it a night on the drinks.
“Assemblyman, you’re up!”
When I woke and stepped into the living room, one of the juniors bent at a perfect ninety degrees with a booming greeting. It wasn’t exactly routine, but not alien either, so I just smiled and acknowledged them.
“Hope you all slept well. Must’ve been cramped with your builds.”
“No, sir! Slept like babies.”
“Where’s Cheol-rak?”
“He went to grab stuff for spicy fish stew—said you needed breakfast, Assemblyman.”
What a guy. Couldn’t trust his juniors with it, so he’d dragged one along to the fish market himself. Soon after, they returned; one buddy who’d worked as a sushi joint kitchen hand sliced up sashimi, prepped the fillets, and simmered a stew from the bones and heads. That was breakfast. First proper home-cooked morning meal in Seoul since I’d arrived—no breakfast meetings, just raw fish and stew.
After eating, I saw them off from the officetel entrance and headed to Yeouido for work. At the office, I plugged in the USB Cheol-rak had given me last night. Nearly a hundred files loaded up. Unredacted originals. Skimming a few, I saw not just Suji but a dozen or so young girls tangled up with dozens of so-called social leaders—politicos, officials, the works.
I copied them onto my own USB, then called Dong-hyun and asked him to grab fifty blanks. Soon he came to my room. I had him blind the girls’ bodies and faces in my office, then duplicate each file onto separate sticks for the ministers, police chief, top prosecutors, assemblymen—their numbers matching the copies. This USB was my chokehold on SJ Entertainment’s Hwang Bo-jun, and one of my biggest weapons for surviving politics.
First, I called the police chief, set a meet, and headed to police HQ.
“What brings you to our humble digs, Assemblyman? Should’ve called—I’d have come to you.”
The chief greeted me with a routine smile in his office, oblivious to what was coming.
After some idle chat, as our coffee cooled, I pulled the USB with his sex tape from my inner pocket and handed it over.
“Picked up something baffling. Check it out first to confirm.”
Thinking I wanted a favor, he chuckled and loaded the file on his computer. Moments later, as expected, his face hardened, body trembling.
“Assemblyman, how did you—?”
“Relax first. I came into it somehow, but this won’t hurt you.”
“How the hell did this happen?”
“Remember where?”
“Yes.”
I calmed him, explained the string of incidents at SJ Entertainment, noted how Hwang Bo-jun’s computer brimmed with similar files used to blackmail elites for leverage, and asked for appropriate action.
The chief bowed repeatedly, thanking me profusely, vowing a thorough probe on Hwang Bo-jun. Sure, he might later suspect I held the originals, but that’d only make him bow lower— no loss for me.
Leaving police HQ, I hit the Chief Prosecutors’ Office. Same deal there—handed the USB to its star, got the same rattled reaction. Not lackeys, but now I had leverage over police and prosecutors. Thanks to Hwang Bo-jun’s USB.
I took it to the government complex next, met two ministers from the videos, then major media bosses—newspaper pres, broadcast execs—burning the day away. With plants in government and media (not full heart-and-souls, but close), time to rope in National Assembly folks, my main stage.
Hwang Bo-jun’s drive had tapes not just of our party but ruling party heavyweights too. Lucky me, a first-term assemblyman holding their leashes. Play it right, and it’d boost my standing big time. Spent two days shuttling to pols, bureaucrats, media—worn out. Skipped the small fry from fatigue, no USBs for them.
By now, they’re probably sweating bullets, eyeing each other warily, agonizing over how to handle this without fallout—can’t bury it, so who’s the scapegoat?—tearing their hair out.
“Assemblyman Park, got a moment?”
Next morning, a call from one of the porn vid stars in the prosecutors’ office.
“Sure. Want me to come to the prosecutors’?”
“No, if you show up, reporters’ll go berserk wondering what’s up. May I treat you to lunch today?”
They’d hashed it out among themselves. No reason to dodge, so I accepted. At the spot, not just prosecutors but the police chief, our party senior, ruling party floor spokesperson, newspaper pres, broadcast programming head— all seated already.
“How’d you get that file? We can’t know?”
“No clue how it leaked. A supporter called my office saying they had a tip, met ‘em outside, and they handed it over.”
“Can you contact the tipster?”
“Nah, regular phone. Called back later—public payphone.”
“So what do you want done with it, Assemblyman?”
“I don’t want a blowup. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“But you must want something.”
“What would I want from fine folks serving the nation? I could’ve leaked it, but you can guess why I didn’t. Just enforce the law strictly without escalating. That’s it.”
No more needed. Punish Hwang Bo-jun to close phase one; call in favors later as required. I enjoyed a lavish, relaxed lunch on them, strolling back to the Members’ Office Building light-hearted. Suji’s chains were nearly off. Of course, those lunch hosts would live with a live bomb strapped to them as long as I breathed—tick, tick, tick.