Power & Sex, And... 36
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I needed to meet with Officer Heo first. I called the office manager and told him I'd head to the office in the afternoon, then dialed Officer Heo as I drove toward the Busan Metropolitan Police Agency.
"What brings you here so early in the morning, Assemblyman?"
"You got some time today?"
"Yes, sir. I'll come to you. Where should we meet?"
"Nah, I'll just come to you. When's good?"
We agreed to meet at the police agency. When I pulled into the parking lot and called again, Officer Heo came rushing out soon after.
"Welcome. Care to come up for a bit?"
"Nah, let's find somewhere quiet and chat about a few things."
"Sure."
I picked up Officer Heo and headed for Gwangalli Beach. Along the way, he asked occasional questions about what had been going on in Seoul lately, and I gave him concise answers that hit exactly what he needed to hear. After all, he'd ridden the same boat as me before, and as long as he didn't turn his back on me, he was someone I'd have to stick with going forward.
We went into the bar on the first floor of a hotel right on Gwangalli Beach—one I'd learned about through a junior colleague. You couldn't smoke in the main hall, but the single private room allowed it, making it a spot I frequented now and then. More importantly, it was perfect for discreet, quiet conversations.
"You catch the news yesterday?"
"Yeah. That your handiwork, Assemblyman? Smells like it, but I couldn't pin down where it came from."
"That's why I wanted to see you."
"For starters, the Busanjin Police Chief is definitely lining up behind you. The overzealous loyalty checks out, but what happened after doesn't add up. It wasn't the kind of incident that should've stirred up reporters like a swarm of bees."
"Exactly. Honestly, even I can't make sense of how it unfolded. Could you look into it quietly, without drawing attention?"
"Of course. That's the way to handle it. I'll report back the second I get a lead."
In the end, Officer Heo hadn't uncovered anything either. There were no moves from the central office, and if someone in Busan had pulled strings, it would've pinged his radar—but he'd been digging into this himself and come up empty. That left me with no way to unmask the force behind this incident.
Since our meeting yielded nothing on the puppet masters, I decided I needed an escape hatch for the future. To do that, I'd need Chief Kim's savvy political read. I called him and ran my idea by him.
Chief Kim was well aware this wasn't a natural progression. He knew exactly how much damage it could do if it boomeranged back at me someday, so he readily agreed to my plan.
No matter how familiar the path, walking through thick fog where you can't see ahead is foolish. There could be unseen rocks I'd overlooked, or pits that had opened up unnoticed. And if I was running instead of walking? Tripping over one would mean even graver injuries.
I dropped Officer Heo back at the agency and headed to the district office.
"Manager, got a minute?"
I greeted the on-duty staff as I entered, then brought the manager into my room.
"Prepare a press conference."
"A press conference?"
"Yeah. Today."
"About the other day?"
"Yep."
"If you step in now and pile on, those kids might... "
"That's exactly why."
"Assemblyman, no matter how pissed you are, you can't do that!"
The office manager suddenly raised his voice. I froze for a second, caught off guard, then realized he'd misunderstood my intent for the conference.
"Manager, not that. The opposite."
"Pardon?"
"There's no reason this situation benefits me. I don't get why the media and authorities are so in sync, hyping me up while demonizing those youths. And I'm worried this could turn into a noose around my neck later. So I'm laying out the full details and making sure no one's baiting me into a trap."
Once I finished, his face relaxed as understanding dawned, and he nodded. We set the press conference for 3 p.m. in the city council chamber and contacted all local outlets plus national reporters stationed in Busan.
Technically, 4 p.m. would've been smarter—reporters racing deadlines would've run with my statement and materials verbatim, no personal spin, and amp it up given the hot topic.
But this needed caution, so I gave them time to think for themselves, even if it meant rushing on my end.
With Chief Kim's help, we whipped up a press release and separate materials for reporters. The statement was brief, but the handouts had to detail facts meticulously—for non-attendees via email too. We bolded, underlined, but it wasn't enough to convey my points sharply, so unusually, we made them in color: red and blue highlights for emphasis. That's how seriously this weighed on me.
We headed to the city council's fourth-floor chamber with the on-duty staff. Even with ten minutes to go, the gravity of the issue had already packed the room with reporters.
As I entered, shutters clicked nonstop, flashes strobing, the room alive with the frenzy.
On schedule, I took the podium as staff handed out materials. The conference began.
"I hope this incident doesn't end up crushing the hopes of our nation's young people, no matter who's behind it or why." With that, I wrapped up, and reporters buzzed, eyes wide with confusion.
"Assemblyman Park, are you saying those youths, the main culprits, did nothing wrong?"
"Not that they did nothing wrong—I'm saying they're suffering disproportionate fallout, way beyond their actions, for whatever reason."
"Please elaborate."
"Simply put, what they did is like the everyday thug stuff at Hwangnyeongsan, Dalmaji Hill, or Eulsukdo—picking fights with couples. The only difference? Their target was me, a National Assembly member, and my wife, and the perps weren't street punks but kids from wealthy entrepreneur families. But somehow, it's being framed as terrorism, painting them as terrorists. If they were real terrorists, could I be standing here unscathed?"
"So you're saying they should be let off scot-free?"
"No. Even if it was youthful folly or a mistake, they broke social norms and deserve punishment by law—exactly as the law prescribes, no more."
In the Q&A, I got out everything I needed to say. If anyone tried looping this noose around me later, today's conference proved it wasn't my intent. Whatever twists came after, I'd fulfilled my moral duty—no fatal blow to my position.
With the incident hashed out, questions shifted to my relationship with Ara, why I'd scooped her up in the street sparking this mess. Ara's name hit the headlines again.
Post-conference, reporters who'd filed their stories swarmed after me. They still had curiosities to sate, and it wasn't hurting me, so I led them to a makgeolli joint by the city hall back gate for an early evening party.
'Jeon,' a makgeolli spot and eatery specializing in green onion pancakes, filled with reporters. Their not-so-subtle pressure meant calling in Ara, who'd taken the day off to spend with me.
"Hello, I'm Seo Ara."
"Whoa, she's a beauty."
Ara opened the door, stood by me, bowed to the reporters, who cheered. Blushing a bit but poised, she sat demurely beside me.
"Ma'am, why'd you fight that day?"
I bristled, guessing the reporter's angle, but since it wasn't a fight, I played it cool, waiting for Ara's reply.
"Pfft, fight? We don't have time for that. Not even time to love."
"Then why?"
"You probably don't know, but we're a weekend couple. Even when my honey's in Busan, he's busy meeting people—no date time. We were just stealing a quick kiss when weirdos showed up and ruined it."
Ara turned the question into a joke and fired back playfully. Damn, my smart wife, I nearly blurted. The reporter, who'd hoped for a marital spat scoop, looked sheepish and backed off. A national paper's Busan correspondent jumped in with a grin.
"Make up for that missed affection right here—a kiss like you said, ma'am?"
Reporters clapped, whistled, chanted "Kiss! Kiss!" and banged tables. As I stood to shush them, flustered, Ara suddenly spoke up.