Chapter 201
He grasped the cane leaning against one side of the table. Planting it firmly on the ground and leaning on his hand, he rose to his feet. Kang Siljang steadied him.
"Cha Byeon. Shall we take a walk?"
"Yes."
Kang Gwanung told Kang Siljang to step away for a moment, then walked slowly with me through the beautifully landscaped garden.
"When I first became president, I wanted to stand up for the workers who had been sacrificed in the name of rapid economic growth. When I was labeled the first president directly elected by the people who had successfully achieved democratization, it only strengthened my resolve. Our country had become wealthy, but the people hadn't—and that broke my heart. Wasn't it the people's way of saying they wanted me to fix that?"
He spoke slowly, his voice heavy with regret.
The 1980s were when labor disputes truly erupted. In today's Korean society, the word "labor" has taken on a somewhat politicized tinge, but he meant it literally: laborers, the very people who make up the bulk of the economically active population. It was only natural that those who had sacrificed for national growth would seek their reward once it was achieved. Even now, weren't there constant complaints that our minimum wage lagged behind other OECD countries?
I could guess why Kang Gwanung had brought up labor. His presidency came after Korea's major conglomerates had taken root, following their initial rise. His predecessors had toiled to rebuild a war-ravaged nation; his task was to reclaim the ethics obscured by grand ideals. That's why he immersed himself in human rights. In fact, many of his books delved into labor law.
But those efforts painted him as shortsighted. Vowing to improve individual lives now that economic growth was secured came across as complacent, a sign of settling for Korea's current level. Attacks poured in, branding the nation's leader as myopic.
"The frame that I cared nothing for national growth and chased pipe dreams alone? That came from Go Sangjun's father, Go Geunhyeong. People assume it was the opposition party back then, but he was the one who first floated the idea. Of course, the opposition ran with it."
The opposition during his term was the precursor to today's Minwoo Party, the Daehan Justice Party. Kang Gwanung's first order of business as president was to unearth chaebol corruption. Top executives shuttled in and out of the prosecutors' office. That was when the showmanship began: wheelchair-bound figures draped in knee blankets, coughing dramatically as they entered. Countless investigations followed, and several bloated conglomerates saw their affiliates torn apart.
As labor laws grew more detailed, guaranteeing workers' rights, the financial hit to the chaebols was inevitable. Go Geunhyeong, founder of Wooshin Group, must have seen himself as a victim.
"A mere five-year term flies by. During my presidency, I grew addicted to the war with them. It was painful watching my former students—those who once called me mentor—turn into monsters in the political arena. A world where you had to tear into old friends and disciples just to survive felt no different from a jungle. So after stepping down, I wanted to fade from the spotlight. I chose a quiet life."
The Kang Gwanung beside me now seemed to have regressed to his days in office, young and vigorous. I had been a student then, so I didn't remember the social atmosphere in detail—only the later evaluations of him. They left such an impression that I could still recall a snippet of his inauguration speech.
"My only goal was one thing: to raise my one grandson properly, so he could live as a decent human being."
He said it as he settled into a rocking chair at the edge of the garden.
"I'd forgotten many of my ideals by then. And those old comrades who'd savaged me started forgetting they'd dismissed me as a fool. Before long, they were calling me the father of Korea's Civil Code. Haha. Once I shed all political color after leaving office, they figured I wasn't a threat anymore and treated me like a human again."
"I learned civil law from the books you wrote, sir. But I doubt that's the only reason."
"Is that so? Nice to hear, even if it's flattery."
It was true I flattered him more than usual, but not this time. Even now, politics and the legal world were full of people who'd studied law from his books. Becoming president was tantamount to leading the ruling party. No matter how apolitical he'd become post-term, his past affiliations remained. Yet his texts were still widely used—that spoke to his expertise.
"I had big dreams in my youth, too. Sometimes, I bent my own principles to chase them. I became president that way, but facing death now, I realize I achieved nothing."
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and continued matter-of-factly.
"Seeing you reminds me of my younger self—or rather, what if I'd been like you back then, fumbling without a clear path? It makes me envious."
I didn't reply. I'd once fallen into the same nihilism he described, right before death. Rage had overshadowed despair back then, so I rarely dwelled on it now. I'd deemed myself a failure, vowing even as a ghost to haunt Go Sangjun's shoulders. If reborn, I could revenge more efficiently. And here I was, living my second life.
No one knew, but there was no reason for Kang Gwanung to envy me. I had life's answer sheet—or rather, its error log.
"What if I'd been like you in my youth? I was above average, sure. But fewer mistakes would have been nice. And if I'd thought rationally always, without emotions clouding judgment, I'd be more content now. One more thing."
"What was it, sir?"
"What if I'd had an ally with real power?"
He let out a long sigh.
"In countless crises, I fought alone, isolated. Sometimes I clawed to survive for my goals; other times, I nearly quit. I had helpers, of course—but none with power."
Kang Gwanung looked up at me steadily from his side.
"Do you grasp how much I'm investing in you? Can you live up to it?"
His softened gaze had sharpened again. I hesitated.
I knew the answer that would satisfy him. But in that moment, lying felt wrong.
"What if, in your youth when you needed an ally, someone had said, 'You can't fail; you must meet my expectations,' and offered power on those terms? How would you have felt?"
"Haha, touché."
"But sir, I'll do everything in my power not to fail. And when I'm your age, I'll ensure the path I've taken leaves me unashamed."
This was a creed I'd upheld regardless of who stood before me. I couldn't guarantee every action aligned perfectly with justice— the concept itself was relative and fluid. And rigid righteousness alone couldn't topple Wooshin. Still, I'd choose what I saw as the best way. That's why I needed Kang Gwanung.
"I've heard enough. I understand your thinking."
"Thank you."
Just then, Kang Siljang, who had stepped away, approached.
"Sir, I know you're enjoying your talk with Cha Byeon, but it's time for dinner."
We'd delayed the meal waiting for someone. Had they arrived?
"Got it. I'll head in soon—get things ready."
"Yes, sir."
Kang Siljang withdrew again, and Kang Gwanung gripped his cane against the tree. I moved to assist, but he refused as before. As we headed inside together, he suddenly spoke.
"By the way, Cha Byeon."
"Yes."
"About our Minjae."
"Yes."
"What do you think? Useful fellow?"
His expression was genuinely curious. I'd sensed his deep affection for Kang Minjae many times. For his grandson to bolt from the job he'd arranged for one he truly wanted— it was natural to wonder.
"Very useful."
"Oh?"
"Sharp as a tack. Great empathy, good personality. Enviable, even."
"True, the kid's got more heart than you, Cha Byeon. Heh."
Kang Gwanung beamed, pleased.
"That's why he's irreplaceable in my plans—can't add or subtract him lightly."
Kang Gwanung eyed me briefly, then slipped off his shoes at the entrance and replied.
"Do as you wish with that. As I said, my support for you has nothing to do with Minjae—even if he ends up under you."
We walked to the dining room in silence after that. Now I wondered who the other guest was. A pair of dress shoes by the entrance earlier suggested they were waiting inside.
"……."
The door opened, and as Kang Gwanung entered, the man at the table stood, pulling back his chair.
"Teacher, it was a hot day—you took quite the long stroll."
He greeted Kang Gwanung warmly. The voice was incredibly familiar. A face flashed in my mind, but it couldn't be him. Yet the voice matched, and even the build and hairstyle I'd glimpsed fit.
He turned from Kang Gwanung toward me.
"Seeing you around a lot lately, Cha Byeon."
I nearly gaped. The face staring back was exactly who I'd pictured: Park Younggi, deputy chief of the Western District Prosecutors' Office.