A Gate Opened On My First Day As A Politician - Chapter 2: I Lost My Job (2)

Candidate registration had been completed a while ago.

Since this was a Republican stronghold, no other party had even fielded a candidate here, leaving only the Republican and Democratic contenders.

Then, the Republican candidate got arrested for violating the Political Funds Act. And it happened right in the middle of the campaign.

The Democratic Party’s attack dogs would undoubtedly sink their teeth into this opportunity. This wasn’t about me personally—it was about the larger game. A Republican candidate taken down for campaign law violations during an election painted a favorable picture.

Now, I was the only candidate left.

—

If I hadn’t registered.

If I had only put down the 15 million won deposit and not actually campaigned.

If the Republican candidate hadn’t been arrested for violating the Political Funds Act.

If Representative Yang Pan-seok’s son-in-law weren’t in the prosecution.

If this weren’t Gyeongsangnam-do, and the Democratic Party hadn’t paid much attention here.

If the Democratic Party hadn’t provided concentrated support in the final stretch.

— “Yes! In Tongyeong-Goseong, the Democratic Party candidate Han Seung-Moon is currently confirmed elected with 61.2% of the vote!”

“Uwaaahhh!!”

“Han Seung-Moon! Han Seung-Moon!”

“We did it!”

Without all of these factors, I would never have earned the golden badge.

“Seung-Moon! You did it! You did it!”

“Uh, ah…”

“Hey! From now on, we have to call you Assemblyman! Really? Really?”

My uncle hugged me joyfully, my aunt collapsed to the floor sobbing, and Yeo Do-yeon ran over, grabbing me by the collar and grinning widely.

The Democratic Party’s campaign team placed a flower garland around my neck, supporters surged forward cheering, and excited party members showered me with confetti.

Journalists rushed over, microphones in hand, eager to cover the first young congressman in decades, the only Democratic congressman in Gyeongsangnam-do.

“Th-thank you! Thank you, everyone!”

If I hadn’t knocked, the door wouldn’t have opened.

But as in all things political, the word “if” was entirely meaningless.

—

“Ah, Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon.”

“Representative Yang!”

Yang Pan-seok warmly grasped my hand with a satisfied smile.

“I thought I’d just put your name on the ballot with a deposit. Turns out I ended up owing you a favor.”

“N-not at all! It’s all thanks to you, Representative!”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

He chuckled, visibly pleased, as he seated me in his office.

“I’m glad you got elected.”

“Thank you!”

“Enough with the thanks. Do you understand what this means?”

Whether I did or didn’t, it was best to pretend I didn’t. My guiding principle was that flaunting intelligence was useless. As his secretary, I’d always displayed deference.

Now was not the time for loyalty—it was time for wisdom.

A Democratic congressman in his twenties, disabled, and from Gyeongsangnam-do was significant.

“…Representative, you’ve opened a new path for the Democratic Party. You’ve injected young blood into the National Assembly, represented the rights of minorities, and shown a commitment to overcoming regional divides between Gyeongsangnam-do and Jeollanam-do—”

“Keep it short.”

“Congratulations on becoming the party leader, sir.”

“Yes, yes. Getting to the point is essential.”

He patted my shoulder and lowered his voice to murmur,

“I thought you’d just put down the deposit, but you staked your entire fortune. I was so impressed with your spirit that I casually mentioned it to my son-in-law…”

Yang Pan-seok’s son-in-law was a prosecutor.

“And he ended up with a big case on his hands.”

It was Yang Pan-seok who sent the Republican candidate packing on a violation of the Political Funds Act. It was Yang Pan-seok who made me a congressman. Whether it was a coincidence or not, or whether he was lying, didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he had said it to me.

I nodded silently, expression firm.

“Well.”

Yang Pan-seok patted my shoulder again and handed me a cup of barley tea.

“Drink up and relax a little. I never imagined I’d be working in the legislature alongside the guy who drove me around for years…”

“It’s an honor, Representative.”

“Ease up a little, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

This was the moment I became a trusted aide to a four-term Democratic heavyweight.

* * *

The truth is, while Yeo Do-yeon did sometimes win prize money in mixed martial arts competitions and had excellent physical attributes, she wasn’t particularly successful.

Management kept trying to get her to take her clothes off for matches, leading to constant friction with higher-ups.

She had also refused to fix matches, which was no small factor. In any case, there were a lot of complications behind the scenes.

I was 27. She was 28. While that might still be young, the Korean market prioritized looks and body over skill, so her age didn’t exactly appeal.

Yeo Do-yeon was skilled, but she wasn’t world-class, nor was she at the top domestically. She was decent, at best. She knew this, too, and pushed herself relentlessly to get better.

But no management would take on a fighter with a bad reputation in the industry.

My aunt had quietly asked me to look after her.

Being a lawyer at a major firm, she wasn’t thrilled about her daughter pursuing a career as a fighter. My aunt and Yeo Do-yeon had always had a strained relationship. That’s probably why she’d subtly asked for my help.

“Noona.”

“What, Assemblyman?”

Yeo Do-yeon and I were sitting across from each other in a gopchang restaurant. She grinned widely as she stuffed meat into her mouth. Normally, she wouldn’t eat like this, but she said she’d make an exception since it was a celebration for my election.

Maybe it was her way of hinting that she was doing something an athlete shouldn’t, but perhaps that was reading too much into it.

“Do you want to work in public service?”

She silently continued eating, paying attention to things she’d usually ignore for muscle building.

Occasionally, she’d frown with her fierce eyes or wrinkle her delicate features as she sighed heavily.

While I’d become accustomed to drinking excessively as part of my duties for Yang Pan-seok, Yeo Do-yeon had never touched alcohol.

Now, she picked up my soju bottle and downed it in one go.

Then, she slumped over the table. Her hair covered her face, but I could tell she nodded slightly.

She stayed there for a long time without saying a word.

One person had achieved their dream, while another had lost theirs.

* * *

Since I’d been a secretary, I knew very well how things operated in a legislator’s office.

Two fourth-grade aides, two fifth-grade aides, and five staffers below them, making a total of nine people.

The fourth and fifth grades were divided into chief of staff, political secretary, district office secretary, and policy secretary.

The five below them handled tasks like making coffee, driving, drafting policies, providing security, managing publicity, and handling drinking obligations.

I had been a seventh-grade personal secretary among the lower-ranked staff. Driving, sometimes transporting money discreetly—basically, whatever needed doing.

The important thing was that, as a member of the support staff, I was part of a tight-knit community with others in similar roles.

“Wow, unbelievable…”

“So, do we have to start calling you Assemblyman now?”

“Hyung! Can I come with you? My boss is driving me crazy…”

I had become something of a star overnight!

“Hey, give me a shoulder massage.”

“Trying to get caught up in a power harassment scandal, are we?”

“Leave him be. He’s a freshman assemblyman.”

Three colleagues I was close with. They weren’t fourth or fifth grade—just eighth- and ninth-grade support staff like me. We were sitting around, chatting in a tucked-away rest area in the National Assembly.

“Hyung! What’s it like now that you’ve been elected?”

“What do you mean?”

“We always used to complain about the chief of staff being a pain.”

“She can’t even look me in the eye now.”

“Ahahaha!”

Yang Il-ho burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. I called him Cheeky No. 1.

“Looks like you’re doing well for yourself. Congratulations.”

“You don’t seem too excited?”

“Well, my boss lost, so I’m out of a job, too. I even missed out on my civil servant pension. Sigh. Put up with all that harassment, only to end up unemployed.”

“Is this your way of asking me to take you with me?”

“I wasn’t saying that exactly…”

“Good luck.”

“Come on, oppa, don’t be like that.”

Lee Ho-jung shot me a pleading look, clutching my wrist. She’s Prickly No. 2.

“…Anyway, congratulations, hyung.”

“Your boss lost too, huh? You’re stranded, like an abandoned chick.”

“…Yeah.”

“Since our breadwinner here will be joining us, lighten up.”

“Thank you so much, hyung!”

“Honestly, you saw it coming, didn’t you?”

“…Hehe.”

Kang Seok-ho chuckled sheepishly, scratching his head. We’ll call him Quiet No. 3.

I simply called them One, Two, and Three. Their personalities fit, and they were solid, hardworking twenty-somethings. I decided to stay loyal to them.

“You know my sister who’s a fighter, right? She’ll join as a seventh-grade security and personal secretary.”

“Really?”

“For now, let’s have One and Two join as eighth and ninth grades.”

“Yes! Finally, no more internship!”

“Thanks, Assemblyman Han. I got promoted, I see.”

Seok-ho gulped nervously.

“Since Seok-ho’s got a family to feed, he’ll be sixth grade. That work for you?”

“Yes!”

“Come on, it’s no big deal among friends.”

One and Two wholeheartedly celebrated their friend’s promotion, and Three even shed a tear.

“…Thank you, Assemblyman.”

“The two fourth-grade aides and two fifth-grade aides will be selected from Yang’s people and my mom’s friends. It’s better not to pick people who already know me.”

Lee Ho-jung twirled her hair and mused,

“Still, it must be tough for those who’ll have to step aside.”

“If they didn’t want this, they should’ve acted better.”

“Ha! Well said.”

I’d made enough of a show in front of my friends.

* * *

“…Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, I’m thrilled.”

“Keep your head straight. Though, I guess you’d know more, given your experience working in the National Assembly.”

“I’ll be sure to listen to you, Attorney Byun.”

Attorney Byun So-jung had the unfortunate nickname of **Byunbyun** (“Mediocre”).

“Aunt, do you know anyone interested in becoming an aide?”

“Plenty. But most are hesitant about working with you.”

“Oh, come on…”

The reason was obvious.

A congressman elected by sheer luck, someone who might fade out after one term as a four-year contract politician. It wasn’t exactly appealing to abandon a stable career as a lawyer to take the gamble.

“I heard you staffed grades six through nine with friends.”

“Three friends and my sister.”

“You’re going to take heat for that…”

“Well, we need to live somehow. Without me, they’d be jobless.”

Byun So-jung, my aunt, and a current attorney at a major law firm, elegantly sipped her espresso and offered advice.

“You’re a sharp one, so I’m not too worried. Still, remember that people will criticize you even if you’re just smiling at your success.”

I smiled at my aunt.

“Can’t you just say you’re worried about me?”

“…Really, now.”

* * *

“Greetings, Representative Yang!”

“Ah, Assemblyman Han! There’s a certain charm to that title… Yang and Han. Like Oriental medicine.”

He seemed to be in a good mood, making a joke. I offered a natural smile. This kind of interaction had become routine.

“I miss being chauffeured by Han Seung-Moon.”

“I’m sorry to have left the post, sir.”

“Oh, nonsense!”

True to his habit of speaking indirectly, I guessed he meant that now I was no longer his secretary, I shouldn’t bow too low in public.

“Did you gather your staff?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t get too tangled up with familiar faces.”

“Wouldn’t people say I take good care of my people?”

“Ha. You’re already learning politics. I must have an eye for talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As we entered the National Assembly together, people flocked to greet Yang Pan-seok, and after saying hello, they also turned to congratulate me.

“Assemblyman Han, congratulations. You did a great job.”

“Oh, it was all thanks to the party’s help.”

“And how old are you again? Ah, 27. If you were a year younger, you’d have broken Kim Young-sam’s record.”

“Haha, I still have much to learn.”

“Assemblyman Han! We met during the campaign, didn’t we?”

“Hello, sir! Thank you so much for your support back then!”

The people surrounding Yang Pan-seok offered their greetings, then nodded to me as well. From high-profile politicians to opposition leaders.

My head was spinning. Was there another 20-something as successful as me in all of Korea?

My fingertips trembled at the thought of the rosy path ahead.

I was a truly lucky person.

“Kiiiieee!”

That is, until something dropped from the sky and killed one of the nearby assemblymen right after the oath.