A Gate Opened On My First Day As A Politician - Chapter 27: A Nuclear-Level Incident (2)

“When are you getting the cast off?”

“Hmm?”

Yeo Do-yeon, sprawled on the couch, lazily turned her gaze from the TV while munching on potato chips. She flapped her cast-covered right arm.

“It’s already healed.”

“…Then why are you still bandaged?”

The thought of her arm from that day during the Shinbundang Line escape still sends chills down my spine. Her right arm had been twisted backward, dangling by tendons after being bitten by a monster.

After a brief silence, she replied.

“…I mean, it’s weird that something that mangled healed after just one spell, right?”

“…I suppose.”

“It’s just…”

As usual, she brushed it off with a nonchalant laugh.

“Just trying to act normal, you know.”

She looked a little sad.

“Sis, come with me somewhere.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! It’s been a while since we, as siblings, went for a nice walk together! Why so difficult?”

Without even looking at me, she raised her middle finger and responded in a husky, cold voice.

“I walked for three days and nights on that damn Shinbundang Line, you idiot.”

“By the way, aren’t you technically my assistant? An Assemblyman is asking you to go, and you keep refusing.”

“I quit. Have a nice day.”

Crunch. She stayed slouched on the couch, chomping on her potato chips. Look at her, gorging on sodium after quitting her workouts.

“You’re really getting plump, huh?”

She deflected the jab with a dismissive smirk, clearly aware of her own fitness. While she had lost some muscle, her overall condition was still excellent.

She sighed with annoyance before speaking.

“Ugh, you’re like an idol. An idol, seriously…”

“What?”

“Didn’t you see people swarming around you yesterday when we went shopping for ingredients for mushroom stew? Are you a member of BTS or something?”

“Well, I do look pretty good, I guess…”

I brushed it off as a joke, but it was true. The world’s attention was firmly fixed on Han Seung-Moon.

In times of chaos, people seek heroes and villains.

I had managed to become both.

For days, I was the national scapegoat—the incompetent politician who caused trouble at the disaster site.

Then, after leading the miraculous Apgujeong Escape, with every moment broadcast by Gam Ji-yoon, I became a national hero.

Given that politicians thrive on public recognition—good or bad—I was now enjoying the peak of my career.

Do-yeon, seemingly done with her usual sharp remarks, reluctantly stood up and asked.

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Hiking.”

“Then I guess I’m good to go like this.”

She stretched as she got up, her disheveled hair resembling a lion’s mane as it shook.

I clicked my tongue.

“Seriously? You’re going hiking in shorts and a short-sleeved hoodie?”

“So what? It’s hot.”

“Put on a suit. A suit…”

She gave me a confused look.

“Hiking in a suit? Are you normal?”

“Just get in the car. We’ll be driving most of the way.”

“And where are we going, exactly, you little punk?”

“That’s classified.”

—

In the outskirts of Chungcheong Province, we arrived at a small mountain after traveling in a heavily tinted Equus.

The elderly driver carefully spoke up.

“We’ve arrived, sir.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Guards waiting outside the vehicle opened the door for us.

Do-yeon and I stepped out with stoic expressions. The fresh mountain air greeted us, but the soldiers nearby had stiff, grim faces.

Do-yeon quietly pulled the wheelchair from the trunk. Her usual intimidating blank expression was on display, though the slight downward curve of her left lip betrayed her tension.

The area was a military control zone. Signs with words like “Restricted Area,” “Warning,” and “7452 Unit” adorned the surroundings.

Pushing the wheelchair, she passed by the ominous signs without a word.

“Apologies, Assemblyman. Only you are permitted entry.”

A soldier blocked our path.

Something about this didn’t feel right.

“…I need someone to push my wheelchair.”

“If necessary, I can—”

I cut him off immediately.

“I don’t allow it.”

I pointed sternly and issued a firm warning.

“This person is my family, my official assistant, my bodyguard, and a frontline superpowered individual who fought during the Apgujeong Escape Operation.

Moreover, I require assistance due to my mobility issues, and she has clearance to access classified information as part of her duties.”

“Ah, well…”

“Is that sufficient explanation?”

The soldier hesitated, clearly caught in a dilemma of having no personal authority.

“She is pushing my wheelchair. Who are you to enter this classified area with me? If my assistant can’t enter, how can a mere soldier accompany me?”

“Ah, no, sir. The order was just to prohibit entry to anyone other than Assemblymen—”

“Is that an order or a law?”

I delivered this with the legal bravado of someone deeply versed in procedural arguments.

It wasn’t about throwing a tantrum or pulling rank. Something about the name “7452 Unit” and the soldiers here was triggering a sense of deja vu.

And now, a mere soldier was offering to accompany an Assemblyman into a restricted area.

Finally, someone higher up emerged. A man with three Mugunghwa flowers on his shoulder approached and saluted sharply.

“Sir. Apologies for the inconvenience. I’m Colonel Jang Seung-yeon. I will escort you to the designated location.”

For an officer, he seemed unusually young. He exuded the demeanor of a bureaucrat in uniform.

And then there was the unit designation: “7452 Unit.” I remembered hearing about it when Assemblyman Yang Pan-seok was on the Intelligence Committee.

Rumors suggested it was a nod to May 2nd, the date when Lee Hu-rak, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, crossed the DMZ for the 7.4 North-South Joint Statement.

Apparently, intelligence agencies occasionally used the designation to cover their tracks.

Also, military personnel don’t wear luxury watches. It’s a surefire way to draw ire from their superiors.

In short:

This was the NIS in military uniform.

And they were making it obvious.

—

“Oh, you’re here?”

“Was it supposed to be this difficult to get in?”

At the end of the path was a large villa. Yang Pan-seok stood at the entrance, greeting me.

“Did you meet Colonel Jang?”

“He’s not a soldier.”

“I figured you’d notice.”

He turned to Do-yeon with a warm smile.

“You’ve come too. It’s reassuring to have you here, thanks to you.”

“Ah, it’s been a while, Assemblyman Yang.”

“Don’t be shy now. There are a few chickens in the first-floor fridge; heat them up and eat to your heart’s content. I’ll be heading out to a clinic and somewhere else for a bit…”

Yeo Do-yeon glanced at me nervously, and I gave her a small nod.

She stayed on the first floor of the villa while we descended into the basement. The homey interior gave way to stark concrete as we ventured further down.

We walked for quite a while. The elderly Yang Pan-seok and I descended the stairs together, carefully supporting each other—a limping duo.

It reminded me of our escape from the National Assembly. Apparently, it brought back memories for him too.

“Feels like old times,” he remarked.

“It hasn’t even been a month,” I replied.

“Heh! Less than a month, and the world has gone to hell…”

The spiral staircase plunged deep below ground. Yang Pan-seok muttered softly.

“Seven from the Republican Party, five from the Democratic Party. Including us.”

“Only twelve escaped?” I asked.

“We don’t know. Others might have survived somewhere else.”

Of course, that wasn’t the main issue.

“…Where exactly were they all hiding?”

“They weren’t hiding,” Yang Pan-seok whispered in my ear.

“They were rescued before us.”

“!”

“…Captured by Cha Jae-kyun.”

—

“Well, here we are.”

“…It’s enormous.”

The underground National Assembly, classified as Top Secret Level 0, was impressively grand. A semi-circular arrangement of 300 seats commanded respect.

Though doubling as a bunker with a low ceiling and numerous pillars, the existence of such a facility underground was astonishing.

It was ironic that this massive auditorium would now host only twelve people.

Amid the rows of empty seats, a group of individuals sat in the front row. Yang Pan-seok announced our arrival with his usual warm tone.

“We’re here.”

“Hmm? Ah! Isn’t this Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon?”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Han Seung-Moon.”

The elderly gentlemen and ladies, huddled together and snacking on ginseng jelly, rose with effort to greet us. The average age of 55.5 years for this assembly still held its dignity.

I already knew who they were and what they did, so there was no need to memorize introductions. They were all familiar faces.

The atmosphere among the twelve was surprisingly congenial.

Contrary to the aggressive image often portrayed on TV, relationships between Assemblymen weren’t always hostile.

Of course, those “TV-worthy” individuals—party leaders or the “big three” (floor leader, secretary general, and policy committee chair)—frequently clashed due to their roles.

But regular Assemblymen often shook hands over banana milk at the Health Room (gym and sauna) in the National Assembly’s basement, even after heated debates in front of the cameras.

Among the twelve here, only three were “TV material.”

Four-term Assemblyman Yang Pan-seok, the Democratic Party’s veteran tactician.

First-term Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon, hailed as the Hero of Seoul.

And…

“I’m Won Ok-bun. Pleased to meet you.”

“I-it’s an honor to meet you, Assemblywoman Won.”

Somewhere between an aunt and a grandmother in appearance, this middle-aged woman extended her hand for a handshake, her face devoid of expression.

Yet, a 17-year political veteran doesn’t fail to smile without reason—her face had simply been damaged by a knife wound that severed nerves.

“I’ve heard about Apgujeong. You must’ve had a hard time, Assemblyman.”

“Oh, not at all.”

Her left eye bore a grotesque scar from a blade.

Her right eye, clouded and pale from years of monocular vision.

An eyeglass lens perched over her single good eye exuded a commanding charisma.

In 1990, during the Roh Tae-woo administration, she had been a prosecutor at the forefront of the so-called “War on Crime,” tearing apart organized gangs.

Five-term Republican Party Assemblywoman Won Ok-bun.

“We’ll get through these tough times together. I have high expectations of you, Assemblyman Han.”

“Thank you, Assemblywoman Won. Your words mean a lot.”

A true political heavyweight was among us.

—

No one stood at the speaker’s podium. Instead, we gathered around a round table, engaging in a free exchange of ideas.

Still, the unspoken leadership fell to Yang Pan-seok and Won Ok-bun.

Won Ok-bun regarded me with her cloudy single eye.

“Regarding the Monster Response Special Committee proposed by Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon, I’m highly supportive.”

Yang Pan-seok immediately chimed in to back me up.

“In a national crisis, being bogged down by procedures is unacceptable. Establishing a special committee to form a temporary extrajudicial body seems reasonable.”

“We’re also considering declaring the seats of missing Assemblymen vacant. What are your thoughts?”

The two powerhouses coordinated seamlessly, and the rest nodded in agreement. Just like that, the National Assembly went from 300 members to 12. That’s politics for you.

We tackled several issues.

The abundance of lawyers among us certainly sped things along. After all, Yang Pan-seok himself was a former judge.

Despite the absence of a Speaker and the collapse of the Judiciary Committee, our professional legal expertise allowed us to push forward with determination.

Under Yang Pan-seok’s leadership, the legal groundwork for the Han Seung-Moon Foundation was established.

Recognizing its public utility for monster extermination, we merely tweaked a few clauses in the foundation’s charter. Just like that, a “crime” became legal.

Next:

“Does anyone have thoughts on responding to monsters? Ah, yes, Assemblyman Han, please share.”

Here, I could contribute with my expertise.

“If we want to act decisively, we must prevent superpowered individuals from emigrating. If we want a softer approach, we should start by regulating mana stone trading. The latter is essential.”

“Mana stones?” someone asked.

“They’re gemstones extracted from monster corpses. Superpowered individuals grow stronger by absorbing them. If we designate mana stones as a strategic national resource, the government can control the domestic industry.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t corporations resist fiercely?”

“Once regulated, deregulation becomes a privilege rather than an expectation. If we delay, we may lose even that leverage.”

– Translation: The government can relax regulations later and score points with corporations.

Everyone except Won Ok-bun smiled at this.

I continued cautiously.

“Moreover, intact mana stones are more valuable than fragments. A proportional tax could be applied.”

Won Ok-bun nodded approvingly.

“Let’s do that. Any further suggestions?”

“Ah, regarding the use of force by superpowered individuals…”

We continued the discussion for quite some time. Everyone understood the importance of unity at this critical juncture, so there was little disagreement.

Finally, the most crucial issue emerged.

“…We can’t leave the position of acting President vacant forever.”