A Gate Opened On My First Day As A Politician - Chapter 36: North Wind (7)

[Flashback]

The moment Pi Chae-won detected the National Intelligence Service, and Gam Chul urgently urged us to flee.

“Wait a moment.”

“There’s no time for this! We need to get out before they break in…!”

“No, just hold on…”

Pi Chae-won was certain the National Intelligence Service (NIS) was nearby.
This meant they had detected us and begun tracking.

There was no way to escape.

Gam Chul seemed to think differently, shouting urgently.

“We’ll head into the city! They won’t risk killing us in the middle of a crowd!”

“Let’s at least have some insurance before we’re caught.”

Ignoring Gam Chul’s urging, I picked out the critical evidence from the biological experiment documents and handed them to Yeo Do-yeon.

“…What are you doing?”

“Take this and get it to Assemblyman Yang Pan-seok.”

“What?”

The situation was spiraling further into chaos. The most important thing had to be protected first.

“…Are you telling me to run on my own? Are you crazy?”

“You’ve consumed plenty of mana stones from the Shinbundang Line, right? I know you can outrun a car, so just escape.”

“And you think I’ll actually do that?”

“If you deliver this to Assemblyman Yang Pan-seok, he’ll take care of the rest. Having dirt on Cha Jae-kyun is more effective than sticking by me to protect me. This is safer.”

“…”

“Impeachment requires evidence.”

With the mana stones she absorbed on the Shinbundang Line, she’d escape just fine. I handed her the brown envelope and sent her off to Yang Pan-seok.

…To protect what mattered most.

Of course, I didn’t know that an experimental subject would be on the fourth floor of Homeplus or that I’d get captured by NIS agents disguised as police right after the sniper attack.

—

Anyway, I made Gam Chul’s novel a bestseller.

“This disaster isn’t North Korea’s doing—it’s the result of biological experiments conducted by Vice Minister Cha Jae-kyun.”

It didn’t just sell well—it would burn. A wildfire carried by cameras, engulfing the nation.

“The military faction under Cha Jae-kyun conducted human experimentation to create a legion of Awakeners.”

The entire country was on fire.

Now, it was time to summon the southeastern wind.

“And this ‘Cha Jae-kyun faction’ ordered me to incite the public by claiming this disaster was caused by North Korea’s terrorism.”

The “Cha Jae-kyun faction.”

First, I used the ‘linked chain strategy’ in reverse. I warned that siding with Cha Jae-kyun would result in being reduced to ashes alongside him. By emphasizing the collective, I signaled for people to avoid associating with him.

The game of division had begun.

This was framing at its finest.

“The experimental subjects, who were turned into monsters during Cha Jae-kyun’s biological experiments, escaped, leading to the current disaster.”

I had thought of Cha Jae-kyun as a tough individual.

But that wasn’t it.

“…The Cha Jae-kyun faction attempted to create a secret organization of Awakeners by forcibly awakening ordinary people and brainwashing them.

However, their experiments only turned humans into monsters, and the escape of those subjects caused this catastrophe.”

He wasn’t someone who considered others’ emotions. He simply made the most rational and objective decisions over and over again.

That was the core of this move.

He had seized control of the situation from the beginning, placing the National Assembly, the NIS, the government, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff under his influence.

Perhaps it was the mindset of a soldier—command and obedience. But from a political perspective, it was a highly dangerous act.

You could use him, but you could never control him.

To put it crudely, Cha Jae-kyun didn’t bother appeasing the old guard.

And this country…

It was theirs.

—

In the most critical situations, one must try to understand the other side.

So, I considered the perspectives of others.

First, the perspective of the National Assembly.

Assemblymen live to survive. The next election, factional purges during nominations, and the chaotic prosecutorial sword dances with every regime change—they fight for survival every moment.

Herein lay the first reason the National Assembly would help me: ‘survival’.

Cha Jae-kyun detained politicians to prevent them from making foolish mistakes.

Perhaps it was the right call.

“Why hasn’t the military reclaimed Seoul yet?”
“We must declare war on North Korea!”
“Implement swift measures now!”
“Resign!”
“I don’t care! Just resign!”

I could already envision the chaos they would cause on camera. During the early stages of the disaster, the military had exercised unchecked power because the politicians weren’t there to oppose them.

But his mistake was making them feel their ‘lives were in danger’.

And they weren’t the type to let a threat survive.

Now for the second reason.

Assemblymen are ‘elected officials’.

In a democracy, their power comes from the claim that they act on behalf of the “people.”

We are representatives of the people.

But is the current National Assembly truly a representative of the people?

Out of 300 members, only 12 remained. And now, with Won Ok-bun gone, there were only 11.

Inevitably, the National Assembly could only act by manipulating public opinion.

In other words, if you move public opinion, you move the Assembly.

“I hereby request the National Assembly to initiate impeachment proceedings and propose a dismissal motion against Cha Jae-kyun.”

I set fire to public opinion.

In a time when the 11-member Assembly was already being ridiculed, failing to uphold the basics of representative democracy would destroy its legitimacy entirely.

This allowed me to push forward the critical impeachment proceedings.

The evidence delivered through Yeo Do-yeon would be well-received by Yang Pan-seok. As long as he didn’t betray me, we could immediately suspend Cha Jae-kyun’s command authority.

This was ‘impeachment’.

The real problem came afterward.

A dismissal motion—essentially asking the president to remove Cha Jae-kyun.

Now, let’s consider the government’s perspective.

The government had been in a near honeymoon relationship with Cha Jae-kyun. Won Ok-bun herself had become Acting President with his tacit approval.

However, there was a clear reason for the government to act against him.

Why?

Cha Jae-kyun had sought excessive power to ensure his strategies weren’t hindered by the greed of the entrenched elite.

It was a defensive power grab. At least, assuming Cha Jae-kyun hadn’t lied to me.

The problem was that, to others, it didn’t look much different from a power grab.
And in politics, appearances are everything.

Even Won Ok-bun, the acting president with half the authority of a real one, must have felt threatened by him.

Given the right opportunity, the government would willingly cooperate in bringing Cha Jae-kyun down.

The biggest obstacle, however, was that Won Ok-bun had been indirectly involved in covering up the aftermath of these human experiments.

“Cha Jae-kyun deceived the Won Ok-bun administration in an attempt to conceal this incident.”

That was a problem I could solve.

“This is a clear act of treason. I expect Acting President Won Ok-bun to demonstrate swift and decisive leadership in response to the impeachment resolution submitted by the National Assembly.”

Please, Ok-bun. Just get rid of this bastard.

Good.

With the impeachment resolution, we’d suspend Cha Jae-kyun’s authority as Acting Minister of National Defense.

With the dismissal motion, we’d give Won Ok-bun the pretext to act.

And if the acting president dismissed Cha Jae-kyun from his position as a cabinet member, he’d effectively become a civilian.

This was where the real battle would begin.

Cha Jae-kyun, stripped of his legal authority, would still try to mobilize the military.

Issuing commands without legal grounds—this was nothing less than a private militia and a military rebellion.

To prepare for that possibility, I’d send a strong message to the military.

“Cha Jae-kyun bypassed Acting President Won Ok-bun and abused his command over the military. The Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Ground Operations Command, the Martial Law Command, and all the corps were deceived by a mere appointed official.”

“I only go after one target.”

I was telling them to play it smart—they’d be forgiven if they handled this carefully.

With Won Ok-bun, the top enforcer of the judiciary, now firmly in control, the media wouldn’t dare to open their mouths recklessly.

In other words, my words would become the facts.

Of course, media control would eventually be handed back to Won Ok-bun.

But she was, after all, an elected official. And unless she was a complete fool, it was clear that bringing Cha Jae-kyun down would be the better move.

We were beasts bound by approval ratings.

…I’d done everything humanly possible.

Politics had no fixed formulas, and there was no guarantee that the “likely” outcomes I anticipated would actually occur.

A nuclear bomb could suddenly drop on Seoul. A gate could go berserk and unleash a torrent of monsters.

Cha Jae-kyun might seize Busan in an instant and devour the nation, or Yang Pan-seok might have been on his side all along.

Who could predict the future?

I acted based on what I believed to be possible, but someone else might think differently. Well, that’s politics for you.

I closed my eyes and recalled a quote from Zhuge Liang:

“Do your best and leave the rest to fate.”

—

The whole nation was ablaze.

The southeastern wind began to blow.

The firestorm was heading toward the Martial Law Command in Gangbuk.

The National Assembly, the government, the military, and the NIS—
The shifting tides of power, the stakes of each faction, and the outcry of public opinion all surged to cut off Cha Jae-kyun’s lifeline.

Or rather, I made it that way.

Whether they rode the tailwind or pushed through the headwind was up to them. No one knew who would burn.

Politics had always been like a firestorm. You never knew who would burn first. All I could do now was calmly wait for the results.

It was over.

“…That concludes my hope for eternal glory for the free and just Republic of Korea and its people.”

The speech, a spark to ignite the fire that would consume the nation, lasted barely a minute and a half.

The shorter the political message, the more it lingers in people’s minds.

I stepped off the podium and bowed deeply. I held the bow for a long time—a gesture of mourning.

…A storm of blood would follow.

Hunters would rebel against the state that had abandoned them. The NIS would erupt into internal disputes over blame and honor.

In the worst-case scenario, a civil war might break out between the Martial Law Command in Gangbuk and the temporary Joint Command in Busan.

However, the victor was already decided.

The backbone of any supply chain was the rear. And in this day and age, soldiers wouldn’t fire on their own comrades.

In truth, Cha Jae-kyun was already finished. In a democratic society, a powerholder who loses the support of the people is already done.

This battle was already mine.

Cha Jae-kyun would fall. Blood might flow, but the unconvincing morality had won, and the alternative tyranny was choked out.

And I, too, would soon die.

Cha Jae-kyun wasn’t one to hesitate.

With a detached expression, I limped back to the car I had arrived in. At least I hadn’t been sniped during the speech.

I let out a hollow laugh.

Sure, I could’ve stayed to answer questions from the reporters, killed time in a nearby café, or waited for things to calm down. But I didn’t want to be dragged in front of the public.

Sure, it might have made for better media play. But honestly, why bother being so meticulous? I’d done enough.

The soldier who had escorted me was frozen, failing even to open the car door. Fair enough—I had just dropped a pretty big bombshell.

Reporters chased after me, but I offered only a bitter smile and silence. The soldiers scrambled to shoo them away.

I was exhausted.

Leaning back into the leather seat, I closed my eyes.

The car slowly began to move.

I chuckled quietly.

Perhaps this car was heading to some desolate cliff where I’d be disposed of. But at this point, I didn’t even feel afraid.

“What riches and glory was I chasing anyway…”

Even in the back seat, I instinctively fastened my seatbelt. I’d once survived thanks to a seatbelt, and now it was a habit.

As the scenery flashed by, my thoughts wandered.

Had I caused more deaths than Cha Jae-kyun?

Is a person’s conscience worth defending, even at such a cost?

Would my sister be safe?

I’d planned to go fishing with Yang Pan-seok tomorrow, but now I couldn’t.

What would become of Earth’s fate?

Sweet and sour pork tastes best when poured over with sauce—why doesn’t my sister understand that?

What defines tyranny?

What does it feel like to take a bullet to the head?

Is a nation that survives on the blood of innocents worth preserving?

Am I being overly moralistic?

I missed lunch. I’m starving.

Was I simply afraid of ‘enduring’ the sacrifice of the few for the greater good?

I gazed out the window, lost in melancholy thoughts for quite a while.

Then, I suddenly realized this car wasn’t heading toward the Martial Law Command.

Was I really destined to be buried in some desolate mountain?

Sullen, I asked the driver.

Something felt strange. Why was there only one driver? Should I try choking him from behind?

“…Excuse me, we’re not heading to the Martial Law Comman—”

Hmm. I stopped mid-sentence, frowning.

The driver was steering the car with only his right hand.

Considering I was a survivor of a traffic accident, a former driver for assembly members, and someone who didn’t feel the need to censor myself in this situation, I spoke up.

“You know, it’s not my place to say, but maybe you should steer with both hands?”

“I don’t have a left hand.”

“Oh, I’m sorr—…what?”

The driver was one-armed.

And his voice sounded oddly familiar.

“Hi?”

His Korean name was Kim Chun-sik, but his English name was David Kim. His appearance screamed “foreigner,” but his manner of speech was downright insolent. The guild leader.

David Kim grinned at me through the rearview mirror.

I stared blankly at him, unable to process what was happening.

David Kim burst into laughter, turned around slightly, and widened his one remaining eye for dramatic effect.

“Boo!”

—

“…You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Were you gazing at the last leaf or something? What’s with that tragic expression?”

“Ahh!”

My face burned with embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from twitching upward. I managed to crack a weird smile.

“Wow, seriously…how the hell did you…”

“Sun-ah had a speakerphone in her pocket, remember? From the moment you met her.”

“…What?”

“Didn’t you suddenly decide to use her for something secretive? The world’s a dangerous place, you know. I just wanted to know what you had planned for her.”

Well, this was unexpected.

“That’s eavesdrop—”

“Anyway, thanks to that, I was aware of your situation until just before Sun-ah got captured. Afterward, we lost contact, but we acted accordingly. Got it?”

“…I owe you my life. Thank you.”

David Kim drove the car away from the Martial Law Command and toward Gangwon Province.

Some time passed, and we arrived at a coastal cliff overlooking the East Sea.

Two other vehicles and a soldier were waiting there.

As I stepped out of the car, my tense body finally relaxed, causing me to stumble slightly. The sea breeze felt unusually sweet today.

‘Whistle!’ David Kim lit a cigarette and called out to me.

“How does it feel to cheat death?”

Just as I was about to respond, a sharp, unfamiliar voice cut in.

“Is that how you address an assemblyman? Put out that cigarette now!”

A sharply dressed two-star general snatched the cigarette from David Kim’s mouth and threw it to the ground.

David Kim raised an eyebrow in annoyance and introduced him to me.

“Ah, this is, uh…what’s ‘uncle’ in English again?”

“Uncle.”

“This is Major General Kim Doo-sik, my dad’s younger brother.”

Kim Chun-sik’s uncle, Kim Doo-sik, approached me with a salute.

“Loyalty. I’m Major General Kim Doo-sik, Chief of Staff for the 2nd Operational Command. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon.”

His tone was dry, though he seemed more human than Cha Jae-kyun. But in terms of expression, he was even more stoic than Cha Jae-kyun.

For some reason, thinking about Cha Jae-kyun made me feel uneasy.

So, this was the 2nd Operational Command, which oversaw the South Korean military south of Chungcheong Province.

When he removed his cap, a perfectly bald head was revealed—much cleaner than Yang Pan-seok’s patchy baldness.

Holding his cap against his chest, Major General Kim Doo-sik extended a hand for a handshake.

Then, politely, he said:

“That brat’s spent too much time overseas, so he’s quite rude. My apologies.”

“Oh, not at all. Thanks to David, I’ve survived twice now.”

“I appreciate your understanding. Please follow me. We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

He helped me toward a waiting vehicle.

‘Crunch!’

David Kim casually flung the car we had arrived in over the cliff with one hand.

‘Splash!’ The car flew far out into the sea, causing a towering splash.

Kim Doo-sik frowned deeply, clicking his tongue as he watched David Kim dust his hands on his pants.

“That was built with taxpayers’ money, you know.”

“Well, it’s not from ‘my’ country’s taxes.”

“Goddamn foreigners…”

“Woo!”

Kim Doo-sik even held the door open for me to make it easier to board.

With exaggerated politeness, he gestured to my seat.

“Please, step in.”

It was the trunk.

“…”

Blink. Blink. His expression was so serious I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

I stared at him in disbelief.

David Kim chuckled and opened the trunk of the other car.

‘Creak!’

“Roar!”

Hong Sun-ah was inside.

Without a word, I climbed into the trunk.

—

To pass the time in the trunk, Kim Doo-sik had handed me a phone with a farming simulation game. After playing it for about four hours, I heard a knock.

‘Knock, knock.’

I froze, holding my breath, thinking it might be a checkpoint.

The trunk opened.

“…You can come out now.”

“Oh, yes…”

Kim Doo-sik pulled me out with a stoic expression.

We were at some rest area. Shaking my head, I tried to clear the stiffness from my body and mind.

Major General Kim Doo-sik spoke gravely.

“I have two pieces of good news. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Uh, oh, um…the good news?”

“With my rank, I pushed through all the checkpoints. Sometimes it’s great having a paper-tiger military.”

Why are all the middle-aged men around me so strange?

“…And the other good news?”

“Cha Jae-kyun committed suicide.” (T/N: Damn!)