A Gate Opened On My First Day As A Politician - Chapter 40

8 a.m.
A sunlit mountain valley sparkled with snowflakes. The white lakeshore, softly blanketed with morning mist, was alive with the sound of birds whose names I didn’t know, filling me with a refreshing sense of calm. Though the world was still dim, the rising sun beyond the mountains made everything feel rejuvenated.

Amid this picturesque scene, something that seemed straight out of a Chinese movie, an old man sat by the edge of the lake.

He was wearing a North Face White Label Delton Jacket in black and a Kia Tigers baseball cap.

Even though Yang Pan-seok didn’t care much for baseball, he often pretended to be a fan since the Kia Tigers were based in Gwangju, a way to manage his constituency.

Sensing my presence, he turned his head and lowered his mask. Yang Pan-seok greeted me with a bright smile, his breath visible in the cold air.

“You’re here?”

“Good morning, Assemblyman.”

“I would’ve liked to try the open seas off Busan, but, well, I value my life too much…”

Even the seas weren’t safe, with monsters lurking everywhere.

Despite exchanging these lighthearted pleasantries, the atmosphere felt far from comfortable. He had insisted I come alone, without any aides.

In other words, this wasn’t really about fishing.

There was something secretive he wanted to discuss, and so, in this secluded mountain valley, it was just the two of us.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Yang Pan-seok muttered, “They’re late. I knew this would happen.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, nothing.”

He gestured for me to sit, flashing a smile with his eyes.

“It’s been a while. Let’s have a little chat.”

—

“The world is in chaos, yet oddly, the political scene is quite peaceful. The National Assembly, the government, the prosecution, the ruling and opposition parties—all working together like never before. Isn’t it wonderful?”

I sipped from a paper cup filled with warm instant coffee.

“…It’s unsettling, to be honest. They don’t care about dealing with the monsters and are just playing territorial games with reconstruction projects in Seoul. It’s risky when people start gambling with money they don’t actually have.”

“They’re controlling the media, so there’s no backlash. No critics means no risk. Besides, they’re playing their games in a way that doesn’t really harm us, right?”

“I don’t think that’s the line they should be careful about crossing…”

“In times like this, is there even a line? Let’s just focus on our own survival instead of making unnecessary enemies—”

“‘Achoo!'”

“…”

“Ah, sorry about that. Just a cold…”

I laughed awkwardly and cast my fishing rod. The float bobbed gently on the surface of the lake. I turned to Yang Pan-seok.

“When’s the next election?”

By law, the presidential election had to take place within 60 days, proportional representation candidates had to be filled immediately, and the by-election for National Assembly members was scheduled for April next year.

“They’ve agreed to maintain the current system for now, considering the citizens trapped in Seoul can’t vote and we can’t even confirm the status of many Assembly members.”

In short, screw the law—we’ll just keep holding the reins of power.

“Hmm. I expected as much. But will the public accept that—oh, wait. That’s the next task, isn’t it?”

With the political factions united, there were countless ways to make the public “accept” the situation.

For starters, they could invoke the magic of statistics, a long-standing tradition of Korean media. Announce that Acting President Won Ok-bun’s approval rating was at an all-time high, and people would naturally jump on the bandwagon. That’s just how psychology worked.

Or they could pick an already weakened conglomerate, label them as the “axis of evil,” and publicly tear them down. The “abuse scandal” narrative always sold well.

They could even scapegoat the election commission (which was nominally overseen by the Supreme Court Chief Justice) and have it bear the brunt of criticism, pushing it to finalize their agenda.

Or, they could stage a fake fight between the ruling and opposition parties, then theatrically reconcile.

The methods were endless.

“…When power consolidates, as long as there’s creativity, there’s almost nothing you can’t do.”

“That’s exactly why we’ve been fighting tooth and nail to seize power all these years, isn’t it?”

Though most of our rivals were now gone, it was undeniable that we had capitalized on the power vacuum and secured our place at the top of the pyramid.

Yang Pan-seok laid out his vision.

“From now on, we should work with capable, like-minded individuals to shape a grand strategy.”

Essentially, he was talking about managing the quality of the leadership. Making sure no newcomers displace the entrenched elite. Carefully handpicking who gets to rise within the pyramid to maintain the status quo.

I gave him a flat, unimpressed look, to which he responded with an awkward laugh.

“Did I sound a bit too old-fashioned?”

“Yes, a bit… oligarchic.”

“Goodness. Ever since you got that badge, your words to this old man have grown sharp. Maybe I should die before I suffer more insults…”

“Oh, please, Assemblyman! I’m sorry!”

Yang Pan-seok chuckled softly as he held onto his fishing rod. His calm voice echoed along the serene lakeshore.

“…You know, back in the day, I was a democrat to my core.”

Yang Pan-seok was a former activist. He had led squads of fighters during his youth, later becoming a late-blooming judge who spearheaded several judicial revolts.

But now, all those experiences, like his words, were in the past tense.

He was just a 13-year political veteran.

“It wasn’t about ideology. My uncle was dragged to Samcheong Re-education Camp and beaten to death. That’s what set me on this path.”

Yang Pan-seok began recounting modern history.

“I did all kinds of things to topple the dictatorship, but when Yang Kim factions tore each other apart, letting Roh Tae-woo win… how do you think I felt?”

The 13th presidential election. The split among pro-democracy forces that led to the military regime’s victory.

“When YS betrayed DJ and shook hands with JP and Roh Tae-woo, what do you think I thought? Well, at least that move led to the purge of Hanahoe, so there’s that.”

The three-party merger. Kim Young-sam’s betrayal, or his masterstroke.

“And when DJ forgave and pardoned Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo, how do you think I felt as a judge watching it all unfold?”

Yang Pan-seok stared at me for a long moment, his face expressionless.

Then, he smiled faintly, only with his lips.

“You wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t. It’s only natural.

Half-hearted modern history doesn’t even make it into textbooks. It’s become too old to stay in people’s memories, yet not old enough to be considered ancient history.

Now, it’s just a topic for political enthusiasts to argue about in some dark corner of the internet.

Even when we bring it up for PR stunts, it’s too outdated to make an impact. Activists are now seen as relics of the past. Both the Sangdo-dong and Donggyo-dong factions are washed up…”

He fiddled with his fishing rod, letting out a faint laugh.

“But that’s my life. I’ve always compromised my beliefs, accepted reality, and learned to chip away at myself as I aged. I suppose that’s true for everyone, not just politicians.”

“…”

“Do you believe there’s a right answer in politics?”

Without hesitation, I shook my head. Yang Pan-seok lowered his mask beneath his chin, exhaling a cloud of white breath as he continued speaking.

For the first time, his wrinkled face, which always bore a deliberately maintained smile, showed no trace of humor.

“Survive.”

He said the essence of a politician is survival.

“All political progress is nothing more than populism born out of survival. Promises made to win votes—nothing more, nothing less.”

He claimed that a politician’s duties were an illusion.

“Don’t believe in ideology or justice. The left and the right—both are nonsense. There may be absolute evil in the world, but there’s no such thing as absolute good.”

He said a politician’s convictions were futile.

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen get crushed because they clung to ideology or justice? Don’t waste your strength. When you’re in your 40s, or even your 50s, you’ll be one of the most influential figures controlling this nation.

Don’t burn yourself out while you’re young. Think long-term. Don’t try so hard to achieve something. If you survive, you’ll naturally become strong. That’s how the system in this country works.”

He told me to live just to keep on living. A 13-year political veteran was denying the dreams and ambitions of a politician.

“For now, do whatever it takes to survive. A politician isn’t a beast with the luxury to see beyond its immediate needs.”

This was the first time Yang Pan-seok had spoken in such a voice. My shoulders tensed involuntarily, and the muscles began to ache.

“…Well.”

Yang Pan-seok smiled brightly.

“In that sense, I brought you here to introduce you to someone. Let’s see—”

‘Vroom!’

The sound of an engine echoed as a car approached, wobbling its way up the path.

It was painfully obvious that the driver was a complete amateur. The car came to a shaky stop, and a woman in a suit hurriedly stumbled out, running toward us.

“Speak of the devil, and here she comes.”

Yang Pan-seok stood with a sly smile.

“Enjoy your time together.”

Neither of us had baited our fishing rods. It had all been a hollow conversation.

—

“…Ah, excuse me, Mr. Han Seung-Moon!”

The woman, smaller than me, stumbled over to where I stood.

Her dark circles and narrow shoulders made her suit look oversized.

She began speaking in a soft, small voice, her drooping eyebrows making her look as though she were on the verge of tears.

“Nice to meet you…”

She swallowed dryly and extended a trembling hand for a handshake.

I spoke with concern.

“…Aren’t you cold?”

“Oh, no… I’m fine…”

She was shaking too much for that to be true.

—

I brought her into my car.

“Phew…! That’s better…”

In this kind of weather, wearing nothing but a suit was absurd. Once the heater kicked in, the car quickly became warm.

“Here, have some.”

“Thank you…”

She accepted the thermos I offered with a faint smile.

Her drooping eyebrows gave the impression that even her smiles were bitter. It was strange.

What did Yang Pan-seok mean by “enjoy your time together”? Was he playing the role of a matchmaker now?

Suddenly, she glanced at me and gave a wry smile.

“You look a lot more tired than in your photos…”

“…Ah, yes. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“It’s okay! I have insomnia too…!”

“Oh, I see…”

The woman looked at me with an enigmatic expression before blurting out something.

“Oh, right…!”

“Yes?”

“One moment, I left something in the car…”

She stepped out, holding her heels in her hand, and walked in her stockings through the thick snow to retrieve a briefcase from her vehicle.

“Here it is…!”

Returning, she handed me a document with a peculiar, almost tearful smile.

“Would you like to date me?”

“…Pardon me, but who are you?”

“I’m Chun Geum-soon, an executive at Chunmok Shipping. My grandfather is the chairman of Chunmok Group…”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Ms. Geum-soon.”

“Actually, I don’t like that name…”

Well, what do you want me to do about it?

“Oh, then what should I call you?”

She gave me a faint smile, tilting her drooping eyebrows.

“Just call me Soon-i!”

“Uh, right… Ms. Chun Soon-i, you’re saying you want to…”

“Date you.”

“…I see. Judging by this contract you handed me, it seems like a proposal for a strategic marriage aimed at mutual benefit. Is that correct?”

“Yes…!”

“I refuse.”

—

“What?! No, you can’t…!”

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

Chun Geum-soon grabbed my wrist with a desperate, almost wild look in her eyes.

“I have a lot of money!”

“I don’t need money.”

She nervously chewed on her nails, offering one suggestion after another.

“Then… I’ll make sure you never have to lift a finger for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you need help managing your district? I can secure jobs and attract investments… There’s a shipyard in Tongyeong—”

“I’m with the Democratic Party; that would get me criticized.”

I was slightly tempted.

“The, uh, case where your aunt caused a wrongful lawsuit and drove someone to suicide—”

“Are you threatening me? My aunt was in the wrong, but I was in middle school at the time.”

“No, no! Our public relations team already suppressed the story before it hit JTN, compensated the family, and handled the fallout…”

“Well, thank you for that. I’ll express my gratitude in another way.”

She looked at me with tearful eyes.

“Can’t you just date me?”

“If Chunmok Group has a business proposal, please contact me in a more formal manner. I’m not an unreasonable person.”

“I don’t want this to end as just business!”

“Excuse me?”

“I… I can’t live without you!”

—

She began rambling about Chunmok Group’s extensive ventures: operating container ships, selling chickens, refining lead, managing oil refineries, publishing books, and more.

A typical conglomerate. Somewhere around 19th or 21st in the corporate rankings—it fluctuated, apparently.

She said she used to run a department store in Seoul. Though it was now destroyed, during one of her regular workdays, a gate had opened.

Barely surviving, she joined a nearby apartment complex for shelter. Yes, in Apgujeong. She had been at the Apgujeong camp.

—

She continued her story, twisting her hair nervously as she spoke.

“There, for the first time in my life, I went without food, couldn’t wash, saw people die all around me, and even got sick. I really thought I was going to die… But then, Assemblyman Han Seung-Moon worked a miracle.

…Ever since then, I’ve wanted to see you again. But, you know, politicians and businesspeople aren’t exactly a popular combination. I didn’t want to be a nuisance, so I just lingered nearby. Eventually, I managed to connect with Assemblyman Yang Pan-seok, and now, here we are—just the two of us for the first time… Hehe.”

Chun Geum-soon chuckled shyly, twirling her hair.

I cautiously asked her a question.

“So, were you also at Sinbundang Station during that time—”

“…? Huh? Oh, no. I live in Busan.”

“……”

“But… I don’t think my story is one the public would find all that convincing. If I were to just support your campaign with funds, I’d be violating the Political Funds Act, right? So I figured we’d need to get married first to make it easier to move money around.

And, well, to avoid criticism for collusion between politics and business, having a good story to spin for the media seemed like a good idea… Or is it not…?”

—