NOVEL NEXT Ch. 55
Chapter 55: A War Without Gunfire (1)
Ryu Jong-min's face looked worn with fatigue and stress.
The hot coffee in front of him sent up wisps of steam.
“Not feeling well? It’s still hot out, and you’re drinking something hot.”
Ryu Jong-min looked at me and gave a faint smile.
“Fight fire with fire.”
“There’s a whole basket of worries sitting on top of your head.”
“You see it? I can’t fool you.”
“Wang Do-hun has left the group. I saw the article.”
“There’s a lot of pressure from the party.”
“That’s why you’re impressive. Still, it’s a relief that the two lawmakers left together.”
“At least.”
Ryu Jong-min looked deeply troubled.
He had a passion for establishing a truly conservative conservatism. But now, he seemed exhausted in the face of realistic barriers.
“Even if you make a practical choice, I’ll support you. It’s just hiding your claws for a bit.”
“I won’t waver. I never thought it’d be easy.”
“Feels like you’re shouting into the void, right? No one’s listening.”
“I don’t think no one’s listening. Even now, I have to whisper so I can speak louder later.”
“You’re too much of a fighter. You don’t really fit in over there.”
Ryu Jong-min gave a faint smile and said,
“Actually, there are a fair number of reform-minded people in our party. It’s just that, over time, they compromise with old practices or disappear.”
“Unfortunately, you might disappear too.”
“Then I’d better carry myself properly. How about your party? You don’t have that strong top-down culture, do you?”
I gave a short laugh.
“We have our own dilemma. If we speak with different voices, they say it’s division. If we speak with one voice, they say a faction has taken over and call it undemocratic.”
“In that sense, we do have an advantage. I admit it.”
“I don’t hear your voice. If I rebelled against my party like you do, I’d be all over the news every day.”
“Did you see the Jongseon Ilbo article?”
Reporter Ban Hyeongpil had written an article comparing me and Ryu Jong-min.
Ryu Jong-min, who voiced reform within the party, and Kang Cheonmyeong, tainted by meritocracy.
Since the focus was on party reform, the article mainly criticized me.
It was a retaliatory piece after I hit him hard back at the room salon last time.
It was meant to tame me, but that’s a big mistake.
“That’s one way to see it.”
“He clearly wrote it to attack you. In terms of your activities as a Member of the National Assembly, you’re ahead. I can’t even come close.”
“Now’s not the time for you to be worrying about me, is it?”
“Ha ha. That’s true.”
Just as Ryu Jong-min brought the coffee to his lips, the door opened and YNT reporter Song Min-chae walked in.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“I understand, you must be busy. I heard the strike ended.”
“The ruling party candidate came and promised to replace the president if elected.”
“Can that be trusted?”
“The union members were exhausted. They wanted to collapse, and someone lent them a leg to fall on. To be honest, they want to believe it, but they don’t.”
Song Min-chae stared intently at Ryu Jong-min’s face.
“What are you looking at like that?”
“You look like you’ve lost the whole world. Stay strong. Reform is always hard.”
“Do I really look that beaten down?”
“Feels like someone’s passed away.”
“Oh come on.”
Song Min-chae turned to me and asked,
“Why is Jongseon Ilbo suddenly attacking you? Do you know Reporter Ban Hyeongpil?”
“He just used me as a prop to boost Jong-min.”
“Really? Is that true?”
Ryu Jong-min avoided Song Min-chae’s gaze.
“That’s nonsense. If they wanted to prop me up, they should’ve just printed what I’ve said. They went after Cheonmyeong, that’s for sure.”
“Is that so? Cheonmyeong, do you know the reporter who wrote it?”
“I’ve met him once.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know either.”
Explaining would’ve been annoying.
I also had to keep my plan to use them under wraps.
“That’s strange. Reporters don’t write articles for no reason.”
“That’s how much they’re wary of Cheonmyeong. They want to stomp him down before he can grow.”
“Still, you’re just a newly arrived first-termer, and they’re already treating you like some big shot.”
The word ‘big shot’ made me laugh.
“I’m no big shot.”
“Are you preparing for the National Audit?”
“Just getting by.”
“Why? You seemed sharp during the interpellation session. Nothing else surfaced?”
“It’s coming out one by one.”
“Give me a hint on one big one.”
“Korean Cuisine Globalization.”
Song Min-chae was momentarily speechless, her eyes widening.
“It’s not that surprising. Compared to overseas projects, it’s a drop in the bucket.”
“There’s money to skim even from that?”
“The budget was set at 10 billion won in 2009, and last year it increased to 31.1 billion won—three times more.”
“There were some results, though.”
“As a result, the support fund for undernourished children was cut last year.”
“Cutting off meals for our kids in the name of Korean Cuisine Globalization? That’s a clear hook.”
“It’s slipshod administration. All for show.”
I explained, citing the confirmed amount of budget spent so far.
“The carried-over and unused budget was close to 30%. They didn’t prepare thoroughly—they just rushed to secure the funds.”
“If we dig into this properly, all the ones who skimmed will get exposed.”
“They should.”
Ryu Jong-min, who had been listening, spoke quietly.
“For the conservatives, breaking off corruption is no easy task.”
“Our conservative bloc is more like a cartel of vested interests. The supporters admire that power, so they don’t take corruption seriously.”
Song Min-chae raised her voice slightly, then looked at Ryu Jong-min.
“Isn’t that why you went in, to create an upright conservatism? If a man draws a sword, he’s got to at least slash a totem pole.”
“I’ll cut something, at least.”
“There are decent people in the Korea Unification Party too. Bring them over to your side.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
Song Min-chae turned her head and looked at me.
“Your interview really struck me. When you said you wanted to do something meaningful—it was moving. I hope both you and Jong-min do meaningful work.”
“Cheonmyeong is doing great. I’m the problem.”
Ryu Jong-min looked utterly deflated.
I offered him some comfort.
“You’re doing well. Change is beginning, step by step. No need to rush.”
“Exactly. It hasn’t been that long since you were elected. You’re just too ambitious.”
“Jong-min, you’ll achieve your dream. I guarantee it.”
“If it’s Cheonmyeong saying that, I believe it!”
Ryu Jong-min beamed at me.
Song Min-chae took a sip of Ryu Jong-min’s coffee and said,
“Anyway, this presidential election is going to be neck and neck. Representative Yang Chil-su might be the key variable.”
“He’s running for president?”
Ryu Jong-min’s eyes lit up as he looked at Song Min-chae.
“He polled well in the New Year opinion poll. In every head-to-head matchup in all the surveys, he came out on top. It’ll be hard for him to resist the temptation.”
“He’ll go for unification, right?”
“Hard to win if they split.”
The political section was already heating up with presidential election fever. It was certain to take attention away from the National Audit.
Regrettably, just as expected.
The first National Audit ended up marred by pre-election strife.
Near midnight.
Only Ahn Jin-su and I remained in the office.
It had been a bitter audit.
The media poured out reports about allegations against the presidential candidates, and both major parties focused on political offensives.
The issues my staff and I had prepared—public corporation debt, problems with the Korean Cuisine Globalization project, and collusion among construction firms—received no media spotlight.
The presidential race absorbed everything.
“Jin-su, you worked hard. Sorry we couldn’t produce results.”
“The presidential race is consuming everything. Plus, the witnesses didn’t even show up. We did what we could.”
“We’ll have to do better next year.”
“Still, it’s worrying. Representative Yang Chil-su’s polling numbers are high, and it’s giving the party a headache.”
In today’s released poll, the ruling party candidate only led when unification happened with Representative Yang Chil-su.
Of course, regardless of which side unified, the race was within the margin of error—a tight battle.
“What are the rumors floating around Yeouido? Is he determined to run all the way?”
“It’s a tug-of-war. Right now, our candidate has proposed unification.”
“And Representative Yang Chil-su won’t back down from announcing policy first, huh.”
“Seems like he’s still watching the situation. It’s a big opportunity for him too.”
I took a role in the media division in charge of debates and promotion.
I assisted the Division Head.
Ahn Jin-su furrowed her brows in frustration.
“Can you believe this isn’t even an easy election, even with the government in such disarray?”
“The opponent came out with Economic Democratization and Welfare. We lost the initiative in the agenda battle. The decisive swing might come from voters in their 50s.”
“The baby boomer voting bloc is close to 8 million, right?”
“Yeah. If we don’t win them over, we’ll be at a disadvantage in future elections too. As they age, they could become more conservative.”
The 'Baby Boomer Generation' born between 1955 and 1963.
As they entered their fifties, the situation had turned somewhat unfavorable.
I had argued within the party that we needed to implement more pragmatic policies to win this generation over to our side. However, the party was fixated on unification, basing its strategy on dichotomies like good and evil, future and past.
Ahn Jin-su asked,
“You saw the presidential election report from the private research institute, right?”
“I did.”
“It said that even with unification behind Candidate Yang Chil-su, we’d still lose by over a million votes.”
“That’s based on turnout by generation. That’s why the current 50s demographic is so crucial. If we can’t win their hearts, we’re doomed.”
“What’s the party saying?”
“I still don’t have power.”
Of course, I knew how this election would end.
Still, since I had returned, there was a vague hope that I could change history. But as a first-term lawmaker, I had no power to raise my voice in the presidential race.
Even so, I had to do my best so I wouldn’t regret it.
There’s no asset more valuable than experience.
“In the end, the key is PK and the Capital Area, assuming we hold the heartland.”
“Winning the heartland won’t be easy.”
“Well, the ruling party candidate promised to relocate the administrative city, so we’ll probably lose that battle too.”
It was clearly a tough election.
But the party still believed we had a good chance.
There were many things that didn’t sit well with me.
Trying to chase swing voters before even securing our base, aiming for the center; bloating the campaign committee, thus reducing efficiency; and the lukewarm attitude of lawmakers who lost in the primary.
Ahn Jin-su wore a bitter expression.
“Ending the primary so late also hurt us. The opposition is running in a well-organized manner, but we’re still in disarray.”
“Yeah. And there’s the unification issue.”
“I also don’t understand why they keep shaking the Party Leader. There’s not much time left—why keep shaking things up? Feels like there’s a mole inside.”
While not confirmed, there was a circulating rumor.
That Representative Yang Chil-su was demanding the current Party Leader step down as a condition for unification.
“Because factions clearly exist.”
“Exactly, and I don’t get why they’re dragging in the former President. We should be uniting behind the candidate now.”
The mainstream and non-mainstream factions were still divided, locked in a power struggle.
The mainstream, centered around the former President and current candidate, had four factions, while the non-mainstream—including those with a history in the democratization movement—had more than five.
They hadn’t even seized power yet, and already they were talking about dividing it. No wonder the party wasn’t functioning properly.
It was frustrating just thinking about it.
“Let’s go home.”
“Secretary Pyo already left.”
“I’ll walk. It’s not that far.”
“Get in my car. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Thanks.”
The night seemed even darker than usual. But it wasn’t over yet—there was still time, so I couldn’t give up.
I’d see it through to the end.