After that, Myungsoo and Yoo Nakhyun continued their ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) tug-of-war for quite a while.
But I didn’t intervene again. Instead, I simply sipped my drink and watched their contest of wills.
‘I can’t keep sheltering him forever.’
Of course, if I stepped in, things would move faster and more smoothly.
But if that kept happening, Myungsoo would end up as nothing more than a puppet obeying my orders, incapable of acting on his own initiative.
I didn’t need a puppet—I needed a friend who could stand beside me.
“I understand what you’re saying, President Lee,” Yoo Nakhyun said, “but you’re overlooking one thing. Since the founding of the Republic of Korea, the Conservative Party was established immediately. Every president before Kim Hakgwon came from the Conservatives. The half-century history of the party won’t vanish so easily.”
“......”
“And yet you’re saying a newly founded party will swallow it whole? That doesn’t add up.”
At those words, Myungsoo sighed openly.
“Mr. Chairman, are you not satisfied with being Party Leader?”
“Haha, just a nominal leadership position doesn’t satisfy me. I need real power. You were planning to replace me during the general election, weren’t you?”
“......”
“Haha! So that really was your plan?”
Though he laughed heartily, the gleam in Yoo Nakhyun’s eyes dimmed.
“The general election is still two years away,” Myungsoo said. “It’s too early to discuss it. But after this incident, quite a few parliamentary seats will be lost. So—”
Yoo Nakhyun raised his hand, cutting him off.
“You’re calculating it wrong. The nomination rights for by-elections and re-elections aren’t worth that much. Those districts are mostly Conservative strongholds. Whoever we put there, we’ll win anyway.”
“......I understand. Let’s wrap up here for today. I doubt we’ll reach any agreement tonight.”
Myungsoo took a step back as if to end the discussion.
But Yoo Nakhyun didn’t back off. He waved his hand dismissively and continued.
“No, President Lee, that’s not how you do it. We need to set at least some framework now. Otherwise it’ll fizzle out. Give me exactly half the nomination rights for the general election two years from now. In exchange, I’ll bring you the Conservative Party myself.”
Myungsoo looked at him with an expression of disbelief.
“......That’s quite greedy of you.”
“Greedy? Didn’t I say it already? We’re talking about inheriting the legitimacy of a party that’s lasted decades. For that, it’s a cheap price to pay.”
“Promising half of the nomination rights isn’t something I can do. And frankly, I have no desire to push for a merger under such terms.”
In party politics, nomination rights were everything.
The very reason factional politics existed in Korea was because of the custom of dividing those rights among factions.
Lawmakers dependent on nominations couldn’t disobey their bosses. That’s why nomination rights equaled power—power and weapon both.
The old man was dripping with greed, and Myungsoo, well aware of how vital those rights were, could only shake his head repeatedly.
Then Yoo Nakhyun turned his gaze toward me.
“What about you? What’s your opinion? Just promise me half the nomination rights, that’s all it takes.”
I set down my empty glass. It seemed he was shifting his target since Myungsoo wasn’t giving in.
“Not interested. You can handle it with Myungsoo.”
“But President Lee said he doesn’t have the authority. You, on the other hand, could make that decision, couldn’t you?”
“Well, the biggest reason the Conservatives collapsed was because they abused those nomination rights. They turned it into a loyalty contest. And that endless competition led to a party that had lasted fifty years being pushed down to the third-largest in the Assembly. Why on earth should we entrust that power to you?”
“......Young man, that’s just how Korean politics works.”
“That’s how Korean politics works, huh...” I smirked.
“If that’s what Korean politics is, then giving such authority to you makes even less sense.”
“You...”
“Chairman Yoo, it seems you truly understand nothing. People who don’t understand anything can’t see the big picture. You mentioned being afraid of Choi Sunman earlier, didn’t you? That man’s finished. He’s a kite with its string cut. His hands and feet have been severed—he can no longer influence the Conservatives at all.”
“......What do you mean by that?”
Yoo Nakhyun’s eyes widened.
“For someone so ignorant to be so greedy—how disappointing. The rest you can find out on your own. I’ll be going now. I only came to pay respects and ended up witnessing something unpleasant.”
I rose from my seat first.
“You’ll stay a bit longer, right? Call me when you’re done.”
Myungsoo nodded.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Chairman Yoo Nakhyun.”
I gave him a slight bow and left without hesitation.
I waited in the main building for about an hour before Myungsoo arrived.
“You’re here?”
“How did you even know to come?”
He asked as he stepped into the room where a new table of drinks had been set.
“This place used to be connected to Grandfather. I came for some business and heard you were here, so I dropped by. Should I not have?”
Myungsoo shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He took off his coat and sat down.
“No, it’s good you came. Thanks to you, I figured out what that old fox is really thinking.”
As he massaged his neck and sighed, I poured him a drink.
“Been a while since we’ve had a drink, huh.”
“What’s with that accent? Where’d you pick that up again?”
“I don’t know. Bit of everything. With so many lawmakers from different regions in the party, it all blends together. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
I chided lightly, and Myungsoo chuckled. He poured a drink into my glass as well, and after a light toast, he continued.
“So why’d you choose Yoo Nakhyun? The man’s already retired from politics.”
“That’s exactly why. I didn’t expect him to be that greedy, though. I thought since he’d already been Assembly Speaker, he’d gladly accept the party leadership if I handed it to him. Turns out he’s not an easy one. Damn it.”
“He spent decades under President Kim Mansam. You think that’d make him easy?”
“Damn it...”
Cursing, Myungsoo poured himself another drink.
“The old snake’s all greed. The general election’s two years away, and he’s demanding half the nomination rights? How’s that make sense?”
“It doesn’t. But still, you were willing to hand him the leadership?”
“I don’t have anyone else to entrust it to. Most of my faction are first- or second-term lawmakers. The senior ones are too greedy. None of them have the gravitas to take the post.”
In Korean politics, youth was a disadvantage.
No matter how flashy your entry into politics, even with Party Leader Yoon backing you, it didn’t change that.
Because of the authority Myungsoo held, they treated him decently enough to his face, but behind his back, mockery was routine.
“Yeah? Well, you’ll handle it.”
He took another sip and let out a long sigh.
“Chairman Yoon Chang-ho will never give up the nomination rights. You know how much power that is. Even if he steps down as leader, he’ll never relinquish that.”
I nodded and refilled his glass.
“I know. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure the nomination rights end up in your hands.”
“What?”
“It’s not that big a deal. If you become president, you should learn to let go of certain things, don’t you think?”
“......Is that even possible?”
“Of course. Naturally.”
I filled my own glass and raised it. Myungsoo followed suit.
“Do whatever you want. I’ll be the one backing you from behind.”
Our glasses clinked, and Myungsoo chuckled faintly.
“Hah, lucky me to have such a capable friend. I can rest easy now.”
I laughed with him. We looked at each other and drained our glasses at the same time.
“Still, we’ll have to merge somehow. The Conservatives may have collapsed, but in the TK region they’re still overwhelming. The local elections proved that. Even when Yoon Chang-ho had over half the national approval rating, the Conservatives took every TK district. Can you believe that?”
That was exactly why we needed to bring them in.
Even weakened, they still held significant regional influence.
“It’s all because of decades of regionalism. What can you do? Still, aside from TK and Honam, you won most places. Even in North Jeolla. That’s a good result. You can’t change everything overnight. Take it slow. You’re still young.”
Myungsoo touched his empty glass and nodded slightly.
“To be honest, I only started because you pushed me into it, but it turns out I have a knack for it. Still, this job is absolute hell. I knew it would be, but still... Looking from the outside and from the inside are two completely different things.”
“......”
“There are times I want to quit everything, but... it’s fun too. I drink like a fish now, gained weight too.”
He leaned his chin on his hand and complained half-jokingly, and I looked at him quietly.
“You’ve really become a politician. You can even spar with someone like Yoo Nakhyun. Honestly, I was impressed today.”
“Please, Yoo Nakhyun’s a gentleman compared to some inside the party. There are snakes all over the place. I’ve grown immune to it.”
He picked up the kettle and poured drinks into both our glasses.
“So, what’s the conclusion?”
“What conclusion? There’s no way I’m giving him half the nomination rights. Even giving him a tenth is too generous. This was just the first round of talks anyway. I underestimated him. We agreed to meet again later.” fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
“It won’t be easy. ‘Merger’ sounds nice, but it’s really about absorbing everything the Conservatives built.”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and raised his glass abruptly.
“Anyway, tell me about President Choi Sunman.”
I clinked my glass against his and took a sip, then told him about my meeting with Choi Sunman—leaving some parts out and embellishing others.
When I finished, Myungsoo’s mouth fell open.
“I had a rough idea, but damn... you really are something. Do you know how terrifying that man is? And you said that to his face?”
Shaking his head, he continued.
“From what you’re saying, we don’t even need to concede. If Choi Sunman’s completely tied down, the only heavyweight left who can move the Conservatives is President Kim Mansam. The rest are trapped by this mess and out of the picture.”
As he toyed with his glass, muttering to himself, I watched him with a faint smile.
Then, as if his thoughts had clicked into place, he curved his lips upward.
He’d found his answer from what I said about Choi Sunman—and that was satisfying to see.
“Yeah, we can afford to push harder.”
“Want me to handle the rest for you?”
“Huh? Nah, it’s fine. You already spoon-fed me enough. If I ask you to feed me too, what would that make me? I’ll manage. If it gets too rough, I’ll call you. Until then, stay out of it, okay?”
“You’ve grown up, Lee Myungsoo.”
I teased, and he playfully waved a fist at me.
Then, as if remembering something, he set his glass down.
“Oh, right. Do you still talk to your grandma often?”
“Grandma? I call her every day. Why?”
“Really? She hasn’t said anything?”
“Well, she’s not the type to tell me much. Just the usual—‘Are you eating well? Stay healthy.’ That sort of thing.”
“Hmm...”
He poured me another drink, his tone softening.
“My mom says she’s gotten really weak lately. Not sick, just frail. You should go visit her. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
I hadn’t noticed anything unusual over the phone, and no reports had mentioned it either.
I should’ve paid more attention, but I’d been so caught up outside that I’d neglected her.
Without realizing it, I tightened my grip around the glass.
“Tell me in detail. What do you mean by that?”
“No, she’s not sick. It’s just her age. She’s been getting weaker, that’s all.”
“I never got any reports like that...”
“How would your security guys know that sort of thing? Only someone like my mom would notice.”
He was right. In the end, it was up to me to look after my own people.
“Yeah. Once things settle down, I’ll go down there.”
“Good. She’s old now, you know. You never know when an elder’s health might suddenly take a turn. Don’t regret it later—be good to her while you can. She’s been bragging about you to everyone lately. Said she even sent you tonic medicine again.”
At his words, I finally managed to smile.
Being around my people always made me feel lighter—more at ease, more human.
And so, we kept drinking until the morning sun rose, sharing all the conversations we hadn’t had in far too long.