Free Web NovelI sat alone in the sauna of the Myeongdong Hotel, sweating out the heat.
Who knows how long I’d been sitting there, when the glass door opened and a rush of cold air drifted in.
With a towel draped over my head, I didn’t bother turning toward the door. I just spoke.
“Lee Myungsoo. Took you long enough.”
“Damn, never seen a sauna this empty before. It’s nice though, quiet.”
“Stop changing the subject. It’s better if no one sees us, so I cleared it out. Sit down.”
Myungsoo came over, sat beside me, and flipped over the hourglass.
“Ah... finally feels good. I drank till three in the morning, I swear I’m dying. Wonder if this is how people ruin their health.”
He groaned and pretended to keel over, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Want me to get you some herbal medicine for your liver?”
“No thanks. My mom keeps sending it, but I never drink it—my fridge is full of the stuff. Want some?”
“I’ve got plenty. Grandma keeps sending it too.”
“Our moms, your grandma... guess they still think we’re kids.”
He really had been drinking until three; the smell of alcohol was seeping out with his sweat.
“Hey, at least wash yourself. You smell like booze. I’m getting drunk just sitting next to you.”
“Bullshit. Say something that makes sense.”
Myungsoo frowned, wrinkling his face in disgust. That crumpled expression made me laugh out loud.
Seeing me laugh, he smoothed out his face and laughed along.
But soon the smile faded, and he got to the point.
“The rough terms of the negotiation are done.”
I wiped the grin off my face and asked seriously,
“Yeah? What are the conditions?”
“They want to nominate their own candidates in the TK region again. And they want a share in the PK region too.”
Greedy bastards.
They wanted to keep their influence in both TK and PK and still take all the profits.
TK was a district where even an idiot would win if they ran under the conservative banner.
But ever since the Centrist Party was founded, their support had risen sharply there too.
No one knew how things would shift if Yoon Changho became president.
That’s why the conservatives were so eager to merge. free𝑤ebnovel.com
“You’re really giving them that?”
“For now, yes. The election’s right around the corner—dragging this out won’t help anyone.”
“Hmm...”
The presidential election was a battle that could only be won if all supporters united.
In the polls, Centrist Party’s Yoon Changho was in the lead, followed by National Assembly Party’s Song Chanhyuk.
Progressive Party’s Heo Taemin was close behind, and the Conservatives were dead last with barely 5% support.
There were a few other minor candidates, but none worth mentioning.
“Surprisingly, Song Chanhyuk's popularity is no joke. The World Cup fever hasn’t completely died yet.”
Despite my warnings, Song Chanhyuk had apparently decided to run for president.
He hadn’t officially declared his candidacy yet, but he had already left his independent status to found the new National Assembly Party.
“Yoon is still comfortably ahead for now, but if he stumbles even once, we won’t be able to stop that guy. So we have no choice but to concede a little.”
Still, giving the conservatives too big a bite would hurt us in the long run.
Maybe I should just find a way to make Song Chanhyuk drop out entirely.
“Heo Taemin's been approaching Song Chanhyuk. If those two form a single ticket, we can’t guarantee the outcome. So we need the conservatives on our side no matter what.”
“You want me to make Song Chanhyuk withdraw?”
“Can you do it?”
“If you want, I can.”
I shrugged. Myungsoo gave me a weary look.
“You’re not some magic hammer that makes gold when it hits things. Wait—no, knowing you, it might actually happen.”
But then he shook his head.
“If Song Chanhyuk drops out, it’ll backfire. Heo Taemin will probably gain the most. We might benefit a little, but still... Our analysts say most of the Progressive Party’s support would flow to Song Chanhyuk.”
Even at the end of his term, Kim Hakgwon was maintaining over 40% approval.
But Heo Taemin and the Progressives were barely in the high teens.
They couldn’t fully inherit Kim Hakgwon’s base.
Instead, Song Chanhyuk's support was hovering around 28%.
Combine the two and you’d match Kim Hakgwon’s numbers.
As the public opinion split, Yoon Changho’s support had dropped from 50% to 45%.
“Honestly, Song Chanhyuk's easier to deal with than Heo Taemin. There’s plenty to attack him with. But with Heo Taemin, there’s not much to hit. As long as we secure the Conservatives, we’ll win no matter who merges.”
Confidence gleamed in Myungsoo’s eyes. Seeing that, I smiled.
Hard to believe this was the same guy who used to whine about how scary politics was. He’d grown up.
“Still, you shouldn’t push yourself too far. There’s already enough noise inside the party.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So if you really need help, I’ll step in. Until then, just trust me and watch. Got it?”
He gave a small nod. He was no longer just following orders—he was becoming a real political partner.
“Got it. But if things look bad, I’ll step in. You know how many years I’ve worked to make Yoon Changho president.”
“Of course. If we start losing, we’ll cling to you first. But honestly, losing isn’t even an option. If we do, everyone’s finished. Right?”
I answered with a smile, and he continued without waiting for a reply.
“We’re going to announce the merger the day before the registration deadline. That way we grab all the headlines. Heo Taemin and Song Chanhyuk probably won’t merge before then—they’ll wait until after the registration.”
Smart move. I nodded approvingly.
“So the plan’s to announce the merger the day before registration. The Centrist Party’s candidate—Yoon Changho—won’t even register. Then he steps down as party leader, and a new leader is inaugurated. That’s the picture, right?”
Normally, presidents in Korea kept both party leadership and state power in their hands.
But Yoon Changho wanted to stand out by formally separating the two.
That would give them the perfect media boost alongside the official campaign launch.
“Exactly. You catch on quick as always. Our old-timers took all day to understand it.”
Myungsoo sighed deeply, clearly exhausted from convincing them.
“Looks like the plan’s solid. If the leading candidate does that, the Progressives will have to follow. But will Heo Taemin really give up party leadership?”
“No way. He’d rather give the presidential nomination to Song Chanhyuk than let go of the party.”
President Song and Party Leader Heo... funny how well that fits.
“Oh, and the Chairman told me to thank you for the campaign funds. He also said it’s best if there’s no contact between you two for now.”
At this stage, Yoon Changho had to be careful—even falling leaves could spell trouble.
Official campaign funds were loaned through Taesan Bank; unofficial funds were laundered before delivery.
“Yeah? Then tell him to make sure he wins. And save me the best seat at the inauguration.”
“Heh, of course. When Yoon Changho becomes president, you’ll be the one who made it happen—but no one will ever know, right?”
“If they find out, you’re dead.”
After so long in [N O V E L I G H T] the sauna, the heat was getting suffocating. I stood up first.
“It’s hot. Let’s grab a sikhye outside. They make a decent one here. Not as good as Grandma’s sweet rice drink, but close enough.”
“Perfect! I could go for that.”
Myungsoo got up too. We took a cold shower and left the bathhouse.
“Manager Ma, bring two sikhye, please.”
We roughly dried off, threw on robes, and sat on the wooden platform.
While Manager Ma sent someone to fetch the drinks, Myungsoo joined me, looking relaxed.
“Ahh, that cold shower after sweating it all out—feels like heaven. Thought I was gonna die earlier.”
He lay back on the platform, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV to a news channel.
“Finally, people are starting to react.”
At his words, I turned my gaze to the screen.
The news was covering the two students who’d been run over and killed by a U.S. Army tank.
The U.S. military refused to take responsibility. A few officers received token disciplinary action, but since the legal jurisdiction lay with the U.S., the verdict would almost certainly be “not guilty.”
I already knew what would follow: once the acquittal came, anti-American sentiment would explode, and candlelight vigils would begin.
Whether intended or not, those two deaths would become political leverage.
This incident would become the turning point of the election.
“SOFA, huh? How the hell does that make sense? Why does America get to hold the trial for something that happened in our country?”
Myungsoo frowned and grumbled.
The Status of Forces Agreement—SOFA.
Among its many clauses, the key one granted the U.S. military exclusive jurisdiction over its own personnel’s criminal cases.
People hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now, because of this tragedy, they were demanding revisions.
Yet the U.S. had no intention of scrapping it.
There were provisions allowing them to transfer jurisdiction to Korea, and they had done so several times before—
—but never for incidents that occurred during military training.
Two people were dead. Middle schoolers. Children.
“Have the Centrist Party seize the issue first.”
It was a cruel thing to say, but politics demanded cruelty.
Myungsoo turned toward me, shocked.
“You mean, make SOFA revision our campaign pledge?”
“...The U.S. will never agree to that.”
“I’ll take care of that part. Just make sure we get ahead of the Progressives—before the verdict, before anyone else claims it.”
His brow furrowed.
“Two kids died. And you want to turn it into a campaign issue?”
I spoke firmly.
“Don’t waste time on shallow sympathy. If something’s wrong, fix it yourself. Powerless sympathy is an empty cry.”
“...”
“To do that, you have to be ruthless. You have to be willing to use even tragedies like this if it means changing the system. That’s your job. That’s what it means to be a politician.”
I looked him straight in the eyes and spoke coldly.
“Don’t like it? You can still walk away.”
“...No. You’re right. I’ll fix it myself.”
“Good. Harden your heart. A politician who hesitates is already finished.”
“Got it. You can really get it revised?”
“I’ll make it happen. Trust me.”
Myungsoo was a good man. But being good alone would never let you survive in politics.
I’d always meant to tell him that one day—
it just turned out to be on a bad one.
The atmosphere had turned heavy, but thankfully Manager Ma arrived with the sikhye.
“Let’s drink. It’s good.”
I lifted the bowl and drank. The sweetness lingered on my tongue, the soft grains of rice pleasant in the mouth.
Myungsoo followed suit.
“Oh, damn, that’s good.”
His eyes widened in delight as he downed it in one go.
“Not as good as your grandma’s, but it’s the best I’ve had in Seoul. I’m coming here again.”
“Right? It’s close to Busan’s flavor. I’ll tell them to keep it that way—you can come anytime.”
I’d made sure the hotel kitchen prepared it like this when I took over the place, but there was no need to mention that.
Still, Myungsoo somehow caught on, grinning as he set his bowl down.
“You had them make it this way, didn’t you?”
Sharp as ever. I just shrugged, pretending not to hear.
We chatted idly for a bit, until Myungsoo reached into his robe pocket as if remembering something.
After a moment, he pulled out a small note and handed it to me.
“By the way, why do you want Jinpyo’s contact info?”
“Well...”
“He’s had a rough life. Because of me, remember? Just leave him alone.”
I took the memo and chuckled. Guess he’d only thought of the worst possible reason.
“Still too soft.”
If I hadn’t come back, Myungsoo would still be limping today.
But I’d changed the past, and Hong Jinpyo—the man who should’ve been successful—was now neck-deep in redevelopment projects.
I’d been shocked when I’d run into him by chance at a redevelopment site I’d visited with Myungsoo.
“It’s fine. It won’t be bad for him either, so don’t worry. Sounds like you’ve kept in touch though.”
“Yeah, since that day. We were just kids back then. No point holding onto grudges. We had a few drinks and buried the hatchet.”
Watching him say it so casually, I asked,
“If I hadn’t had any power back then, it would’ve been us getting crushed. Still fine with that?”
“No point in thinking about what didn’t happen. Anyway, treat him well when you meet. Hyunseong and I already made peace.”
So they’d been meeting often behind my back. I nodded and called out to Manager Ma, handing him the memo.
“Get in touch and arrange a meeting.”
“Yes, sir.”
Use poison to kill poison.
Since Hong Jinpyo had stepped into my business, I’d deal with him the same way.
