They’re probably waiting.
The atmosphere at the Progressive Party headquarters on TV was that of a funeral.
It was impossible for the mood to be good when the ruling party had suddenly fallen into the position of the opposition.
The party mbers had expected defeat, but none of them had imagined the margin would be this overwhelming. The faces of those who had regained their senses were filled with shock as they began leaving their seats one by one.
Even though it was only based on exit polls, all three major broadcasting networks had released identical results.
They didn’t even need to open the ballot boxes to know who had won.
The counting began, and the night deepened. By ten o’clock, a “Confird Winner” tag appeared next to Yoon Changho's na.
Until now, the clear projection of victory had always appeared past midnight.
But the gap between Yoon Changho and the other candidates was so large that even just past ten, his victory was already certain.
Lee Myungsoo, who had been watching the broadcast with Yoon Changho at his house, stood up and bowed deeply.
“Mr. President! Congratulations.”
Yoon Changho jumped up from his seat and pulled him into a strong embrace.
“Thank you, Secretary-General Lee! You’ve worked hard—really hard.”
With a face full of elation, Yoon Changho patted Lee’s back several tis. After they both managed to calm their swelling emotions, they began to move.
“Mr. President-elect, it’s about ti we get moving. The campaign staff will soon be gathering in front of the house. I’ll keep in touch with them, so please get ready.”
“All right. I’ll leave it to you.”
Yoon Changho walked toward the bedroom. Kim Misun started to follow him but stopped, turning around.
“Secretary-General Lee Myungsoo.”
“Yes, Madam First Lady.”
“Thank you. Thanks to you, my husband was able to make it all the way to the presidency. Really... truly, thank you.”
“No, Madam. It’s all because the President-elect lived his life with integrity.”
Kim Misun firmly shook her head. She already had so idea that it was the secretary-general—and the man behind him—who had arranged the board for her husband’s rise.
“No. I know him better than anyone. If he hadn’t t you... he probably would’ve ended his career as Prosecutor General.”
“...”
“I’ll thank you properly later. Then, please excuse .”
Kim Misun gave a small bow of gratitude.
Caught off guard, Lee Myungsoo also bent his waist in return.
After finishing the polite exchange, Kim Misun followed Yoon Changho into the bedroom.
Left alone, Lee Myungsoo stretched and pulled several cell phones from his suit pocket.
The phone he used to contact reporters was already flooded with hundreds of missed calls and ssages.
He dialed Kim Hakpil, the campaign chairman.
The mont the tone began, Kim Hakpil answered.
“Chairman, it’s Lee Myungsoo.”
— Secretary-General! We’ve won. It’s a landslide!
The voice of Yoon Changho's closest aide trembled with excitent.
“Yes, sir. A landslide indeed. It’s the President-elect’s victory—and ours.”
— Haha! How’s the President-elect?
“He’s about to head to the central headquarters. Before that, it’ll look better if you and several key campaign figures co by his house. The scene will make for good coverage.”
— Of course, of course. That’s right.
“At the central headquarters, he’ll greet the party leadership and the campaign staff, then deliver a short victory speech before heading to Gwanghwamun Square to thank the citizens. Make sure the movent plan goes smoothly.”
Even as Lee Myungsoo continued issuing orders, Kim Hakpil responded quickly and without irritation.
— Understood. I’ll depart right away. I’ll tell the staff to plan the route.
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
— About thirty minutes.
“Text when you arrive. I’ll be waiting.”
— All right. I’m heading out now.
After hanging up, Lee called the field team to give additional instructions.
Once he finished those calls—and spoke briefly with a few friendly reporters—he finally pulled out the last phone, the one that only contained numbers of friends and family. He pressed the speed dial: 0.
— Hey, Myungsoo.
“What are you doing?”
— Watching the election broadcast, drinking with Hyung and the guys. What about you?
“Damn it... I’m about to get insanely busy, and you’re sitting there drinking?”
— Haha! Sorry, sorry.
“Bullshit.”
A faint smile crept up the corner of Lee’s lips despite his scolding.
— Congratulations. You’re the ruling party’s new secretary-general now.
“Ha... my head already hurts. My phone’s about to explode, and it still doesn’t feel real.”
He sighed, and from the other end ca a calm but firm voice.
— It’s real. Now just carry out every reform you’ve wanted, one by one. You can do it. I believe in you.
“Thanks. Once things calm down, let’s grab a drink. It’s been too long since we all got together.”
— Yeah, let’s do that.
After ending the call with Kim Muhyuk, Lee Myungsoo walked toward the window at the edge of the living room.
He pulled the curtain slightly aside and looked outside. A huge crowd had already gathered.
Dozens of broadcasting crews and newspaper reporters were there, along with countless supporters waiting for Yoon Changho.
Lee exhaled softly, drew the curtain closed again, and sat back down on the sofa.
Monts later, Yoon Changho erged, dressed and ready. Startled, Lee jumped up.
“It’s fine. Sit down. We don’t need to be so formal with each other.”
“Yes, Mr. President-elect.”
As Lee sat back down, Yoon asked,
“When should we head out?”
“Once Chairman Kim Hakpil and the others arrive. Not imdiately—perhaps wait five minutes after they get here.”
“All right. Then we’ll wait a bit.”
anwhile, on TV, the words “Elected” appeared next to Yoon Changho's na.
— The counting isn’t yet complete, but it is now official: Centrist Party candidate Yoon Changho has been confird as the 16th President of South Korea.
The ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) anchor’s voice rang from the television.
As if on cue, the screen cut to live footage of Yoon Changho's house.
“Hah...”
Seeing the massive crowd gathered in front, Yoon Changho let out a breath of astonishnt.
Every street and alley was packed shoulder to shoulder with supporters. Overwheld, his eyes grew red.
Kim Misun, adjusting his collar beside him, quietly wiped away her own tears.
Seeing that, Lee Myungsoo turned his head aside.
Just then, his phone buzzed—Kim Hakpil’s text ssage: the key staff had arrived.
“Mr. President-elect, everyone’s here. It’s ti to prepare to go out.”
“Really? Then let’s step out, shall we?”
“Yes. Let’s go in a mont.”
“Let’s do that.”
A mont later—
The front door opened, and Yoon Changho and Kim Misun stepped out.
Lee Myungsoo followed three steps behind.
As soon as Yoon appeared, the gathered supporters erupted into chants of his na.
“Yoon Changho! Yoon Changho! Yoon Changho!”
Lined up before the gate, Kim Hakpil and the campaign staff all bowed deeply and shouted in unison:
“Mr. President-elect! Congratulations on your victory!”
It was the mont Yoon Changho beca the 16th President of the Republic of Korea.
[The winner of the 16th Presidential Election: Centrist Party’s Yoon Changho.]
That was the front-page headline of Koryeo Daily the next morning.
The paper featured a large photo of Yoon addressing supporters at Gwanghwamun Square.
— Total registered voters: 41.7 million.
— Total ballots cast: 35.25 million.
— Final turnout: 75.4%.
1st: Centrist Party’s Yoon Changho, 60.2%
2nd: Progressive Party’s Heo Taemin, 24.4%
3rd: People’s Assembly’s Song Chanhyuk, 13.4%
Seoul: Yoon Changho, 72%
Gyeonggi–Incheon: Yoon Changho, 63%
Chungcheong: Yoon Changho, 58%
Gyeongsang: Yoon Changho, 91%
Jeolla: Yoon Changho, 37%
Jeju: Yoon Changho, 55%
Yoon Changho had won by a landslide in every region except Honam.
It was also the only presidential election since the direct voting system was reinstated in 1987 where a non-Progressive candidate had surpassed 30% of the vote in Honam.
Heo Taemin stood in front of the empty Progressive Party building and gave his concession speech.
Though he had been a presidential candidate, his departure was pitiful. Song Chanhyuk also gave his concession speech around the sa ti.
* * *
I put down the newspaper I was reading.
Even if they had admitted defeat and stepped back, I had no intention of forgiving those two.
If they had rely lost an election, I might have left them alone—but they had bared their fangs at .
I pressed the bell beside , and soon Manager Ma entered.
“Call in Chairman Song Chanwoo of Daehyeon Group. He’s probably waiting.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not long after I gave the order, Song Chanwoo arrived.
I stood up, smiling, and extended my hand.
“Chairman Song, welco.”
“Yes, President.”
As soon as they finished shaking hands and sat down, I got straight to the point.
“You must’ve been waiting for my call.”
“Yes, I was.”
“You know why I called, don’t you?”
“...Is it because of Chairman Chanhyuk?”
I had already warned him, so he could easily guess why.
“He’s the one who raised his blade at . If I let him go, no one will fear again. Still, since he’s Chairman Song Youngjoo’s bloodline, it’s sowhat unsettling.”
Song Chanwoo lowered his head, face stiff. He too must have been conflicted.
If Heo Taemin had won, Daehyeon Group would have been shaken to its core.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Chairman.”
“What would you have do?”
“You have the evidence of tax evasion and embezzlent committed by Song Chanhyuk when he managed the heavy industry division, don’t you?”
“...”
“Hand it over to the prosecutor I designate. File the charges directly through Daehyeon Group. If you do that, I won’t intervene personally.”
“You’re telling to remove my own brother.”
Song Chanwoo’s voice trembled.
“That’s right. Daehyeon Group must expel Song Chanhyuk.”
“But...”
“I’ll arrange for a presidential pardon later, so don’t worry too much. But he won’t be able to live in this country anymore.”
It was the cruelest punishnt imaginable for Song Chanhyuk—being cast out by his own family.
“If it’s too difficult, I can handle it myself. In that case, Congressman Song Chanhyuk will never breathe outside air again.”
That would be enough respect to show Chairman Song Youngjoo.
If Song Chanwoo refused, I was prepared to deal with it personally.
“No, sir. I’ll convene a family eting and take care of it myself.”
“I’d like it delivered to the prosecution before President-elect Yoon Changho’s inauguration.”
“Understood.”
“Then I’ll trust you, Chairman.”
Song Chanwoo’s face stiffened. He wouldn’t oppose to protect his brother, but I decided to ease the tension a little.
“By the way, how is Daehyeon Group these days?”
“The automobile sector continues to grow steadily. Heavy industry isn’t bad either. The problem is our North Korea business.”
All inter-Korean projects Daehyeon Group had been pursuing with full effort had been halted.
By now, there should have been companies operating in the Kaesong Industrial Complex.
Tourism to Mount Kumgang should also have been proceeding smoothly, but everything was at a standstill.
Fortunately, Daehyeon Motors’ explosive growth had partially offset the losses, though the damage kept accumulating.
“It’ll probably be the sa during President Yoon Changho’s early term. Just hold out as best you can.”
Even Yoon Changho couldn’t resu North Korea projects imdiately—he had to consider relations with the United States.
“The inter-Korean projects aren’t the issue. The problem is Daehyeon Card.”
“I warned you about the credit card insolvency risk, didn’t I?”
“But you know we couldn’t defy or ignore the governnt’s policy.”
The Kim Hakgwon administration and Daehyeon Group had been too closely intertwined.
When they took over Joongwoo Group, Chairman Song Youngjoo had insisted on transferring Joongwoo Card to Daehyeon, and that decision was now shaking the group.
“Apply for an ergency loan from Taesan Bank. I’ll speak with Chairman Ha.”
“Thank you, President.”
At last, relief softened Song Chanwoo’s rigid expression.
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