Ilhyeon Group’s restructuring kept the Republic of Korea abuzz for a while, but as time passed, it gradually faded from people’s memories. With Ilhyeon Group taking no further aggressive action, Korea’s attention gradually turned toward the presidential race set for year’s end. Each party entered a fierce primary system to select its presidential candidate. As people watched the chosen candidates being tested for their competitiveness, curiosity grew over who would be elected the president to end the era of dictatorship and open the second age of civilian rule.

At the Sunday meal in Pyeongchang-dong, the presidential election was the main topic of conversation.

“Wouldn’t it be best to support the ruling party’s candidate?” Mun-jong offered his view. “He has a good image, being from a background of uncompromising judges. And with the merit of being the ruling party’s candidate besides, his election looks likely.”

“But Brother, the opposition candidate is one of the three great Kims of our nation.” Jeong-eun put forward a view against Mun-jong’s claim. “A man with over twenty years of political career, already on his third presidential run — a veteran among veterans. Who should we support if not him?”

“That he’s run so many times and failed each time is exactly the point — that’s as far as that man goes.”

Mun-jong shook his head and said to Tak-hyeon, “People want a new era, and the ruling party’s candidate fits that image perfectly. Father. Let’s give the ruling candidate 40 billion in support.”

No sooner had Mun-jong finished than Jeong-eun cut in. “Father, the opposition said 20 billion would be enough.”

“They said 20 billion would be enough? You mean you’ve already made contact?”

Mun-jong looked at Jeong-eun with displeasure at having his words interrupted.

But Jeong-eun paid his look no mind and spoke to Tak-hyeon. “It wasn’t me — it was Cha who did it. You know who his father is. He has political connections on the opposition side too, so he was able to speak with people there. So I heard the opposition’s offer through him…” She turned. “Don’t just sit there, say something.”

Jeong-eun jabbed Yeong-su Cha in the side, since he’d said nothing despite her having said this much already.

Rubbing the side she’d jabbed, Cha spoke to Tak-hyeon in a cowed voice. “They say if we give 20 billion, they’ll show us consideration once they take power.”

At Cha’s brief words, Tak-hyeon’s brow narrowed. Jeong-eun didn’t miss his expression and pressed on. “This one just isn’t good with words, so he can’t explain it in detail. They’ve already given a concrete answer from the opposition side. If they take power, they’ll lift the greenbelt restriction in southeastern Seoul, and they said they’d give us the development rights for that project. Not only that — we got a verbal promise that we’d be included in the southwest coastal development project too.”

Jeong-eun relayed, in Cha’s place, what the opposition had promised.

Mun-jong studied Tak-hyeon’s expression as he listened to Jeong-eun, then spoke before Tak-hyeon could. “That’s still just a verbal promise, isn’t it? You want to support the opposition trusting a promise they could break without consequence? Have you no more sense than that? There’s no guarantee the opposition even wins in the first place — what are we supposed to trust in supporting them? Because the money involved is smaller? We should support whoever’s going to win. Since when do you support based on how little it costs?”

“Is there a guarantee the ruling party wins? There’s none of that either. You won’t know until you open the lid, so why are you so sure of yourself?”

Jeong-eun shouted back without backing down, and at her words Mun-jong flared up and shouted back at her. “Some things you can know without opening the lid. With North Korea sitting right on top of our heads, the right wing is bound to win. And on top of that, the opposition candidate’s been called a communist since way back — do you really think that man’s going to become president?”

“Oh, please — you’ve never even seen a real communist in your life, and you’re going on about communists? And isn’t the former president, who painted the opposition candidate as a communist in the first place, himself a communist — a former South Korean Labor Party official? Frankly, the true-blooded communists are on the ruling side — why bring up communists about the opposition…”

“What did you say? You—”

Just then Tak-hyeon set his spoon down on the table with a clack.

Mun-jong’s mouth, open to shout at Jeong-eun, snapped shut in an instant, and Jeong-eun’s eyes, which had been glaring at Mun-jong, dropped under the table.

Only once the room had gone quiet did Tak-hyeon slowly speak. “Are you the children of some low-born rabble, that anyone shouts like that at the dinner table?”

Tak-hyeon looked at Mun-jong and Jeong-eun with contempt and said, “See to your children’s upbringing, so no one says outside that they never learned proper table manners!”

Tak-hyeon glared at Suk-ja, seated to his left, and rose from his seat. Then he called to Seong-ho, quietly eating at the end of the table.

“Kim, finish your meal and come up to the study.”

“I’ve finished.”

Seong-ho hurriedly swallowed the food in his mouth and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Then he followed Tak-hyeon at once toward the study.

Once the two of them were out of sight, Jeong-eun blamed Mun-jong in an irritated voice.

“This is because of you!”

“Because of me? What did I do?”

“Father got angry because you raised your voice.”

At her words, Mun-jong let out a dry laugh. “Ha! Anyone listening would think it was only me. Were you speaking gently, then?”

“How much did I even shout? Hardly at all.”

“Your shouting grates on the ears more.”

The moment Tak-hyeon left, the two of them were at each other’s throats again.

Suk-ja could no longer just sit and watch.

“Can’t the two of you stop it!”

At Suk-ja — who’d sat quietly showing no reaction no matter what was said — suddenly shouting, Mun-jong and Jeong-eun were startled enough to fall silent at once.

Seeing the quiet at last, Suk-ja looked at the two of them with contempt.

“Can’t you two gather your positions together before you come, instead of doing this?”

“Mom. Brother should hear me out first, then we can gather our positions or not.”

At Jeong-eun’s words, Mun-jong responded at once. “And why are you making unilateral contact with the opposition on your own?”

“Did I meet them? It was Cha’s father who met them.”

Sensing the exchange about to start up again, Suk-ja shut her eyes and shouted once more. “I said stop it!”

“But, Mom, I…”

As Jeong-eun tried to explain, Suk-ja opened her eyes and glared fiercely at her.

“Mun-jong is the eldest son of this house. You should listen to your brother — where does a younger sister, of all people, talk back to her eldest brother!”

“Mom…”

“In the old days, a married-off daughter wouldn’t even have been allowed to sit at the family table.”

Having scolded Jeong-eun fiercely, Suk-ja didn’t forget to speak to Mun-jong too. “And you — did you have to bring that subject up while we’re eating?”

“Mother, that’s…”

“When we eat, let’s just eat. Don’t you think your father would like to eat in peace too?”

“…I’m sorry.”

At Mun-jong’s apology, Suk-ja let out a low sigh. Then she scolded Gyeong-eun, seated beside where Seong-ho had been.

“And you — keep your husband in check.”

At the sudden turn of the arrow toward Seong-ho, Gyeong-eun said to Suk-ja, “Why bring up Seong-ho all of a sudden?”

“With your brothers-in-law all sitting right here in a row, and even your elder sisters-in-law present, does it look good for the youngest son-in-law to have a private audience with Father?”

Bewildered, Gyeong-eun’s eyes went wide. “Seong-ho didn’t ask Father for a private audience — Father’s the one who took him. Why are you talking as if it’s Seong-ho’s fault?”

“Even if Father does that, he should know to say no!”

Suk-ja seemed more displeased by Seong-ho going off to the study with Tak-hyeon than by Mun-jong and Jeong-eun’s squabbling over the dinner table.

Suk-ja raised her voice at Gyeong-eun, who kept talking back.

“He could have suggested talking it over with your brothers there together.”

“How is he supposed to say that when he doesn’t even know what Dad’s going to say?”

“Even so!”

Suk-ja chewed her lip and said, “Even so, that’s how it should be.”

At Suk-ja’s stubbornness, Gyeong-eun lost her words.

“Your husband must never forget how he came to marry into this family. And he must never forget his own place. If you think that just because you married, he stands at the same level as your brothers and sister and Cha here, that’s a great mistake.”

“Mom, what do you mean? Not the same level?”

Gyeong-eun couldn’t hide her bewilderment at Suk-ja’s words.

“If he keeps having private audiences with Father like this, passing over your brothers, I won’t just keep sitting and watching.”

“Mom, what’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?”

More irritation crept into Suk-ja’s voice now than when she’d scolded Mun-jong and Jeong-eun a moment ago. Her voice carried something like resentment, as if all of this had happened because of Seong-ho.

“Isn’t it because of your husband that your father looks at your brother and sister this way? Before Kim Seong-ho came in, the family was quiet. Look at it now. Your second brother’s been thrown out of the company and lives as a jobless man… hoo.”

Growing emotional as she spoke, Suk-ja paused a moment to gather herself, then went on. “They say if you let one wrong person into the family, the whole household shakes and comes apart. It seems to be your husband they’re talking about.”

“Mom. It’s been over a year since we married — what’s the use of saying such things now?”

“Ten years, twenty years — I won’t change.”

Gyeong-eun felt her heart wrench at the sight of Suk-ja. She’d thought that with time, things would get a little better. She’d thought that as time passed, Suk-ja would come to accept Seong-ho as a son-in-law, as family. And in fact, Tak-hyeon had shown some measure of acknowledging him. But Suk-ja was different. If anything, the more time passed, the more she seemed to hate Seong-ho. Feeling her chest grow heavy, Gyeong-eun found herself wanting to leave the house.

Back in the study, Tak-hyeon sat on the sofa and gestured to Seong-ho, who’d followed him in.

“Close the door and sit.”

Seong-ho closed the door and carefully sat across from Tak-hyeon.

Tak-hyeon brought his hand to a cigarette and asked, “What do you think?”

Seong-ho understood at once what Tak-hyeon’s question meant.

“I think it would be best not to support either side.”

“Not support either one?”

Lighting the cigarette, Tak-hyeon looked at him, puzzled. “Not that we should support both, but that we shouldn’t support either?”

“Yes. I think that’s the stance we should take in this presidential election.”

It seemed such an unexpected answer that Tak-hyeon only smoked without a word for a while. Seong-ho waited as he smoked. When Tak-hyeon had smoked about half the cigarette, he spoke.

“When we had trouble over the president’s son, didn’t we promise support, and didn’t we give the money?”

“We did. On that occasion we handed out 20 billion to each of the two sides.”

“I think that’s where we should let it end.”

Tak-hyeon tapped the ash into the tray and looked at Seong-ho. “That was preliminary support. What we’d give them now is support for the actual presidential race itself. What we gave before can’t substitute for now.”

“I don’t mean it as a substitute.”

Seong-ho spoke his thinking to Tak-hyeon, still watching him with the cigarette at his lips. “There was a reason to support them then, but there’s no reason to support them now — that’s why I’m saying we needn’t do it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Blowing out a thickening stream of smoke, Tak-hyeon asked Seong-ho for a fuller explanation. At the request, Seong-ho spoke to him in a calm voice.

“The reason we fund each party’s presidential campaign is, on the small scale, hoping they’ll help us, and on the large scale, so that we suffer no harm. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Right. It’s money given so that once they take power, they won’t torment us. And if they help us on top of that, well, that’s good too…”

“Exactly.”

Seong-ho nodded and looked straight at Tak-hyeon. Then, with a faint smile at his lips, he said, “But what if it turns out that they can neither harm us nor help us? If anything, if the situation is one where we’re the ones who have to help them — wouldn’t there be no need to support them at all?”

“A situation where we have to help them? We help the government?”

“Yes. A situation will come where we must help the government — help the Republic of Korea itself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Chairman.”

At Seong-ho’s tone, Tak-hyeon stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and looked at him.

“A great wave is going to crash over Korea before long. No one will be safe in front of that wave. And the government that takes power, in particular, will find itself in serious difficulty.”

Seong-ho offered no evidence at all, yet his voice, full of conviction, carried the sense somehow that it truly would come to pass.

“When the wave crashes over Korea, the government will reach out its hand to us. Because we’ll be the only ones who can help save Korea. So treat this with an easy mind. We’ll draw resentment for not offering support, but it won’t last long. A short resentment will be followed by a long plea, so all we need do is support no one and simply watch the situation unfold.”

Tak-hyeon looked at Seong-ho, who’d finished speaking, still with his hand extended toward the ashtray.

(End of Chapter 84)