The Inspector Is Getting Promoted! [EN]: Chapter 211

“Damn it!”

Choi Gyu-hyun slammed his fist on the desk, the impact turning his palm red and causing his arm to tremble.

He was furious, but Bulgom [nickname for Jung Seung-min, meaning ‘Bear’] Jung Seung-min, couldn’t offer a word of comfort or a solution. He could only bow his head, careful not to further provoke Choi Gyu-hyun.

Three days before the election, Kyung Dong-soo had held a nationally televised press conference to announce Choi Seo-jun’s appointment as chief prosecutor, and the appointment had been carried out yesterday.

Even Choi Gyu-hyun felt powerless to intervene.

Any public outcry from the Daehan Party at this point risked backfiring, potentially swaying the already tight election results. He had already conceded a significant portion of his approval ratings to the Minguk Party and the Manse Party, a calculated sacrifice to damage Choi Seo-jun in the Jang Young-soon disappearance case.

While his chances of winning remained high, a misstep now could be disastrous.

Thanks to Han Ji-yu’s interview, public sentiment and sympathy for Choi Seo-jun were at an all-time high, making him untouchable, even for Choi Gyu-hyun.

More importantly, Choi Seo-jun was still unconscious in the hospital. Any attack against him now would be seen as utterly reprehensible.

He sighed deeply and looked up.

“Seung-min.”

“Yes, Candidate.”

“If Choi Seo-jun remains unconscious, there’s no procedural obstacle to removing him, citing the vacancy in the chief prosecutor’s position and the resulting instability, correct?”

“That’s correct. Procedurally, there’s no issue, but public opinion is another matter…”

“Then, how long must pass before the public would accept such a move?”

Bulgom quickly calculated.

“At least two months.”

“Two months?”

“Yes. Even if the election is held tomorrow, there’s a one-month handover period, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Even if he remains unconscious for a month, dismissing him immediately after you take office as president would be poorly received. Waiting at least another month after that would make it somewhat acceptable to appoint a new chief prosecutor, under the pretext that the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office is not functioning properly…”

Choi Gyu-hyun couldn’t deny the logic.

“To think I’m constrained even after winning the presidency…” Choi Gyu-hyun felt a surge of bitterness.

All he could do was hope that Choi Seo-jun would remain unconscious for at least two months, or, ideally, never wake up at all.

“What are the chances of him waking up?”

“Fifty-fifty.”

“And even if he does wake up, his recovery will take a considerable amount of time, right?”

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky…”

Bulgom glanced at his tablet PC.

“According to the hospital, Choi Seo-jun’s body is recovering at an unusually rapid pace. If he wakes up from the coma, he could be discharged within two months.”

“Two months, with ruptured organs?”

“Yes. It’s less than a 1% chance, but such rapid recoveries do occur. The fact that his organs were evenly damaged, rather than one being completely shattered, actually improves his chances of recovery.”

“Hmm…” Choi Gyu-hyun pressed his temples, a headache building.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind.

“Seung-min, what if…”

Bulgom immediately understood Choi Gyu-hyun’s implication, recognizing the dangerous glint in his eyes. He was considering resuming their plan while Choi Seo-jun was still hospitalized.

Despite Choi Gyu-hyun’s desires, Bulgom knew he had to dissuade him. Attacking Choi Seo-jun in the current climate was far too risky.

More importantly, it would be tantamount to admitting their guilt in Jang Young-soon’s death.

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Right?” Because of the high stakes, Choi Gyu-hyun quickly conceded.

“I suppose we can’t touch this one.”

“Yes, let’s just hope Choi Seo-jun doesn’t wake up.”

“Yes. I’ll report any changes in Choi Seo-jun’s condition immediately.”

“Alright.”

***

On the day of the momentous 21st presidential election, the public’s attention, which had briefly shifted to Choi Seo-jun and Han Ji-yu, returned to the political arena.

People were focused on whether Choi Gyu-hyun, with his commanding 40% approval rating, would secure the presidency as predicted, or if the Minguk Party would stage a last-minute upset.

However, amidst all the political fervor, one woman remained indifferent. Her sole focus was protecting her husband in the intensive care unit.

Han Ji-yu, who had never missed an election since gaining the right to vote, couldn’t bring herself to go to the polls. Her mind was consumed by Choi Seo-jun’s well-being.

Han Ji-yu’s once vibrant face was now pale and drawn. She held her husband’s hand tightly, praying for him to wake up.

She had lost all track of time in the hospital room. The sun had long set, and only ten minutes remained in the intensive care unit’s visiting hours.

The election had closed, and vote counting was underway, but Han Ji-yu was oblivious. She simply didn’t care.

“Oppa [term of endearment for an older brother or male friend], you don’t have to do anything, just please wake up…”

As she prayed with all her heart, tears streaming down her face, she felt a faint movement in her hand, the one holding Choi Seo-jun’s.

Han Ji-yu froze, staring intently at Choi Seo-jun’s hand.

Three seconds passed.

Choi Seo-jun’s index finger twitched.

Han Ji-yu questioned her senses, but she was certain she hadn’t imagined it.

Her eyes, which had been dull with despair, began to sparkle with hope.

“Oh, oh?”

This time, Choi Seo-jun’s index and middle fingers moved in unison.

Han Ji-yu jumped up and rushed out of the room, shouting, “Nurse, nurse!”

She burst out of the intensive care unit and called out towards the front desk. “Nurse! Doctor! Please…”

A doctor making rounds heard Han Ji-yu’s frantic cries and hurried over. “What’s wrong?”

“My husband… my husband’s finger moved!”

The doctor didn’t hesitate and rushed into Choi Seo-jun’s room.

Han Ji-yu followed, clasping her hands together, stamping her feet, and praying with her eyes closed.

After a moment, the doctor’s voice broke through her concentration.

“Mr. Choi Seo-jun, can you hear me?”

Han Ji-yu opened her eyes and turned towards Choi Seo-jun.

His eyes were open.

He, who had been unconscious for days, had finally opened his eyes.

“If you can hear me, blink twice.”

Choi Seo-jun blinked twice, slowly but deliberately.

The doctor smiled with relief and turned to Han Ji-yu. “We’ll need to run more tests, but it appears he’s fully awake. His pulse is also stable…”

“Ah…” Han Ji-yu smiled, her hands pressed against her chest.

A smile brighter than ever, a mixture of relief, joy, and pure happiness.

***

“It has been confirmed that there is no problem with cognitive function, and fortunately, the nerves that we were worried about have not been damaged.”

“Thank you, thank you so much. Thank you for your hard work.” Han Ji-yu bowed repeatedly to the doctor.

“No, it’s Madam who has endured so much heartache,” the attending physician said with a contented smile.

“We’ll be able to safely remove the oxygen respirator tomorrow, and soon we’ll be able to move him from the intensive care unit to a regular patient room.”

“I really don’t know how to repay you…”

“No, it’s an honor to be able to treat such a national hero as a citizen of the Republic of Korea.” He smiled proudly and leaned closer to Han Ji-yu, lowering his voice. “And I’ve already informed the administration that Madam can stay in the hospital room tonight, so you don’t have to go home.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way…” Han Ji-yu bowed politely, and the doctor nodded with a pleased expression before leaving the room.

Choi Seo-jun was still wearing an oxygen respirator, but his eyes were fixed on Han Ji-yu, filled with more love than ever before.

He slowly raised his arm, and Han Ji-yu took his hand in both of hers, holding it tightly.

“Thank you for waking up.”

“…”

Choi Seo-jun mumbled something, but Han Ji-yu couldn’t hear him clearly.

“What?” Han Ji-yu leaned closer to his face.

Choi Seo-jun took a deep breath and said, “Why are you so thin?”

His hand gently stroked Han Ji-yu’s cheek.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“That’s why you should have woken up sooner…”

“…Love.”

“What?” When Han Ji-yu leaned in again, Choi Seo-jun’s voice was clearer.

“I love you.”

Han Ji-yu finally broke down in tears and embraced Choi Seo-jun.

***

“Choi Seo-jun woke up?” Choi Gyu-hyun sighed.

He was, undeniably, the winner. In today’s presidential election, he had won with a resounding 44.4% of the vote, surpassing Minguk Party’s Assemblyman Jo Hyun-woong by more than 10% and securing the position of the 22nd President of the Republic of Korea.

However, the media wasn’t solely focused on him; they were also giving significant coverage to Choi Seo-jun’s awakening from his coma.

His grand plan to ascend to the throne had succeeded, but…

“It doesn’t feel like I’ve won, even though I have.”

Bulgom Jung Seung-min approached him, offering a glass of champagne as if to console him. “Forget your worries and enjoy the moment. No matter what happened to anyone else, today’s protagonist in the Republic of Korea is Candidate… no, Mr. President.”

Choi Gyu-hyun’s displeasure eased slightly at the sound of “President.”

“Yes, I should.” He raised the champagne glass, condensation dripping down the side, and drank it in one gulp.

However, the cold champagne did little to alleviate his frustration.

The uneasy feeling that had settled in a corner of Choi Gyu-hyun’s heart throughout the day refused to dissipate.

***

July 2025.

On a day when the sweltering heat was already building, I finally returned to work at the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office after a long absence.

I wore the custom suit that Han Ji-yu had given me as a gift.

“Hello.”

“Oh, good morning.”

I parted the crowd like the miracle of Moses and entered the elevator.

There was no one above me in the Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office, or anywhere else for that matter.

I rode the elevator to the 13th floor, the highest floor among the prosecutor’s offices, except for the 14th and 15th floors, where the interrogation rooms were located.

I couldn’t have been more satisfied.

“Hello.”

Yoon Seol-ha and Jo Ah-ra greeted me as if they had been waiting.

“I’m glad you look healthy.”

“Have you been well?”

“I’ve been doing well because there was no boss, but I think I’ll have a hard time starting today,” Yoon Seol-ha joked.

I brushed off her comment lightly. “I know. But it seems like you got promoted thanks to that person.”

“So, I’m going to work hard.”

We burst into laughter, neither of us knowing who started it first.

“Let’s go in. Everything is ready.”

“Yes.”

I straightened my shoulders and opened the office door with more confidence than ever.