[Choice Times=Sun-Young Park, former Chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission]

Even now, I think it was such a waste. I can’t ask for it back, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

In March 2015, I received the Yu Gwan-sun Award, an honor far beyond what I deserved. It felt overwhelmingly excessive, and I accepted it with nothing but gratitude.

At the time, a lawmaker identified here asMs. Lee, who was serving as chair of the Yu Gwan-sun Memorial Foundation, called me. Before picking up the phone, I did not even know that she was the chair of the foundation. The presenter of the award had been Ahn Hee-jung, then governor of South Chungcheong Province, so I had no reason to know.

On the phone, she said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the award ceremony because I had another schedule. Let’s have a meal together.” So we met.

Ms. Lee and I had served together during the 18th National Assembly, and she was also a woman recruited by former party leader Lee Hoi-chang. We naturally shared various stories, and the atmosphere was friendly.

Then, all of a sudden, she said this:

“Somehow I ended up taking charge of the Yu Gwan-sun Memorial Foundation, but the finances are in really bad shape.”

I was taken aback. Yu Gwan-sun—‘Sister Yu Gwan-sun’—is a nationally revered anti-Japanese independence activist, known to every citizen of South Korea. And yet, even after being honored as a martyr, her memorial foundation was struggling financially?

I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t accept it. And inwardly, I felt anger rise, thinking, “No wonder Sister Yu Gwan-sun disappears from textbooks even after being elevated to martyr status.”

The last words of Yu Gwan-sun that I hold most deeply in my heart came to mind:

“The only sorrow of this young girl is that she has but one life to give to her country.”

That thought made my anger burn even hotter.

So I spoke rather boldly.

“But why is there a prize of as much as ten million won? The Yu Gwan-sun Award is honorable enough simply by being awarded. Please don’t send the prize money to me. Use it instead to promote the legacy of the martyr.”

She replied that this was not possible. The payment was fixed by regulation and had to be disbursed.

In the end, I told her that once the prize money was deposited into my account, I would return it. I was given the foundation’s bank account number.

To be honest,Mulmangcho, the organization I was involved with, was also struggling at the time, and I had thought that if the money came in, I might put it there. But without any hesitation, I boldly said I would return it.

A few days later, I saw that about 8.5 million won had been deposited into my account after taxes. I added my own money to make it an even 10 million won and sent it to the foundation.

And then I forgot about it. Or rather, I let it slip from my mind.

I never went around telling people that I had received the Yu Gwan-sun Award in the first place. How could I then go around saying that I had returned the prize money—adding my own money on top of it?

But now, that money feels painfully wasted.

I hear that her personal assets amount to a staggering 17.5 billion won. Isn’t it normal for someone who serves as the chair of such a memorial foundation to spend their own money? Even alumni association presidents do that—how much more so when one takes charge of a foundation bearing the name of a national patriot?

To summon an award recipient, complain about financial hardship, and make them hand the money back—this may sound sinful to say, but I want that 10 million won back now, even belatedly, so I can give it to Mulmangcho.

That woman has never donated even ten thousand won to Mulmangcho. So what on earth was I doing?

With rusty red water coming out of the taps, elevators breaking down so often that we had to walk up to the ninth floor again and again… give me my money back.

If I said that, would she respond like this?

“Hey! Didn’t you understand what I said? Is your IQ in the single digits? I wish you were dead.”

One last word.

Stop dragging the conservative camp through the mud and resign voluntarily—now. They chose you, and chose you again, precisely so they could pin all the blame on “the conservatives.”

Do you really think they didn’t know about your past flaws when they nominated you as a ministerial candidate? That kind of scheming is something conservatives could never pull off, even if they tried. The more the People Power Party digs into you during the confirmation hearings, the more they will laugh and enjoy it.