Chapter 100

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 100

Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Trend

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Trend.

A hobby, ideology, or style commonly loved by people of an era.

The massive current dominating the times.

And the main culprit that turned my impeachment scenario into a scrap of tissue paper.

Wait. At least tissue paper is useful.

You can blow your nose or wipe away tears with it. It serves some minimal function.

But my impeachment plan? It didn't even function from the start. Worse than tissue paper.

I sank deep into the mayor's office sofa, staring blankly at the TV screen on the wall.

On the screen, a documentary in the style of Human Theater was playing.

The camera captured the bustling kitchen of a sashimi restaurant.

As the camera zoomed in, Elder Genji's face, topped with a white sanitary cap, filled the screen. His black reverse eyes gleamed eerily under the lights, yet shone with the stubborn pride of a craftsman somewhere.

Documentary 'On-Site Life' - The Delivery Man in the Shadows

Next, Shizuka Kurokumo was seen leaping over a stone wall with a pizza box in hand.

Old memories probably mean her assassin days, right?

No. That's not cool. That's just an old assassin's habit.

After her interview, subtitles like 'Ruler of the Dawn' and 'Silent Powerhouse' flashed by with grand sound effects.

Beep-

I pressed the remote's power button.

My dazed face reflected on the darkened screen.

"Aaaahhh!"

I screamed. I wailed.

Ruin. Catastrophe.

The final cries of a once-ordinary everyman's soul crumbling before absurdity.

"Keep it down. Your hideous screams are echoing all the way to the end of the quiet hallway, Mayor."

A cold voice pierced my eardrum.

Seria was standing beside me before I knew it.

I had no idea when she'd entered.

Three minutes ago? Five? Or had she been here from the start?

Her stealth was scarier than the Kurokumo clan's.

In her hand was the usual tablet PC proving my failures.

"Hideous? This is the sound of a human soul collapsing! Existential anguish!"

"Such lofty words don't exist in the mayor's vocabulary. Did you just search it on the internet?"

Damn. Busted.

"Shut up! What's that?!"

I pointed at Seria's tablet screen.

A couple was gazing at each other with honey-dripping eyes.

"A romantic video."

Seria replied dryly.

"The woman is an ordinary office worker, and the man is a young Kurokumo clansman. Apparently, he confessed after watching Persona Heart. All thanks to the mayor's good deeds."

"I told you it's not good deeds! This is a disaster! A disaster!"

"It seems the desire for a ninja boyfriend or girlfriend has awakened the frozen love cells of our youth. International marriages are rising too."

"International marriages too!?"

My self-destruct plan had failed once again—on a grand, flashy, nationwide scale.

My noble plan to get impeached over the ninja scandal had morphed into a 'heartwarming human romance drama' thanks to 'National Ninja' Yuuta's tearful love confession.

Seria swiped the screen.

And SNS was shrouded in black clouds too.

A beauty influencer was introducing the latest trend item.

The model's reverse-eye colored lenses gleamed on screen—jet-black sclera and pure-white pupils.

Commercialized? The killer ghost eyes as a hip fashion item?

The black reverse eyes, symbol of the Kurokumo clan.

Eyes that should symbolize terror were now icons for 'hipsters' and 'in-crowd' types.

Why is my photocard included!?

Kurokumo-style clothes and reverse-eye circle lenses swept through trends in an instant.

The streets were full of young people with black sclera and white pupils strutting about.

Every eye contact felt chilling, like my heart would stop.

"Mayor, take a look at this too."

Seria swiped again.

Next screen.

Young Kurokumo children in school uniforms performing sword formations.

At the end, flawless flips, shuriken throws hitting bullseyes.

Views: 5.82 million.

"What... what is this..."

I banged my head on the desk.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

This is a dream. A horrific nightmare. Please wake me up.

Ding~

Ah, that ominous electronic tone.

"Mayor. Just in time—a approval from the Citizen Welfare Bureau. More good news."

"I don't want to hear any more good news. Please bring bad news. Like city hall burning down or a meteor strike. Heartwarming stuff like that."

"Regrettably, it's the exact opposite of what you wish for."

"Stop, stop... My life is already zero..."

"It's the additional relocation request from the Kurokumo clan."

Seria continued her report without a hint of agitation.

"Your 'Multicultural Family Settlement Support Program' has been explosively successful, drawing Kurokumo clansmen scattered overseas to Neo Incheon. They're especially moved by your non-discriminatory inclusion policy. Already over 150."

"Wha... what?"

"Clansmen hidden in places like various parts of Japan, Shanghai in China, Busan in Korea are flocking to Neo Incheon. They call it the 'Promised Land' and compare you to 'Savior Moses'."

"Moses? Why am I Moses! I'm the Pharaoh who wanted to enslave them!"

Seria's tablet showed dozens of documents.

Remnants from Japan, China, even a fishing village in Busan, Korea.

Seeing Yuuta's success, they're gathering in Neo Incheon. Not the American Dream, but Neo Incheon Dream!

"Anyway, our city's workforce has grown. What a remarkable achievement in this low-birth, aging era."

"No..."

"Ninja village experiences, Kuroichi maid cafes, Kurokumo streets... New cultural content for Neo Incheon. The tourism board has officially proposed collaboration. Ninja arts classes, shuriken-throwing experiences. Urban planning is reviewing 'Neo Incheon Ninja Town'."

"No! Don't! Don't do it!"

"Already approved."

"By whose authority!"

"Thanks to them, vacancy rates in old-town rental apartments dropped. Their cluster living formed a 'Little Kyoto'-like village, now a tourist spot. Local commerce is booming too."

"Kaaahhh!"

The final screen Seria showed.

A spread of news headlines.

The Black Cloud clan.

Just like their name, casting dark clouds only over my future.

And among them, one line stabbing my eyes especially.

"Moon Hyeji! Even you!"

How did a truth-seeking justice reporter become a mouthpiece for power!?

"Ha... haha... hahaha..."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

One thing was certain.

My pro-Japan traitor project had devolved into a multicultural inclusion project.

Who said giving up is easy?

Lies.

Not easy at all.

Utterly unpleasant. Viciously so.

For days, I sprawled on the sofa in total resignation.

My ninja scandal self-destruct had been perfectly packaged as a 'grand epic of love and tolerance', etched into history as a beautiful tale.

Failure. A textbook failure. Epic fail.

What could I do now?

Grab a passerby and confess I'm the villain who planned ninja assassinations?

They'd just shake their heads: "Mayor, read too many comics?" This city's positivity circuits are overloaded.

As I mourned my political life's extension, staring blankly out the window—

"Playing dead, Mayor?"

"The dead don't speak. I'm a corpse now. Don't make me talk."

"Your corpse speaks quite well. Must've awakened the superpower of detached brain and tongue. Congratulations."

"Don't mock me!"

"Mayor. Guests from Japan."

"Guests? No thanks. Send them back. I'm in self-quarantine."

Not COVID, but what self-quarantine?

I'm infected with the success plague, needing isolation to contain this scary virus that turns everything I touch to gold. Noble sacrifice, isn't it?

"Regrettably, can't send back mail-order guests. International express."

Thud-

Seria placed a thick document folder on the table, stamped with Japan's Foreign Ministry seal.

"Japan? What business do they have with me? Not giving me some 'Harmony Award' for sheltering the Kurokumo, right?"

"Similar but opposite. Not praise—condemnation. Not an award—protest letter."

Seria plucked a sheet and waved it before my eyes.

"Demand for immediate repatriation of the Kurokumo clan."

"Repatriation? They discarded them, I recycled, now they claim ownership? Missing the conscience part in assembly?"

Seria recited dryly like reading a textbook.

Japan's stance: Kurokumo are Japanese criminals—send back now. Korea hiding criminals violates international law. Blah blah.

"Especially fierce demand for Kurokumo Genji. Japan classifies him as an A-rank villain for 547 assassinations, planning Interpol red notice. Also claims Korea stole ninja culture, twisting it into K-Ninja—cultural appropriation."

"Culture? Murder tech as heritage? Then I'm a walking corruption set—national tainted asset?"

I swatted the documents irritably.

Finally, the bomb exploded.

But too late. Kurokumo rooted in Neo Incheon.

Trees now. Mighty trees. A forest. Little Kyoto forest.

Japan's noise changes nothing. It'll just stir anti-Japan sentiment, boosting my approval.

Success again. Damn it.

"So, what now? Ignore as usual?"

I closed my eyes without answering Seria's question.

Yeah. Ignore it.

The noise will fade soon, unable to scratch my great success saga.

...Wait.

Ignore?

A faint spark flickered in my darkened brain cells.

"Seria. What did you say earlier? About Elder Genji?"

"547 assassinations—super criminal."

"More details. The legendary assassin part."

"Yes. Actual legendary assassin, though retired. Unerasable past. Intel says his hit list includes businessmen, politicians, yakuza, even heroes and villains. Prime days equivalent to A-rank."

Seria listed facts calmly.

Each word hammered into my mind.

Legend.

Assassin.

A-rank villain.

The words swirled, forming a perfect picture.

I bolted up.

Madness reignited in my resigned eyes.

"Ha... haha..."

Laughter burst out. From chuckles to uncontrollable guffaws.

"Mayor. Finally lost it? Overwhelmed by undue success, makes sense."

"No, Seria! Not madness! Enlightenment!"

I shouted like hit by Newton's apple.

"Japan's helping me! They're my saviors! My redeemer comes from the east!"

"From the east came a protest letter, not a savior."

"Listen! Press conference now! Firmly reject Japan's demands! 'Neo Incheon won't yield a single citizen!'"

"And then?"

"Then? Nothing! Wait! Until Japan explodes everything in rage!"

"Entrusting fate to others? So like you. Utterly irresponsible and lazy."

Yes.

This is heaven-sent last chance.

Think about it.

I only exposed them as 'ninjas'.

No proof they were killers.

Most except Genji and Shizuka are clean citizens.

Trained, but no kills—ordinary youth.

Real vicious assassins already jailed by Japan.

Neo Incheon's are just refugees seeking life.

Ignore Japan's demand?

They won't sit idle.

They'll flood media with evidence.

'Kurokumo Genji: Proof of 547 Kills Exposed!'

'Lee Garam Shelters A-Rank Villain!'

'Korea Protects International Criminals!'

Appeal globally, release docs—with official Japanese backing.

Seria eyed me pitifully, then picked up the receiver.

"PR office? Yes, mayor wants press conference. In 30 minutes. Briefing room main building. Content... 'Patriotic Performance'."

Japan's handing me Pandora's box officially.

Shivers ran through me just imagining.

This time. For real.

30 minutes later.

I took the podium amid a barrage ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of camera flashes.

"Hello. Neo Incheon Mayor Lee Garam."

I read my prepared speech with grave expression.

"Today, I stand here with a heavy heart. Neighboring Japan's government has made an unjust demand gravely infringing on Neo Incheon's sovereignty."

The room buzzed.

"They demand repatriation of the Kurokumo clan, who settled here starting new lives, citing cultural appropriation. This is blatant interference in internal affairs and inhuman disregard for human dignity!"

I slammed the podium with my fist.

Bang!

The mic screeched.

Screeech-

Seeming mistake, but calculated. To seem overcome by emotion.

"I declare here: Neo Incheon will not yield a single citizen to external pressure! They are no longer Japan's shadows—they are Neo Incheon's shining citizens!"

Woooah-!

Applause and cheers erupted from reporters.

'As expected of the mayor!'

'Refreshing!'

'Long live Korea!'

Such gazes poured onto the stage.

I exited with a satisfied smile.

Patriotism. Koreans' button is simple. Bash Japan, get applause. Anti-Japan beats kimchi for Korean-ness.

Performance perfect.

My independence fighter descendant DNA shone.

Bait cast.

Now, they just need to bite.

Next morning.

I lounged on the sofa munching potato chips, channel-surfing news.

As expected, Japan reacted instantly.

Outrageous. Pot calling kettle black.

True. I'm the thief. Ninja thief.

Screen switched to Japan's PM residence briefing.

A skinny bespectacled man shook documents with a fierce glare.

Here it comes!

I jumped up.

Screen filled with close-ups of names and photos Genji allegedly killed.

Politicians, tycoons, yakuza bosses, even heroes and villains.

I tossed chips in the air, cheering.

"Yes! Yes! That's it!"

Media ignited like oil-poured fire.

Every channel spewed breaking news.

Turn on TV: my face next to Genji's black-and-white photo.

Two faces?

No. I have one face. The impeach-me face. My only face.

"Kuhahaha! Perfect! Perfect development!"

I crossed my legs in the chair, bursting into laughter.

Angry citizens' chants echoed outside.

Wait... no 'step down' chants? Just repent and forgiven?

Opposing chants rose.

City hall plaza: condemnation protests vs. support protests, grabbing collars.

Arguments evenly matched.

Love or justice.

Past or present.

Dating or life.

I stood at the window, gazing down at the chaos in satisfaction.