Chapter 107

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 107

Chapter Title: The Mayor's Advice

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Monday.

The most brutal torture device invented by humanity, its name is Monday.

The day you're forcibly shipped back from the sweet dream of the weekend to the hell of reality.

But I'm different. I'm Lee Garam.

Because whether it's Monday or Friday, I slack off just the same.

Isn't this true equality?

Spending every day of the week equally in laziness.

Even Marx would weep at this realization of an equal paradise.

I sank into the plush sofa in the mayor's office, with Nero curled up roundly on my lap.

Purr... purr...

This peaceful vibration.

There's research saying cat purrs contain frequencies that bring mental peace.

Thanks to that, the shock and horror of being crowned the revolutionaries' 'Advisor' over the weekend melted away.

Revolution? Overthrow? Who cares.

Those guys are shadows lurking underground anyway.

As long as I keep slacking off in the mayor's office, I won't run into them again.

What happened that day? Just chalk it up to a nightmare theme cafe experience.

"Nero, you look so happy."

Meow~

"Yeah. That's how to live. Eat, sleep, get adored. That's the true essence of life."

Meow~

"But why don't humans get this simple truth? Why do they bother working, competing, struggling for success?"

Meow.

Short and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠concise answer. Nero's wise as always.

Probably means 'That stuff's not worth thinking about.'

I picked up my smartphone and snapped a photo of Nero sleeping with the utmost peaceful expression.

Ugh. This perfect fluffball. This round cheek. Art.

Who should I show this to for maximum joy?

Seria? She'd just scold, 'Review one more document instead of taking cat pics.'

Jin Yeonhwa? She'd derail with, 'Wanna go hiking with the cat?'

So lonely. No one to share true cuteness with—such tragedy.

Just as my anguish deepened.

Ding.

I sat up like a zombie and checked my smartphone screen.

Probably a work bomb from Seria.

But the notification at the top was way off my guess.

My brain refused to boot for a second.

Freepol. Revolution. Council.

Friday night's nightmare flashed by.

No.

A revolutionary group with a group chat?

These overthrow-and-destroy types using orderly, convenient modern tech?

Contradiction. Self-denial. By their eternal revolution theory, shouldn't they smash this chat first?

I hit 'Leave' without hesitation.

Farewell, my brief revolutionary career.

Ding.

...What?

I hit 'Leave' again. Harder this time.

Ding.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

This repeated seven more times.

Persistent bastards.

Then a private message arrived. From Jeon Bokhui.

That chilling pressure in the smiley.

I hurriedly typed a reply.

Wait, don't escalate.

I gave up and joined the group chat.

Surrender can be courage. Especially when the opponent's an S-Rank villain and I'm just a salary slacker.

I tapped enter.

Cold sweat poured down.

No way.

If even one happens, cleanup's all on me.

Reports, budgets, complaints, press conferences.

Horrifying just thinking. My peaceful slacker life threatened.

Revolution schmevolution—no more work for me.

I hammered the keyboard frantically.

The chat went silent.

The chat fell silent at my declaration.

Too far?

Explosive reaction.

Sorry, Seoul Mayor.

But another's misfortune is my gain.

Good.

Urgent fire out.

But leave this revolutionary bunch alone, they might pull real terror someday.

If Gravity Zero flips the city? Cleanup's me.

One way: manage them myself.

New plan: drag into legal bounds, domesticate slowly.

How to keep them from heinous terror while building impeachment fodder like 'terrorist support' later?

Thus, I became Freepol Resistance's Advisor.

Or rather, got roped in.

Life's ironic.

Struggling for impeachment, end up brain of revolution org.

Anyway, as Advisor, I wielded mayoral power fully.

Yeah, contradiction.

But the world's a lump of them.

Me as mayor's the universe's biggest paradox.

I pressured Urban Design to make an old park a 'Citizen Free Expression Zone'.

Freepol members eagerly graffitied it.

Images of gravity-defying people, upside-down cities, disassembled clock towers in vivid colors.

Slogans like 'Flip Everything', 'Gravity is Illusion' covered walls.

Problem: it blew up on SNS.

#HipsterHolySite #NeoIncheonBanksy #InstaSpot

Unique style went viral, new tourist spot in Neo Incheon.

Tourists flocked.

Cafes opened. Souvenir shops. Food trucks lined up.

Revolution messages became photo ops, overthrow cries challenge backdrops.

Capitalism's scary.

Great system commodifying all resistance.

I had Insimdang deliver leftover bread and lunches to the meet spot.

'Free food, they'll chill for a bit.'

Spot on.

No full-bellied revolutionary.

Correction: full-bellied ones become napping slackers.

Carbs and sugar softened their zeal, gave satisfying fullness.

'That's just Sugargirl's special red bean bun.'

They shared excess with the needy.

Result: Freepol became slum heroes.

Terror group turns charity—magic.

I immediately pressured Admin Support HQ.

"Register a nonprofit civic group. Name... uh... 'Abalone Lovers'."

"Abalone Lovers? Acronym for what?"

"Group that loves overthrow."

"...Pardon?"

"No, sea... abalone! Fishermen support group!"

Even got subsidies.

Group vowing to overthrow system runs on system funds—paradox complete.

Anti-gov org born on gov budget.

All support traces link to me, Lee Garam.

Imagining the fallout when exposed—lips curl already.

Mayoral abuse, favoritism, budget embezzlement.

Impeachment gold. Perfect.

Their terror shifted too.

From smash-and-flip to performance-art messages.

Soon, peaceful afternoon.

Bored, I snapped Nero rolling on the office floor.

Paws tucked like glutinous rice cake, sleeping obliviously.

Can't hoard this cuteness.

Time to spread true adorbs to them.

Just that.

Really. No ulterior motive.

Just a cat dad's humble brag.

Beast? Just a cat.

No, just an ordinary(?) giant calico.

Thus, my cat Nero became the org's official mascot overnight.

I stared at Nero sprawled on the sofa, dumbfounded.

Meow?

The star clueless to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her elevated status.

Crunch. Munch. Nom nom.

The revolutionary beast chewed Seria's premium organic fish treats with the most capitalistic bliss.