Chapter 113

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: penny

Chapter: 113

Chapter Title: Mayor and Welfare

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The next day.

Neo Incheon City Hall briefing room.

Click. Click. Click.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of camera lenses flashed all at once toward a single point.

And at the center of all that light...

stood me.

"Ahem."

I cleared my throat lightly into the microphone.

The standard opener for a politician on stage. The signal to begin.

To my left and right stood two living fossils... no, living legends of this city, holding their positions steadfastly.

To my right was Chairman Shim Mugang of the Bankruptcy Sword. The unidentified medals dangling from his military uniform spoke volumes of his life.

To my left was Vice Chairman Nagi Tae of the Ironless Sword Ghost. His grim, tightly shut mouth and the scars etched across his body were proof of history in themselves.

Today's stars were these two.

I was merely a cunning schemer riding on their glory to achieve my goals.

A faded black-and-white photo appeared on the screen behind us.

"Not long ago, I met the living history of this city."

My voice echoed through the room, solemn, dignified, and utterly convincing.

"In the coal mines of Germany, the jungles of Vietnam, the deserts of the Middle East... I met the heroes who forged today's Korea with their bare bodies."

The screen changed.

Static crackle—

Faded film footage. A young Shim Mugang swung his sword through the jungle.

Shwing—!

One slash of sword energy, and Viet Cong villain bases exploded in a chain reaction!

A young Shim Mugang strode out against the backdrop of explosions. A perfect Hollywood action scene.

"Behold. This is Elder Shim Mugang of the Bankruptcy Sword. The legendary hero who bankrupted villains of both their fortunes and their lives!"

The reporters' fingers hammered their keyboards furiously.

The screen switched again.

This time, a sandstorm-whipped desert.

A young Vice Chairman Nagi Tae, shirtless, charged at a massive sandworm with his ironless sword raised.

Unrefined. Macho. The ultimate alpha male.

"This is Elder Nagi Tae of the Ironless Sword Ghost. The pioneer who shattered the sandworm's iron-hard shell with a single sword and paved a highway through the Middle East!"

Next, the screen panned through faded footage of dozens of other elderly heroes in action.

"But it's not just them. Right now, at this very moment, all the elders of Neo Incheon living quietly out of sight are the true architects of modern Korea! Without their sweat and tears, we wouldn't have today's prosperity or even ourselves!"

Logical leap? Overgeneralization?

Doesn't matter! That's the whole point.

The basics of demagoguery: appeal to emotion. Logic is just garnish.

The key is one thing only: striking the hearts of the listeners.

"But what have we done for them? How have we repaid their noble sacrifices?"

I paused, scanning the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠room.

Everyone stared at my mouth, holding their breath. Perfectly hooked.

"What is their reality now? Far from respect or gratitude, they endure harsh old age in isolation and neglect. It's time for us to give back!"

Of course, I'm not the one paying that debt.

It's this city's young people. Collateralized against your futures. Heh heh heh.

As expected, a young reporter shot her hand up.

"Mayor! Do you have a concrete plan for funding? I hear the city's finances aren't exactly flush!"

Here it comes. Been waiting.

"Welfare is always a matter of priorities."

I answered firmly.

"Today, I intend to set those priorities straight. Even if it means cutting flashy publicity projects! Even if it means slashing inefficient administrative budgets! I will secure the funds. Here and now, I declare support for our elders as my top priority!"

By cutting elsewhere. By sacrificing something else.

How irresponsible and magnificent. I could almost hear the impeachment charges piling up.

"From today, Neo Incheon will be a city where the elderly are happy!"

Roooar—!

Thunderous applause shook the briefing room.

"Mayor... thank you so much..."

"To think there's such a fine young man..."

Tears glistened in the elders' eyes.

Hah. Such innocents.

Clueless that they're pawns in my impeachment scheme.

*

A few days later.

My Brutus Project proceeded swimmingly.

City council budget review.

Sitting across from me were old councilors with an average age of 59.3.

"This councilor fully supports Mayor Lee Garam's 'Elder Happiness Promotion Special Budget Bill'!"

Councilor Kim, hair streaked with white, sprang up and shouted. Age? About 67. He's a beneficiary himself.

"Right! It's long overdue!"

Councilor Park, 71. Beneficiary.

"The era of neglecting elders is over!"

Councilor Choi, 69. Obviously a beneficiary.

Ah, this beautiful alignment of interests!

Over half the council seats nodded in unison like they'd rehearsed.

One young councilor in the corner hesitated to speak, stood awkwardly, but sat back down under the barrage of glares.

Yes, stay quiet like that.

This is democracy's reality: the power of the silver wave.

The budget passed overwhelmingly.

And a few days after that.

"What the hell? The government's just giving out a million won?"

"Voice phishing? Ain't no such thing as free money!"

"Says it's from city hall? From Mayor Lee Garam?"

A million won in cash suddenly appeared in the bank accounts of elders who'd never received a dime from the government their whole lives.

They stood baffled in front of ATMs, checking their balances over and over.

The superpowered medical center was packed from dawn.

"My arthritis is gone! I can bound up stairs now!"

Elders hopped up the hospital stairs like rabbits.

"Cataract surgery for free! The world's so bright!"

Upgraded from HD to 4K vision.

Freed from nagging age-related ills, the elders ran joyfully through the halls like kids.

And at the senior centers.

"Oho! So this is VR!"

A grandpa in the latest VR goggles punched the air.

"Aigoo, what's this massage chair? Heaven itself!"

Top-tier massage chairs—ten per center.

And in one corner, bread piled mountain-high.

Sugar Girl of Insimdang's special "Denture Bread."

"Heh heh, this bread's flavor is unreal."

"Whew, so sweet and tasty."

"Wish I'd bought some like this for the old man before he passed. Regret, pure regret."

The moment a grandpa bit into a cream bun.

"...!"

His eyes fixed on empty air.

Pupils dilated. Focus gone.

As if seeing another world.

"D-dear...? Why're you here? Ferryman! I ain't dead yet! Begone!"

The grandma next to him eating red bean bread suddenly pointed at the ceiling.

"Aigoo! There's my old fart waving! Hey, you! I ain't going yet!"

Elders scarfing Sugar Girl's power-packed bread nearly booked one-way tickets to the afterlife with their reactions.

But they craved Insimdang bread even more—to glimpse lost spouses, even briefly.

*

The elder welfare policy was a roaring success.

A massive success.

And that was the problem.

No more sprawlers in the city hall complaint office.

Instead, they swarmed my office.

"Mayor! My back's cured thanks to you!"

"Mayor! More grateful than to my grandkids!"

"You're our savior! Lifesaver!"

Hands full of Bacchus, hotteok soup, ginseng tonics.

My office turned into a health food warehouse overnight.

Problems weren't solved. Just reshaped.

From complaints to thanks. Screams to cheers.

Still noisy and chaotic.

I had to escape this endless gratitude loop.

One way: give them new hobbies. Far more fun and addictive than visiting city hall.

First targets: Swordmaster Alumni Association elders.

I appointed them mentors for the "New Hero Mentoring Program."

In truth, a mental torture program: park young heroes beside them for two hours of endless "Back in my day..." yarns.

Footage from the PR team's promo video played on my office monitor.

In the video.

My B-rank hero Polaris Hancia listened wide-eyed to Chairman Shim Mugang's tales.

[Beautiful intergenerational knowledge transfer! Elders aiding young heroes' growth!]

Embarrassing subtitles overlaid her soulless expression.

Thus, with a few young heroes sacrificed, peace returned to city hall.

Heroes exist to sacrifice, after all. Can't be helped. Elders need someone to talk to. Mmm.

Next, second target.

True underclass: elders scavenging recyclables.

Hard day's work for barely ten thousand won.

Handouts are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠temporary.

Time to teach them not fish, but how to fish anew.

21st-century innovative elder jobs.

My prescription: this.

"Alright, elders! From today, farm gold in games instead of scrap!"

"Gold? Games give gold? Weird."

"No, no! Not that gold! Gold farming means earning cash through games, elders!"

I dispatched gold farming experts to every senior center in Neo Incheon.

"Hunting monsters on screen and selling drops is called gold farming."

A recently unemployed young instructor explained earnestly.

"Selling that game gold for cash to other players is gold selling."

Initially baffled elders lit up at real money proof.

"Paper scraps cheaper than that skull bone?"

"Cart all day for ten thousand won tops, but that makes it in an hour?"

Yes.

Scrap scavenging vs. gold farming.

Physical labor vs. finger labor.

20th century vs. 21st.

Choice obvious.

After that day, carts gave way to smartphones in elder hands; senior centers became PC bangs.

But an unexpected side effect(?).

Elders evolved into gold price guardian comment squads.

All smooth sailing.

Swordmaster Alumni Hall.

I returned with custom-ordered gifts.

"Elders, brought presents."

"Oho, what now from the mayor?"

"No more scary swords in public. Use these instead."

I handed Chairman Shim Mugang an elegant wooden cane.

"Heh heh, treating this old man like an invalid. I ain't cane-age yet."

Shim laughed heartily, taking it.

"Watch."

I gripped the handle and pulled.

Shick—!

Smooth friction, and a gleaming blade emerged from within.

Hero-grade alloy gear. Razor-sharp assassin's dagger.

Alumni elders' eyes bulged.

"Ooh...!"

"Straight out of a spy flick!"

I smiled warmly.

"Use as a gentlemanly cane daily. Draw only in emergencies. Practical and discreet, right?"

In reality, a savvy political move to dilute their "dangerous armed group" image by keeping fearsome swordmasters low-profile.

But elders were thrilled like kids with new toys.

Vice Chairman Nagi Tae swung his cane-sword around, grinning.

"Kuh, quality piece. Fits like a glove."

I took identical ones to the Kurakumo clan's abode.

Elder Genji greeted me.

"Genji-gong. For you."

Handed him a katana-form cane-sword.

Genji took it with trembling hands.

He drew the blade, then knelt in.

"Lee Garam-dono...! Such grace upon this lowly one...! Kurakumo Genji pledges this body once more to his daimyo! Whose neck shall I sever with this? Councilor? Tycoon?"

"N-no, no need to sever necks... It's just for self-defense!"

Does he just wanna slice someone? Tuna all day got his hands itchy?

Scary assassin clan! Who settled these killers in the city?!