Chapter 121
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Alley
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How sweet and sacred is the word "weekend."
One could fill an entire book debating the profound value weekends bestow upon humanity.
Liberation from labor. Freedom from obligation.
The inviolable right to wake when you want, eat when you want, and do absolutely nothing when you want.
Paradise on earth, granted only to those who have endured a weeklong march of hardship.
The Sabbath for modern humans burdened with the original sin of work.
That's how it should be.
Or at least, how it was supposed to be.
"Haa..."
My golden Saturday had been replaced by the utterly communistic phrase "People's Party investigation."
I have to go out. I have to work. I can't rest.
"If you help me with this one thing, I'll overlook that bowl of seolleongtang you ate."
The mentally fragile girl had said that if I went with her to Seoul to investigate the knockoff shop, she'd forgive the sin of the seolleongtang.
Forgiveness? Sin?
Why does eating a bowl of seolleongtang I bought with my own money count as a sin needing absolution?
Aren't rice and white rice the staples for Koreans? Isn't eating rice made from rice a basic human right for the rice-loving race?
But what can I do? The balance of power has already tipped in her favor.
So this is the heavy price for betraying the trust between business partners.
Plodding along.
My footsteps felt like a thousand pounds each.
The meeting spot: the plaza in front of City Hall.
A familiar figure was already there.
Sugar Girl.
She didn't look like her usual self.
On her head was a checkered deerstalker hat—the kind with a brim, called a hunting cap.
Over her shoulders hung a beige Inverness coat with a cape.
And in her mouth was a pipe.
"......"
I stared at her, momentarily speechless. That outfit was definitely... a detective, right? Sherlock Holmes?
"Sugar Girl."
"Yeah. You're here, Mr. Mayor?"
She looked at me and smiled brightly. White smoke rose from the pipe in her mouth.
"Y-You, you, you're smoking?!"
I yelled in horror.
No way, since when?
Sugar Girl, a delinquent girl like this!
That innocent face puffing on a pipe was socially unacceptable.
"What are you talking about?"
Sugar Girl gave me a baffled look.
Crunch!
She just bit into the pipe she was holding in her mouth.
Crunch crunch...
With a cheerful sound, the pipe disappeared into her mouth.
"...It was a snack?"
"Of course! This is a cloud candy pipe. Did you really think I'd smoke real tobacco, Mr. Mayor? I don't do anything you hate."
No. You seem like the type who would. You're a middle school dropout patissier. Who knows.
"What do you think? I disguised myself as a detective! Behold, the great detective Sugar Girl!"
Twirl.
She spun around, showing off her costume.
I had so much to say, but I couldn't grasp where to even start.
"Sugar Girl."
"Yeah!"
"We're going to catch plagiarists right now... not time-traveling to 19th-century London."
"But we need this much to get into the undercover investigation vibe!"
Undercover investigation? In that eye-catching outfit?
That wasn't undercover; it was advertising "I'm right here!" to the whole neighborhood.
Looking closer, even the hunting cap on her head wasn't a real hat.
It had a fluffy texture. A faint nutty aroma wafted from it.
Bread. A literal bread hat.
"You need a disguise too, Mr. Mayor! Here!"
Sugar Girl waved her hand in the air, and sweet sugar particles gathered into a mouthwatering beret shape.
She placed the finished bread hat on my head.
"What do you think? It suits you, right?"
"...I'm gonna get attacked by pigeons because of the bread smell."
"Nah, no way."
The fresh, nutty, sweet aroma of newly baked bread tickled my nose.
This wasn't a disguise; it was a walking tasting station.
I fiddled with the bread hat and grumbled.
"You know, seeing us like this, we kinda look like a couple."
"C-C-Couple look?!"
Sugar Girl's face turned bright red in an instant.
"W-What are you saying! This is a camouflage undercover costume! Camouflage! Undercover! Don't get the wrong idea!"
Her frantic waving was pretty entertaining.
Interesting.
I put on a deliberately serious face and looked at her.
"Weren't we supposed to go on a date?"
"No we're not?! We're going to work?! Y-You idiot mayor!"
Explosion.
She shrieked with her face flushed red.
Cute. Teasing her never gets old.
"Hm. I can eat it later if I get hungry."
I tore off a corner of the bread hat on my head and popped it in my mouth.
Mmm. Brioche rich with butter flavor. Delicious.
"Hey! Why are you eating that!"
"Isn't that why you made it out of bread?"
"It's a disguise prop, I told you!"
"You can just make another one."
"That's not the point!"
Sugar Girl jumped up and down in frustration at my actions.
She huffed, snatched the bread hat, and meticulously patched the bitten part with fresh bread.
"There! Don't eat it now!"
"So, are we really going? To Seoul?"
At my despairing question, Sugar Girl nodded as if it was obvious.
"Of course. While my partner was distracted by seolleongtang, those horrific fakes were defiling my art. This isn't something we can just let slide."
After the tussle, we caught a taxi and headed to Seoul.
Our destination: Seongsu-dong.
Where that knockoff bakery, People's Party, was located.
When we got out of the taxi, the driver had a strange look on his face. Like he was on the verge of suffocating in the car filled with sweet smells.
I silently added a generous tip to the fare.
Seongsu-dong.
Seoul's Brooklyn.
The streets buzzed with energy.
Young people in unique outfits, stylish cafes in renovated old factories, quaint select shops.
"Wow, that dress is pretty."
Sugar Girl admired a dress displayed in a shop window.
"Want me to buy it for you?"
"No? I don't need it."
She shook her head and patted her coat.
"I can just make one."
"...Won't it melt in the rain?"
Sugar Girl's eyes narrowed.
"It won't melt! What kind of nonsense is that! You pervert mayor!"
No, I was just curious. Why am I the pervert here?
Before scouting People's Party's location, we decided to stop by a nearby cafe. A so-called "hot spot."
"We need to fill our stomachs before infiltrating enemy territory!"
Sugar Girl ordered the cafe's signature items.
Strawberry cream latte. Fig scones.
Moments later, beautifully plated desserts were set before us. The kind made for Instagram.
Sugar Girl cut a piece of scone with a fork, tasted it, and savored it with her eyes closed.
Then a sip of the latte.
"Hm. This is it?"
Evaluation time.
"Got it. Seoul cafe level. So boring I wanna die."
Then she suddenly activated her power.
Sweet sugar powder clumped together, forming a scone identical to the fig one.
Even replicating the plate perfectly.
"Here, try it."
I bit into the scone she made with a dazed expression.
"...It's the same."
No, actually better.
"Right? Want me to make strawberry cream latte too?"
I burst out laughing in disbelief.
"Wait, what are we even doing right now?"
"Market research, obviously!"
Sugar Girl replied as if it was the most natural thing.
"No, didn't we come to catch plagiarists? Why are we the ones plagiarizing other shops' menus here?"
She bristled at my point.
"This is benchmarking! What People's Party does is soulless malicious plagiarism!"
"Isn't that the same thing?"
If I do it, it's romance; if someone else does, it's adultery.
If I do it, it's benchmarking; if someone else does, it's plagiarism.
"Totally different! Ours is creative imitation to improve! Theirs is shameless copying to mooch off!"
Sophistry. But she was so confident I was at a loss for words.
The pinnacle of double standards.
But hey, I'm no different.
When others slack off, it's dereliction of duty; when I do, it's recharging energy.
We looked at each other for a moment.
And burst out laughing at the same time.
"Alright, alright. Benchmarking. Go wild, great detective."
*
We toured countless cafes in Seongsu-dong under the noble pretext of "market research."
Sugar Girl perfectly replicated each cafe's signature menu, harshly criticizing them as "boring," "mediocre," "flashy on the outside only."
Yet she made me praise her replicas as "tastier," "prettier," "sweeter."
Once our noble game of plagiarism-under-the-guise-of-benchmarking ended,
We remembered our original goal.
People's Party.
Their pop-up store for that knockoff shop was closer than expected.
[People's Party ()]
Bright red background with tacky white Gungsuh font.
Below it: "Bread by Seoul citizens! For Seoul citizens! Of Seoul citizens!"—a phrase that sounded familiar.
It blatantly ripped off Insimdang's sign design, but the font and colors evoked northern propaganda posters.
Even plagiarism needs a minimum of conscience and aesthetic sense.
But that sign rejected it all.
Th-That...! My interior...!
Shaking.
The mentally fragile girl switched to vibration mode.
Even those decorations...! They copied my macaron tower and lollipop streetlamps exactly!
Her finger pointed to a crudely made plastic macaron tower and faded lollipop-shaped streetlamp.
Insimdang's iconic decorations.
Of course, these were cheap plastic junk, not real sugar ones.
At that moment.
Whoosh-!
A massive lollipop-shaped staff rose from behind Sugar Girl's back.
In her hand were colorful macaron-shaped bombs.
Her eyes gleamed with chilling coldness.
"Ahh, this cool, heavy sensation. Time to return as villain Sugar Girl."
"Wait! Stop!"
I hurriedly grabbed her arm.
"Whoa, calm down! This isn't Neo Incheon! We're in the heart of Seoul!"
Swinging that around here would make tomorrow's front-page news: "Neo Incheon Mayor Terrorizes Seoul with Sugar Girl."
It could spark all-out war between the cities. I had no appetite for such diplomatic headaches.
My workload would multiply! And Seria's scornful gaze as a bonus!
"But I can't forgive that!"
"Let's try the bread first. We need to check if they copied the taste too."
I barely calmed the fuming girl and pushed her toward the shop.
"Everyone will recognize you if you go in, so I'll scout. Wait here."
I went in as the representative scout.
Ding-a-ling.
The shop was empty. Not a single customer.
In the fly-blown store, four women in amateur magical girl costumes bustled about.
Pink, blue, green, gold.
The classic magical girl color combo.
I ignored their excessive frills and ribbons, picked up a few breads, paid, and left.
I handed the bread bag to Sugar Girl.
"Here, tasting time."
We sat on a nearby bench and took out the breads one by one.
I picked soboro bread. Sugar Girl picked cream bread.
Insimdang's signature items.
I bit into the soboro bread.
And then.
"Ptooey!"
We spat it out at the same time.
Ugh.
Impossible to swallow.
This wasn't bread.
It felt like chewing a handful of damp sand.
A bizarre taste that numbed the tongue—you couldn't tell if it was sweet or salty.
"Ptooey! Ptooey!"
I spat out the remnants and grimaced.
Next to me, Sugar Girl wore the same expression.
She had taken one bite of the cream bread and frozen solid.
"This is..."
Sugar Girl opened her mouth.
"Unforgivable... This is an insult to bread!!"
"Calm down! Just calm down first!"
"No! This crosses the line! Doesn't plagiarism need a minimum quality?!"
She jumped up from her seat.
The nature of her anger shifted.
Sugar Girl stormed straight into People's Party.
Bang!
Kicking open the door, the four amateur magical girls jumped in fright and stared at us.
"S-S-Sugar Girl?!"
The pink magical girl screamed upon seeing us—no, specifically Sugar Girl.
Shock and joy spread across all four faces.
"Whoa, it's really Sugar Girl!"
"I eat Insimdang bread every day!"
"I'm a fan! Autograph! Please give us autographs!"
What is this situation?
"Hey! Is your bread a joke?!"
Sugar Girl's shout.
The four magical girls glanced nervously at each other, unsure what to do.
"S-Sorry!"
Dogeza.
All four prostrated themselves on the floor at once.
What now?
"Actually, we're... magical girls. Magical Heart Princesses..."
The pink-haired magical girl sniffled as she spoke.
"But... we're getting older now..."
They looked mid-to-late teens. But their real ages were over thirty.
Thirty-year-old magical girls. No, magical aunts.
Isn't that a crime?
"Our magical power is weakening... And merchandise sales are losing to the rookies..."
Tears and snot flowed as they lamented their plight.
They'd maintained their looks with magic, but their bodies weren't what they used to be.
Magical power waning, outsold by young new magical girls, merch sales in the gutter.
No savings, and pride wouldn't let them get normal jobs.
"Then we heard about you, Sugar Girl! A former villain who's now Neo Incheon's baking queen. You're our role model!"
They wanted to be like Sugar Girl.
So envious, they wanted to imitate her.
They caused a ruckus on the street and went to the Seoul deputy mayor, who gave them startup funds.
But the result was this: a fly-blown failure.
"We wanted to succeed like Insimdang too!"
I almost softened at their teary pleas.
But I pulled myself together and hit the core.
"So you plagiarized?"
They panicked and waved their hands at my interrogation.
"No! It's not plagiarism, it's homage!"
Blue shouted.
"Insimdang is a revolution in baking! It's the textbook! How do you plagiarize a textbook!"
Green chimed in.
"Right! We just studied the textbook hard! Insimdang is baking's Bible!"
Gold clasped her hands reverently.
A feast of ridiculous sophistry.
But their eyes were sincere.
Pure admiration for Sugar Girl.
True respect for Insimdang.
I glanced at Sugar Girl's expression.
Her face, filled with cold fury, subtly changed.
The corners of her stiff mouth lifted ever so slightly.
As expected.
Artists are weak to praise.
Especially mentally fragile ones.
"Hm."
She crossed her arms and haughtily looked down at the magical girls.
"Fine. I like that passion for bread. But I absolutely won't tolerate you using Insimdang's name with that skill. Not even something similar."
Disappointment flashed across the magical girls' faces.
But Sugar Girl wasn't done.
"So... I'll consult for you! It's me, Sugar Girl!"