Chapter 123
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Mayor and New Menu
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Next week's weekday.
Thud.
I looked up, and there on the desk stood a tower of documents about fifty centimeters high.
In Hanja, it's .
from writing, from group. A group of writings.
In English, document. Derived from the Latin docere, meaning "to teach."
But why don't documents teach anything? Why do they reveal nothing?
The one thing I've learned is this: documents are evil. They are wicked tools that enslave humans.
Approval. Approval. Approval.
Mountain of documents. Tower of hell.
A long shadow stretched across my face, darkening it.
"Mayor, these are the documents for your approval today."
Krraaaack!
"Wait. Seria. Hold on. Doesn't something feel off?"
"What do you mean?"
"No, that height. That overwhelming presence. It wasn't this bad until yesterday. Did the documents reproduce? Binary fission? Or spore reproduction?"
"Backlogged work always compounds with interest. This is the result of you slacking off all last week, Mayor."
That's right. Lately, I've been rolling around with Nero every day.
Feeding him treats, getting paw massages, burying my face in his soft belly fur, basking in supreme bliss.
And the price of that happiness is this paper mountain range before my eyes? The law of equivalent exchange is so cruel.
"Mayor. You're not planning to dodge work again today, are you?"
Seria's turquoise eyes pierced right through me.
I hadn't done anything, yet I already felt completely exposed.
"D-dodge? I would never do something so cowardly and irresponsible..."
"You said the same thing yesterday."
"......"
Silence is golden, they say. But my silence right now was just a feeble excuse.
"And the day before that."
"......"
"And the day before that."
No good. If I cave here, I'll suffocate to death buried in that paper grave all day.
That stack would naturally become my tombstone.
At that moment, a forgotten sacred duty flashed through my mind.
"Oh, right! Goodness, I almost forgot something this important! I have to go consult at the Insimdang Seoul branch today!"
I shot to my feet and shouted.
Yes, that's right. Insimdang, Neo Incheon's pride and my revenue stream, expanding to Seoul. How crucial is that?
Time was of the essence.
"You're making excuses again because you don't want to work."
"No!"
I denied it firmly.
"This is a matter tied to Neo Incheon's future! As mayor, I must personally oversee the site for Insimdang's successful Seoul launch! Responsibility! Duty! Things like that! Revitalizing the local economy! Supporting small businesses! Reviving alleyway commerce!"
As if moved by my passionate speech, a soft sensation brushed against my legs.
Meow.
Nero was rubbing his body against my leg.
Oh, my loyal vassal. My one true ally.
I immediately scooped Nero into my arms.
"See? Nero knows how important this is too! This is an expedition staking Neo Incheon's fate! And as our promotional ambassador, Nero has to come along, of course! Right?"
Meow?
"Haa... Using Nero as an excuse again..."
"It's not an excuse! It's legitimate business accompaniment!"
Seria glanced between me and Nero in my arms, then let out a deep sigh.
"Have a safe trip."
"Ooh, that's my secretary! Alright then!"
"But tomorrow, you'll work twice as much."
"......Got it."
There's no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Today's freedom is mortgaged against tomorrow's suffering.
But that's fine. Tomorrow's me isn't today's me. I can just leave tomorrow's pain to tomorrow's me.
Who knows? Tomorrow's me might be way more competent than today's.
And so, I set off on my expedition, leaving the document tower behind.
Magic Girl Bakery.
I opened the shop door and stepped in, momentarily speechless at the scene before me.
"Hup! Hah!"
"One! Two! One! Two!"
Four magic girls were shouldering 20kg sacks of flour and doing squats.
Behind them, Sugar Girl supervised with a fierce glare.
"Form's breaking! Straighten your back! Bend those knees more! You gonna knead dough like that too?!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Kneading dough isn't just arm strength! Core! Waist! Legs! You gotta transmit your whole body's power into the flour for the gluten to really come alive!"
This wasn't a baking class. It was Marine boot camp.
The magic girls I knew wielded magic wands to fight evil. These ones were locked in mortal combat with flour sacks.
Sugar Girl spotted me and waved.
"Oh, Mayor's here?"
Then she turned back to the magic girls and yelled.
"You! No breaks! No rest till you hit 100!"
"What's this? Some kind of extreme training?"
"A healthy body makes healthy bread! Stamina is bread power!"
Bread power.
The birth of a new term.
The sweat-soaked magic girls paused and shot pleading looks at Sugar Girl.
"Um... Sugar Girl... Our arms are numb now..."
"No excuses! You're just lacking effort! You've got a long way to go!"
Sugar Girl's mental boot camp mode kicked in.
"You lack effort! Passion! When others work 4 hours a day, you gotta do 8, 12! How can you make the best bread without that resolve?!"
Black company textbook.
Labor laws are weeping.
"......"
"You make too many excuses! 'I'm tired,' 'No time,' 'Feeling unwell.' Use that time to knead one more batch!"
And the killer line.
"Back in my day!"
Ah, there it is. The boomer signature.
"Back in my day, I researched bread for 12 hours a day while doing villain stuff and terrorism! I burned with conviction to sweeten the world, even skimping on sleep! And you complain after a few hours of training?!"
The magic girls' faces subtly stiffened.
They were heroes. Stopping terrorism was their job.
Yet their mentor was proudly bragging about balancing terrorism and baking.
That wasn't boasting. It was a confession.
"Look at our Insimdang—everything's handmade. Sugar syrup? We make it ourselves, obviously. Whipped cream? Whip it fresh. Fruit puree? Buy seasonal fruit and simmer it down myself!"
Her voice brimmed with artisan pride.
Handmade.
Made by hand.
Such a beautiful word. One that evokes care and effort.
But.
Different scenes flashed through my mind.
Sugar Girl snapping her fingers to summon massive sugar crystals that melted into syrup in seconds.
Whistling to whip milk into firm cream on its own.
Solving everything with superpowers in one second flat.
Is that handmade?
Well, she did use her "hand." She snapped her fingers.
Isn't that cheating? Mocking the sanctity of labor?
"What, Mayor? Got a problem with what I said?"
She read my bored expression and pouted.
"No, not at all. Such pearls of wisdom—I nearly shed tears of. The embodiment of effort, fruit of sweat, pinnacle of artisan spirit."
"Right? Mayor gets it!"
But Sugar Girl's face was dead serious.
She meant every word.
She firmly believed she was the world's most honest baker.
Cheating every process with powers while preaching "effooooort."
That was peak young boomer. Young, rich, pretty, and boomer.
As far as I knew, Sugar Girl had no formal baking training. Dropout patissier.
Her bread was special not from blood, sweat, and tears—but because her powers were just broken.
Maybe that's the secret to success.
The ability to perfectly fool yourself.
She was a true artist.
"What're you standing around for? Today's special training: 1,000 croissants! Real 20-somethings don't rest! Gotta keep running! ...Oh, right, you're in your 30s. Fine... I'll let you off once a week."
Sugar Girl shouted.
The magic girls' faces went pale.
I averted my eyes from that hellscape and quietly scratched Nero's chin.
Meow.
Nero purred contentedly.
Yeah. Labor isn't sacred. Lounging with cats is the true holiness.
After the hellish stamina training, the magic girls sprawled on the floor in big X's.
The flour sacks had wrung out their very souls.
"Alright, now that we've built your bodies, time to use your heads."
Sugar Girl declared triumphantly.
I watched from the corner, fiddling with Nero's jelly-soft paw pads.
"Marketing...?"
Pink barely lifted her head from the floor.
"Yeah, marketing. Days when good taste alone sells are over. Now it's all about concept and story."
As expected. Our Sugar Girl's a marketing whiz. Living proof.
Villain turned Neo Incheon baking queen—Sugar Girl's redemption arc.
What story could be more dramatic?
"That's my expertise."
I gently set Nero down and stood.
"Magic girls have a fanbase that goes nuts for them. Those shady, rich types... y'know, the so-called creepy otakus. Target them."
At my profound insight, the magic girls' faces turned blue.
But Sugar Girl's eyes sparkled.
"Exactly! Pinpoint your target customers!"
My business partner gets it with one word.
She whipped out a blackboard and started scribbling.
[Magic Girl Bakery Marketing Strategy]
"First off, the shop name's the problem. People's Party? What is this, North Korea? What kinda bakery name is that?"
People's Party. Sounds like proletarian vanguard of revolution.
Pink mumbled under Sugar Girl's sharp critique.
"Well... Insimdang's famous, so... we thought something similar might confuse people into coming..."
"Plagiarism has levels!"
Pathetic. Truly pathetic idea.
"No money for a new sign..."
Blue added in a tiny voice.
Poverty. Root of all evil.
"Can't be helped then. Temporary fix: hang a banner out front. Add 'Magical.' Magical People's Party."
Magical People's Party.
Horrific naming sense.
Weird fusion of communism and magic girls. Lenin x Sailor Moon collab.
But no money? No choice.
Might even gain cult appeal from the cheesiness.
"Next, interior! This looks like a neighborhood diner, not a bakery! Make it a magic girl space!"
Under Sugar Girl's command, the shop transformed.
Dingy wallpaper turned pastel. Ceiling dangled with twinkling star ornaments. Square tables all became heart-shaped.
Pink and sky blue everywhere. Eye-searing.
"Now you transform too. Dig out your old magic girl costumes!"
They rummaged out their worn costumes and put them on.
Symbol of teens. Memories of 20s. Black history of 30s.
"Ugh... Never thought I'd wear this again..."
"So embarrassing..."
"At our age now..."
For women in their thirties, frilly miniskirts were cruel punishment.
Time and added weight were honest.
Fabric screamed at the belly. Zipper wouldn't budge. Buttons popped.
But Sugar Girl's merciless bark crushed their hesitation.
"Get it together! Pros ditch shame! When customers come, do your magic girl entrance lines! Got it?!"
"Entrance lines?!"
"Yeah! Like..."
Sugar Girl struck a pose.
Right hand V-sign. Left on hip. One leg slightly raised.
"Love and flour for you! Today's recommended bread is the strawberry cream cake that sweetens your heart too! Kirat☆!"
Sugar Girl demonstrated perfectly.
Glowing idol pose. Flawless wink. Sweet smile.
Sugar powder even sparkled in the background.
"Now make your own! With your unique flair!"
"This is too embarrassing... I'm thirty-four, heartie-heartie what?!"
"I can't! Fairies now?! I'm a divorced single mom!"
"My kid's in middle school, if she sees this..."
"Hurry! How many shops do you think failed clutching pride?!"
The hesitant magic girls finally accepted reality and awkwardly practiced lines in front of Nero.
"Sw-sweet bread... uh... to sweeten your day..."
"L-love packed in... ah, forget it!"
"Magical... Cure... whatever..."
Nyaam~
Nero yawned boredly and licked his front paw again.
Pretty harsh critic.
Well, they weren't magic girls. Just cosplay aunties.
"Good! Now for the most important part: selecting the signature menu!"
Sugar Girl slammed the blackboard.
"Signature! The reason people skip other bakeries and come here!"
She wrote big on the board.
[Ultimate Bread]
"Ultimate..."
"Yeah! Magic bread packed with everything you are!!"
And so began the signature bread development meeting.
"We... in our prime, worked in Japan."
Green spoke cautiously.
"Oh, Japan?"
"Yes. If Korea's KBO league in magic girls, Japan's the real deal. Major leagues."
Magic girl homeland. Sailor Moon holy land. Precure nation.
Korea's magic girls: amateurs. Japan's: pros.
Go big or go home, even for magic girls.
"How about... ramen bread?"
"Or no law against oden in bread?"
Blue and Gold tossed ideas.
Ramen bread. Oden bread.
Not bad. But too tame.
Probably exists in some Japanese conbini already.
"Too ordinary. If we're doing it, go shocking."
I thought for a sec.
What'd be most shocking?
Most outlandish?
Most mismatched?
"Instead of ramen bread... how about Pyongyang cold noodle bread?"
"......"
Silence fell.
"Pyongyang... cold noodles?"
"Yeah. That light yet deep broth flavor. The chewy buckwheat noodles' snap. Replicate it in bread. Revolutionary just imagining it, right?"
Sugar Girl's eyes lit up at my genius idea again.
"Amazing! No one's thought of it! Mayor's a genius!"
My one line sealed the shop's fate.
The Pyongyang cold noodle bread from hell project launched.
And I realized.
A loose tongue starts all disasters.
"Mayor! Come here!"
Sugar Girl called me over.
In her hand: mystery gray lump.
"First prototype. Taste it!"
"Why me?"
"You suggested it! Proposer takes responsibility! That's accountable governance, right?"
Solid logic.
But I didn't want to eat it.
Sour dongchimi broth and damp buckwheat stench wafted from the bread.
I was pushed into taking a bite.
And.
"Urk..."
World-ending taste.
Soggy, sticky dough enveloped my tongue. Undercooked buckwheat's heaviness and mystery sourness stabbed my nose.
This wasn't food. Food waste.
Nero approached curiously at my pained face.
Sniffed the spit-out chunk, gave it a tentative lick.
Gyaaak!
Nero screeched weirdly and backed away.
Fur bristling, he dry-heaved.
Taste even cats reject.
"What! This much? We've got 99 more prototypes!"
Sugar Girl shoved the next one undeterred.
That day, I tasted every hellish Pyongyang cold noodle bread variant.
Broth jellied like gelatin inside.
Whole buckwheat noodles jammed in.
Even boiled egg and pork slices.
Torture.
Medieval witch trials were kinder.
Nyaak-!
Nero suffered beside me.
I'd bite and writhe; he'd lick curiously and writhe too.
We were a taste community. Solidarity in suffering.
As failures piled up.
The 100th prototype appeared.
"Last one. Fail this, we quit."
I bit in resignation.
"...Huh?"
Tasteless.
Just bland and plain.
Failure.
But after swallowing.
A subtle umami bloomed from my tongue root.
Deep, savory meat broth. Dongchimi's light, cool tang.
The bread's texture snapped like buckwheat noodles, growing nuttier with each chew.
"This..."
I took another bite unconsciously.
Bland. But tasty.
Plain, yet addictive.
Ordinary, yet special.
Pyongyang cold noodles' essence.
"This is sneakily addictive?"
Nero cautiously licked a piece beside me.
Grrrum.
Then purred contentedly low.
Cat-certified.
Success.
We forged a miracle at hell's end.
"We did it! We really did it!"
The magic girls hugged and cheered.