Chapter 124

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 124

Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Magical Girls

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10 AM sharp.

Finally, the fateful day dawned.

The time of the decisive battle.

Magical People's Party's new grand opening.

The shallow marketing that anything looks new if you slap "New" on it.

And in front of the shop.

Like prisoners ascending the scaffold, four magical girls stood solemnly in a row.

Average age 32.5 magical girls.

Their faces brimmed with a tangled mix of tension, shame, and resignation.

Pink reached out a trembling hand toward the fat sign reading 'CLOSED'.

Flip it, and it became OPEN.

"The first day is the most important."

From inside the shop, Sugar Girl—arms crossed—glared at them with fierce eyes.

"First impressions decide everything. Mess up here, and it's game over. Got it?"

I took one step back from that brutal scene.

Securing a safe distance.

Stroking the soft fur of Nero nestled in my arms, I held perfect spectator mode.

Watching a fire across the river. Could there be anything more entertaining?

Meow.

"That's right, good kitty."

Stroke.

Each pass of the premium cashmere brush neatly groomed the glossy tri-color fur.

"Mayor!"

Sugar Girl's voice cut sharper than a cat's claws.

"Don't shed fur in the bakery! Hygiene is the basic of basics!"

"Cat hair is a symbol of luck."

I replied calmly.

"In ancient Egypt, they carried cat hair like amulets. This is basically a divine sign we'll hit the jackpot today."

Of course, total bullshit.

Ting-a-ling.

That was the moment.

The bell on the shop door chimed clearly.

First customer.

A woman who looked like an SNS addict scanned the shop, then froze at the sight of the magical girls lined up at the entrance.

In that instant, Sugar Girl's hellish training paid off.

"L-love and flour unto thee! Oh, today's recommended bread is... ugh..."

The four magical girls lined up in the shop's center.

Leader Pink—face beet red—struck an awkward pose and shouted.

The heart shape her fingers made trembled visibly.

The customers hesitated briefly, then whipped out smartphones with intrigued looks.

Click. Click.

"Whoa, excuse me. Cosplay event? Like a maid cafe, but magical girl style?"

"No. We are... real magical girls..."

"Ahh, that concept?"

Blue blanked on her line from sheer embarrassment and blurted something random.

"Ah, uh... this bread is delicious."

Blue scrambled to recover.

Too late.

First impression sealed.

'Weird shop with weird aunties in weird cosplay.'

Ruined.

A pathetic opening.

I buried my face in Nero's belly.

Couldn't watch with eyes open.

However.

Modern society runs on baffling algorithms.

Failure isn't always the mother of success—it can be success itself.

And I'm the foremost expert in that arena.

The post spread like wildfire.

The video of the awkward, blushing magical girls tickled people's bizarre curiosity.

The unprecedented concept of 'blushing 30s magical girls.'

Videos of them striking clumsy 'Kyra☆' poses exploded on Reels.

Embarrassed magical girls sell.

People started flocking to the shop.

"Um... are you really magical girls?"

"Y-yes... we were active in the past..."

Pink answered in a half-soulless voice.

The pathos of past tense.

"Whoa, awesome. Can I take a photo?"

Every time customers entered, the magical girls recited lines in robotic, lifeless tones.

"Ba... baked with magical power... bread of love..."

Customers stifled laughs while filming.

SNS stories flooded instantly.

#SeongsuDongEats #MagicalGirlBakery #MagicalPeoplesParty #WTFIsThisLOL

Reels of their awkward poses and shy faces got algorithm-picked and views skyrocketed.

People swarmed for the rare spectacle.

Like zoo pandas. Like museum dinosaur fossils.

To see endangered 30s magical girls.

And the star: Pyongyang Cold Noodles Bread.

First reactions were as expected.

"What flavor is this? Tasteless?"

First victim's confusion.

"Bland... what's wrong with this bread?"

Second victim's disappointment.

But true Pyongyang cold noodles flavor starts from the second bite.

This bread inherited that philosophy.

"Huh? Why does it keep lingering in my mind?"

Third victim's bewilderment.

"Weird... wasn't great at first, but kinda addictive."

Fourth victim's surrender.

Starts with shock, ends in subtle addiction.

Pyongyang Cold Noodles Bread quickly gained word-of-mouth among weird-food maniacs.

Stock sold out in no time.

"This is why they call her Sugar Girl. No one else could make bread like this."

"Hmph. Mayor knows his bread?"

In my mind, she's the Meister of freak breads. Picasso of odd eats.

Though she fancies herself a top ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orthodox patissier.

That delusion is her superpower.

The shop grew packed with more customers.

The magical girls, initially flustered, gradually adapted amid the flood of attention.

Bathed in camera flashes and giggles, they grew accustomed to their roles.

Started with shame-induced trembling; now they'd reached resignation nirvana.

"Um... aren't you... Magical Heart Princess's Cure Green?"

A woman entering hand-in-hand with her young daughter asked Green hesitantly.

"Pardon? Ah... yes. That's me..."

Green nodded, flustered.

"Thank you so much. Ten years ago, during the villain terror when the department store collapsed... you saved me. I had this child in my belly then. If not for Cure Green..."

The woman's eyes reddened.

"Just doing my duty."

"No! You're our family's eternal benefactor!"

"Mommy, is that lady a magical girl?"

The child looked up at Green with round eyes.

"Yes. The real magical girl who saved Mommy and you."

Green's eyes welled up too.

Forgotten memories.

The fact she'd saved lives.

The fact she'd been someone's hero.

One by one, people who'd heard the rumors showed up.

"Cure Blue! Remember me? I was a soldier then—your help during the monster subjugation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠saved my life! Thanks to you, I'm married with kids now!"

Saving a life.

The butterfly effect it creates.

Save one, birth a family. A family births new life.

Exponential chains of salvation.

"Gold sis! Huge fan! Been one since childhood! You're my idol! Still gorgeous!"

Liar.

Beautiful lie.

"Princess Leader, Pink, right? I was in your fan club as a kid! Still got this magic wand merch!"

The people they'd saved.

The kids who'd dreamed big watching them.

People who still remembered and cheered after all these years.

Memories thought washed away by time surged like waves.

Amid genuine thanks and cheers, the magical girls felt no more shame.

"Welcome!"

No trace of embarrassment on their faces.

"Bread baked with magical power! CureCure Heart Beam!"

Perfect poses, complete with winks.

Awkwardness gone; poise and seasoned charm emerged.

They were back—from 20 years ago.

No—they'd never left.

Just hidden away briefly.

Customers burst into laughter but joined in, making hearts with fingers for photos.

"Magical girls forever, even as grannies! Always cheering for you!"

A young fangirl shouted.

"G-granny? I'm still in my 30s!"

Blue snapped back indignantly, but a smile played on her lips.

Older now, wrinkles on faces, waists thickened.

So what?

As long as the saved remember them.

As long as believers in magic exist.

As long as kids dream watching them.

Still—and eternally—magical girls.

A touching scene. A human triumph drama.

"Once a magical girl, always a magical girl... Does that mean once a mayor, always a mayor?"

I muttered quietly amid the heartwarming vibe.

Chills. That's a horrifying curse.

Hiding in the shop corner, I peered at my smartphone.

The mayor's vital duty.

Not slacking to avoid the register, dodging people, or general laziness.

Public sentiment gauging. Opinion monitoring. Big data analysis.

Desire is honest.

Fans of faded teen freshness yielding to those enthralled by 30s magical girls forged in time's tempests.

Pro-Pyeong Bread faction vs Anti-Pyeong Bread faction clash.

Pyeong Noodle Fans vs Anti-Pyeong Noodle Fans.

Food community's eternal script.

A feast of elitist taste supremacy.

Judging taste levels and human worth over one bread. So lowbrow.

Lenin's red banner collabing with Moon Crystal Power.

Marx's Capital crossover with Clow Cards.

The bizarre humor from clashing mismatched concepts.

Communism's ghost resurrecting as magical girls in capitalism's heart—Seongsu-dong.

The internet: a massive furnace.

Good intentions, malice, sincerity, frivolity—all melt down, reborn as weird memes.

"Mayor."

A cold voice sliced my reverie.

"Gonna keep grinning at your phone back there?"

Sugar Girl glared from behind the counter, arms crossed.

Chin slightly raised. Classic 'I'm pissed' pose.

"Nah, I'm gauging mayor trends. Public mood. Current vibes. Vital mayoral duties."

"Everyone's busting ass while you chill in AC? That's your job?"

"Not playing—supervising. I'm a shareholder. Monitoring ops. Oversight. Stock options."

My excuses fell flat.

"Cut the bullshit! Take Nero and drag in more customers."

"Why me."

"Everyone's dying out here— you gonna slack?"

I sighed, waking Nero from my lap.

"Nero. Up. Time to work... labor hour..."

Meow?

Nero flicked her tail lazily.

Then draped over my shoulders like a scarf.

"You hate work too? Same."

Thus, exiled outside with one cat.

Er, strategically repositioned.

Hot outside, cool inside, life unfair, labor ain't sacred today either.