Chapter 17

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

Translator: penny

Chapter: 17

Chapter Title: The Mayor and His Supporters

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

One week.

The time it takes for the world to flip upside down once, and for the upended world to find its place again.

Or the time plenty for a man who has achieved perfect downfall to savor the sweet fruit at his leisure.

I was at peace.

My mind had already reached the realm of perfect clarity.

No external noise could shake my inner tranquility.

Protest calls flooding City Hall? Condemnation statements from civic groups? A media carpet bombing?

Such noises were merely background music for my grand epic.

Yes. I did it.

On the guillotine of live broadcast, I willingly offered my neck. No, I severed it myself.

The result was dazzling.

Public enemy of the nation. Shame of Neo Incheon. Cancer of modern society.

All sorts of flashy modifiers were slapped onto my name.

Impeachment.

That was the only procedure left.

The moment the impeachment bill passes, what expression should I wear for the most pitiful and groveling exit?

Shed tears? Scream and beg? Or stare blankly into space like a lost soul?

Happy dilemmas amid countless choices filled my days.

"Mayor, here's the online trends report for the week as requested."

As always, Seria's icy voice cracked my sweet delusions.

The tablet PC screen she held was packed with dense graphs and text.

I didn't need to look to know. A panorama of curses and condemnation aimed at me.

"Good work, Seria. Just leave it there."

I was utterly relaxed.

Like receiving a report card from a test whose outcome I already knew.

A perfect failure. An F grade. Thrilling.

"You'd better check it yourself. Your popularity is piercing the heavens."

"Popularity? Haha. Sarcasm? Your sense of humor is sharpening by the day, Seria. My popularity must be crashing through the floor toward Earth's core right now."

"Who knows. In terms of being lava-hot, it might be spot on."

Leaving those cryptic words, Seria turned away.

Alright, let's see just how miserably I've crumbled further.

Time to check how enthusiastically the citizens are jeering.

I turned on the tablet PC screen.

The first thing that caught my eye was, as expected, the 'Lee Garam Gallery'.

My anti community. My holy site. My El Dorado.

...Huh?

...What's this?

Something's off.

The vibe is weird. This isn't the place overflowing with curses and resentment I knew. Even the post titles were irreverent.

Daring to use 'sama'. Why attach such honorifics where 'scum' or 'bastard' should be?

With trembling fingers, I tapped the post titled 'Garam-sama Quotes.txt'.

"No, no, no."

This isn't right.

This can't be.

Sarcasm, right? Mockery?

Yes, definitely. The roundabout diss style unique to the younger generation.

No way they actually find this funny.

Haha. Right?

Forcing calm, I scrolled down to the comments.

Believing healthy insults and abuse would soothe my anxiety.

"......"

Tears were welling in my eyes.

This wasn't mockery.

Not sarcasm.

They meant it.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Pure 100% support, clear and transparent without a speck of impurity.

Why?

How?

From which part exactly?

Where in the Lee Garam gaffe parade could anyone feel moved?

How are these people's empathy circuits wired?

I scrolled like a madman. Scoured other posts.

But every site was the same.

My statements coexisted strangely with mockery and worship, like water and oil.

People used my emotes to laugh at me while praising the 'authenticity' and 'honesty' of my words.

And then I discovered it.

Oh my god.

Fan club? Official, even?

Who authorized it? Me? When?

Enchanted, I clicked the banner.

The site was a cauldron of chaos.

A composite photo of me wearing a hat emblazoned with 'MIGA' in red letters hung at the top.

M.I.G.A.

Make. Incheon. Great. Again.

Those calling themselves my fans dubbed themselves 'MIGA Supporters' and moved with organization.

They swarmed articles criticizing me, carpet-bombing comments, developing pro-me arguments to spread across communities.

They were even making and selling merch.

T-shirts and mugs with my face plastered huge were selling out.

"This... what the hell..."

My hands trembled.

This wasn't the picture I wanted. Do they think this is a comedy show?

My scenario was supposed to be tragedy. A grand epic of one man's wretched downfall!

What drove me even madder was that this bizarre phenomenon was spreading beyond ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠borders.

Typing 'Lee Garam', related searches unfolded:

Videos titled 'Korean Mayor's SAVAGE Moments' racked up millions of views.

"Hey Garam! Pump this party!"

"Garam-sensei... Psycho (best)! Sugoi!"

"Xie xie Lee Garam, Lee Garam jia you!"

Attention whores worldwide were going wild over me.

Madness crossing borders.

Global-scale misunderstanding.

Am I suffering international humiliation, or becoming an international star?

Clinging to last hope, I accessed the ratings agency's homepage.

Yes. All this is just noise from some internet weirdos.

Real-world opinion, the silent majority, still has its back turned to me.

"......"

Dead cat bounce.

Stock market term: even a dead cat bounces once if dropped from high enough.

A temporary rebound in a crashed stock.

But the numbers before me weren't a dead cat.

It was alive. Vibrantly. Resurrecting like a zombie.

Yes, zombie cat bounce.

Just stay dead quietly, cat! Why resurrect and bounce on your own?!

"Kuaaaak!"

My wretched howl filled the mayor's office.

The perfect plan. My beautiful dream of downfall.

All shattered to pieces.

The next day.

On the TV screen, a middle-aged man with a crooked tie was ranting.

His name: Kim Youngtae. Self-proclaimed pundit. Essentially a pro who appears on shows, spouts nonsense, and collects fees. A man angry at everything.

He'd probably rage at the sun rising in the east each morning.

Why always east? Can't it rise west? East bias or what? That kind of guy.

"This isn't politics! It's a show! Comedy! Lee Garam's antics can't be explained by any political grammar—they're just clowning parasitizing the public's vulgar voyeurism!"

Seeing his bulging neck veins, I thought:

That guy's blood pressure must be high. Hope he gets checkups.

The screen split to another panel: Professor Choi Jina, renowned political commentator.

A woman with a worldly-wise expression, assigning meaning to everything.

"I see it differently. The Lee Garam phenomenon is an antithesis born from citizens' disillusionment with hypocritical politics. His style may be rough and crude, but at least he's not fake. Citizens are thrilled by that unadorned 'authenticity'."

Authenticity.

There it was again. Damn authenticity.

My only true heart is the firm resolve to grab slush funds and bolt somehow, yet where do people see this authenticity mirage?

"Authenticity? Ha! That's just trash talk and incitement! And that's not all. Know what he did during the election?"

Kim Youngtae flashed a screen with footage.

Me campaigning in a 'Independent World Party' vest.

"Independent, but why World Party? Makes sense? What's with the party name? Planning world conquest? What comedy is this!"

The studio erupted in laughter. Audience clapped like seals, other panelists smirked bitterly.

I chuckled too.

As laughter died, Professor Choi calmly countered.

"Well, I glimpsed the mayor's grand ambitions from that World Party name itself."

"Pardon? Ambitions?"

"Yes. A declaration of intent to embrace the world beyond Neo Incheon. His bold moves combined with the ambition to make Neo Incheon the world's top superpowered city. That could appeal freshly to the young."

No.

No way.

No deep meaning.

Please don't read into my actions. And it wasn't even me—it was the original Lee Garam.

Of course, my desperate plea didn't reach the TV.

After the broadcast, other politicians seized the chance to fire at me en masse.

The Neo Incheon mayor seat isn't just local governance—it's the regime's golden egg.

Snatched by an independent, they'd be sharpening knives.

Surrounded by enemies on all sides.

Yet bizarrely, the more they attacked, the more internet opinion sympathized with me.

This frame was forming.

I'm just an average Joe wanting quick firing, yet why am I cosplaying a martyr?

In front of City Hall, my MIGA hat supporters clashed daily with 'Stop the Hate!' picket protesters.

Cameras alternated filming them for news interviews.

"Other politicians always use hard words; no idea what they think. But Lee Garam is fun at least."

A young man in a MIGA hat said.

"I like he's not fake. He messes up, trash talks. Feels like a real person."

A bespectacled female college student said shyly.

Opposition was fierce too.

"Is the mayor allowed to act like that? Bad for kids' education!"

A worried housewife with a stroller.

Yes! That's it! Say more! How bad I am!

But her concern was drowned by louder voices.

"Better than hypocrites doing dirty deeds behind closed doors!"

Watching the chaos, I quietly turned off the TV.

Harmful to my mental health anymore.

"Intriguing results."

Seria's tablet brimmed with dancing graphs and charts.

"Support for the mayor bottomed out then recovered to the 40s. Especially among 20s-30s males, positive ratings exceed 70%. Astonishing figures."

I stared silently at the screen.

That red upward curve.

Writhing like a red dragon crawling from hell to ascend to heaven.

"Core keywords from supporter analysis: anti-establishment, authenticity, media distrust. Deep disillusionment with old politics and mainstream media projected onto you as their antithesis. Your direct, unfiltered speech paradoxically birthed a new political trend."

A faint smile played on her lips.

"All this... was it intentional?"

My heart sank.

Cold sweat trickled down my spine.

No way could I confess: 'No! I was just being arrogant to get impeached, but it turned out like this!'

Saying that would socially and physically erase me.

Forcing composure, I mustered arrogance and nonchalance.

"Of... Of course intentional! Finally seeing Lee Garam's big picture?"

Cringe-worthy lines even to me.

"This is my new political style! Destroying outdated grammar, direct citizen communication! Calculated madness. Haha!"

But Seria's reaction was unexpected.

"I see."

She nodded slightly.

"Truly impressive, Mayor. I had no idea of the depth; thought you just blurted morning whims. Your unpredictability is your greatest charm and weapon."

Praise that didn't feel like praise.

Sarcasm that felt sincere.

I couldn't handle this anymore.

Nothing went to plan.

I slumped in my chair.

Thus, I, Lee Garam, stopped thinking.

"No time to space out, Mayor."

My peaceful mental escape shattered in one second.

Thud.

A dull sound as document stacks piled mountain-high on the desk.

Dust puffed up.

"Huh? Why? What's all this? You never gave me work before!"

Wasn't my mayor life just pressing approve buttons in comfort?

Seria narrowed her eyes at me.

Her gaze so cold, room temp dropped 2 degrees.

"I can't handle all your cleanup forever. Your new style exploded inquiries, complaints, protests, support statements—work tripled."

She tapped the top stack.

"This isn't the picture I painted! Lazy afternoons in sunlight, ample budget, moderate sloth. And above all, no me in the picture. My Garam picture was a Garam-less Garam picture!"

"If you have energy for useless talk, you can handle this paperwork."

I alternated glances between the stack and Seria's face.

"Wait, Seria. This is too much. How am I supposed to..."

"Basic for realizing your big picture."

"No, wait! This is human rights violation against the mayor! Labor exploitation!"

"In your favorite direct speech: you brought this on yourself. Feel the impact your convictions have on city admin. True responsible politics, no?"

She brushed off my words.

"Now, begin. Mayor."

I sat dazed before the mountain.

"Kuaaaaak!!!"

"Quiet. Complaints from downstairs."

Is this the end? Not glamorous impeachment or sweet escape, but endless paperwork hell.