Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The Mayor's Incompetence
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Tick, tock.
The sound of the clock's second hand seems to burrow into my skull.
Regularly, boringly.
City administration meeting.
A collective waste of time called a meeting. No, a scene of time murder.
I'm right in the middle of that emptiness, letting the meeting content flow in one ear and out the other without doing anything.
Existing but not existing. Sitting in the mayor's seat but not functioning as mayor.
But no one complains about my attitude.
Because the original Lee Garam was like that.
No, maybe even worse. Am I too diligent for Lee Garam right now?
Doodling during meetings. Scribbling meaningless graffiti on documents. Worrying about the lunch menu.
So maintaining this soul-out-of-body state is perfect camouflage.
"......Therefore, due to the terrorist act of Gravity Zero last time, it's inevitable to allocate a supplementary budget of 78.8 billion won for the restoration of Central Bridge and the surrounding commercial district."
Was it the Economic Planning Director or the Finance Bureau Chief?
Anyway, a middle-aged man who all look the same wields a laser pointer, explaining something diligently. Graphs full of numbers. Arrows. A feast of incomprehensible jargon.
78.8 billion.
The moment that number hits my eardrum, I mutter unwittingly.
"My money...."
Of course, the sound that came out was as tiny as a mosquito's. But the problem is that the person sitting next to me is a superhuman who can pick up the sound of dust settling on the window sill.
"It's not the mayor's money."
The competent, beautiful, and terrifying secretary. Seria Park.
"The city budget isn't the mayor's personal property. It's the citizens' precious taxes."
"Ahem. What I meant was... uh... that... we shouldn't spend the citizens' precious blood taxes so carelessly! Like saving and cherishing taxes as if they were my own money! Yeah, that's it!"
Seria remains expressionless. She just tilts her chin slightly and points to the document ahead.
"So, are you approving the supplementary budget proposal?"
"......Approved. Of course we have to approve it."
Opposing it here would be pointless anyway. It'll pass the city council no matter what.
It's the height of folly to kick up a fuss here and give the impression that 'something's changed'.
I scrawl my signature roughly on the document.
"Ahem! Process all plans expeditiously!"
The meeting continues.
Someone talks, someone reports, someone nods.
Alright, then let's start the real meeting. Lee Garam's internal meeting time.
The topic: how to escape the clutches of that pink-haired disaster, Seria.
Analysis begins.
Why does she keep Lee Garam around? The reason is obvious.
First, Lee Garam hails from a prestigious political family. No better backdrop for propping up a puppet.
Second, he's an idiot. Easy to manipulate because he's stupid. No matter what shady schemes she cooks up behind the scenes, Lee Garam stays content as a figurehead mayor, just stuffing his own face.
Third, the mayor position is useful to her. The pinnacle of power, letting her twist Neo Incheon's systems to her whims.
Utility.
That's it.
That's why she's keeping me. So the answer is simple.
'Become useless.'
Mess up the administration.
Commit every blunder imaginable.
What happens then?
Citizens' fury boils over, the media tears me apart, the city council files for impeachment.
Impeachment.
Yes. Get impeached and booted from the mayor's office.
That's the key.
Downfall through democratic channels.
Let's think from Seria's perspective.
If I just bolt? She'd suspect and hunt me down.
Seria craves perfect control. She believes everything must play out on the board she's designed.
To her, Lee Garam's sudden flight would be the worst glitch.
'Something outside my plan happened. Was he hiding something? Tied to another faction?'
Once suspicion takes root, Seria never lets go.
Running away would be betrayal and mockery to her.
Recall how the original Lee Garam died. The stoning was just the public spectacle.
In truth, the shadowy Seria likely pulled all the strings from behind.
She'd track me down for sure, and I'd meet an end even more pathetic than the original.
But what if the citizens oust me themselves?
So incompetent I lose the mayor gig, my political clout vanishes, and I'm just a worthless tin can rolling in the gutter?
Natural, legitimate, beyond question.
Would Seria bother with a me stripped of all value?
No way. She's a villain who chases efficiency and results. No lingering over a discarded tool.
She'd toss a sneer my way and hunt for a better pawn.
That's when I grab my slush fund stash and slip away clean.
"Mayor? Got some good news?"
"Oh, no. Just... this city's future looks bright."
Perfect! What a brilliant plan!
I internally applaud my genius.
But hold on. One issue.
How do I look incompetent?
The original Lee Garam was a natural screw-up. He bungled everything effortlessly, turning city hall into a dumpster fire.
But I'm different. I've got years of modern office life under my belt. Basic common sense, social graces. And original story knowledge to boot.
I might accidentally come off as competent.
So... play the fool to perfection.
Yes. From now on, I strive to be Neo Incheon's most inept, pitiful mayor ever.
"That concludes the morning city administration meeting."
I rise with the closing declaration. My steps feel light as clouds.
My path ahead is paved smooth. Just the rosy road to impeachment.
'Play dumb mayor, get impeached, snag slush funds, happy retirement. Am I a genius or what?'
Turning the corner, basking in my brilliance.
Thud.
Bump into something soft.
"Mayor."
"Eek!"
I jolt back in shock.
"W-what? Why're you lurking here? You scared me."
"You spaced out the whole meeting, then grinned to yourself in the hall. Quite the sight. I was savoring it."
"...!"
My heart plummets.
'She didn't read my mind, did she? No, she's superhuman but no mind-reader... probably.'
To dodge the crisis, I shut my brain off cold.
I plaster on the goofiest grin and sidle up.
"Haha, really? Meeting dragged. Anyway, got a big issue."
"Big issue? Something bigger than the budget we just passed?"
"Totally. Lunch... jjajangmyeon? Or pork cutlet?"
Seria just stares, unblinking.
"Mayor. It's 10:32 AM."
"Uh... so?"
"Brain already nixing everything but lunch? Or was that your sole factory setting? Latter, I think."
"Ha, haha."
Awkward chuckle.
Good. She pegs me as harmless.
My grand impeachment project kicked off smooth.
Five PM. Every clock in the mayor's office chimes the hour.
Today's official schedule: done. Not by me, though. I sat; magic happened.
Neo Incheon: fairy realm of ace staffers.
Atop it all, I'm idleness incarnate.
Staff sends approvals; I stamp.
That's my gig.
Simple system. Simple routine.
"Hoo..."
I sink into the leather chair, exhale long.
Neo Incheon's skyscrapers glow sunset outside.
[With Citizens, With Heroes! Dynamic City Neo Incheon!]
City hall homepage slogan, front and center.
Dynamic. Yeah. So dynamic, buildings shatter, roads flip daily.
Neo Incheon. Superpower metro. K-Hero holy ground. Villain playground too.
This won't do. Can't keep this up.
But I'm too passive now. Passive flops just flop—no rage.
Need active idiocy. Creative idiocy. Neck-snapping, artistic incompetence.
Public sentiment's core?
Safety.
Yes. Faith in stretching out carefree. Homes, jobs safe come morning.
When that trust cracks, sentiment crashes to hell—all blame arrows at the top dog: me.
"Good."
I leap up, flick on the desk touchscreen. Neo Incheon's 3D map blooms full-screen.
Lines, dots weave like veins.
Thickest, rhythmic ones: Special Task Force patrol routes. City hall's direct anti-villain elites.
Routes: peak efficiency from villain data, layout, density. Perfection.
So shatter it. Max inefficient, illogical, pointless.
Finger glides the map.
Skip central biz district, skirt hotspots, ignore infra—pure geometric doodles.
Wait. Kinda dull.
Grab smartphone, hit portal. Horoscope banner sparkles.
"Today's zodiac... Capricorn!"
Ideal! Yes!
Back to map, trace Capricorn.
"Heh heh..."
Beautiful. Goat-route blind to safety.
Gaps obvious, crime spikes.
Grumbles erupt, press dubs me horoscope nut mayor.
Mouth curls wild.
No hesitation. Direct line to Special Task Force command.
[Yes, Special Task Force situation room. How can we assist?]
"Me."
[Pardon? Who might this be...]
"Mayor Lee Garam. Don't know my voice?"
[Loyalty! Mayor! What is it?]
"Special Task Force patrol route—change now."
Channel peak arrogance. Fits old Garam fine.
[Pardon? But current route...]
"No lip. Sending diagram. Patrol that day's zodiac shape henceforth. Clear?]
Transmit new route to data room.
[......]
Receiver silence. 'Zodiac patrol' baffles or repels.
[Uh, Mayor. This Capricorn... tactical meaning?]
"Capricorn fortune's prime today! Zodiac vibes power up the Force!"
[But if Captain learns...]
"I'm Neo Incheon mayor! Peel if I say! Execute!]
[Y-yes, sir!]
Hang up, slump deep in chair.
Heart thrums sweet. Days away: screams citywide, polls tank.
Genius. Incompetence genius.
Then.
Voiceless voice behind.
"Mayor."
"Eek!"
Nearly tumble off chair. Heart leaps out.
When'd she appear? Seria looms. Turquoise eyes lock serene.
"Heard you swapped Special Task Force patrols."
Busted. Duh—in this hall, nothing escapes her.
"To Capricorn shape."
"Oh, that?"
I lounge back cocky, arms crossed.
"Our Special Task Force routes? Too stiff, cold. Efficiency uber alles. Intimidates folks, right? City needs heart, not robot runs."
Not even I get it. Pure babble.
"So symbolic hope for citizens!"
"City security to horoscopes?"
"Science! Cosmic science! Zodiacs pack cosmic energy!"
My spiel: her lip twitches micro—visible sneer. Sure bet.
"Star-etch emotion in drab city! Citizens scan map app, spot Force path like night stars—, hope! My new admin vision!"
Even I admire the bull.
This? She'll clock me: 'Our mayor's a total loony.' Done.
So please. Ditch me fast, snag new puppet.