Chapter 22

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 22

Chapter Title: The Mayor's Sponsorship

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They say labor is sacred. They say the sight of someone sweating away at work is beautiful.

I don't know who spread such nonsense, but it's probably some capitalist who's never earned a dime through honest labor, or a cunning ideologue trying to manipulate the masses for personal gain.

What does "sacred" even mean? Something so holy and pure that it cannot be defiled.

Does the act of labor truly hold such value?

If it did, no office worker in the world would struggle so desperately to escape it.

People dream of winning the lottery, praise unearned income, and set early retirement as the ultimate goal of life.

This contradiction. This self-deception.

The conclusion is simple. Labor is not sacred.

It's grueling, boring, and they pay you to do what you don't want to do.

You trade your time and mental energy for currency.

It's just an exchange for survival.

True sanctity lies in liberation from labor—in other words, slacking off.

Therefore, my current—using a mountain of documents as a fortress to devote the mayor's office hours to watching a D-rank cute girl hero's personal stream—is the epitome of professional slacking. I'm the Lionel Messi of salaried loafers.

Just then, on the screen, the blonde girl—hero name Polaris, Hanasia—let out a scream.

[Ugh! Get away! You pigeons! My sandwich! That's my precious lunch!]

A desperate battle unfolding while filming a vlog in the park. Her opponents? A flock of pigeons, symbols of peace.

But Neo Incheon's pigeons are on a whole different level from ordinary ones.

Having consumed genetically modified corn leaked from the Cheongna Research Complex over many years, they've grown to the size of small dogs, gained crow-level intelligence, and developed aggressive tendencies. Academics even call them "Neo Pigeons" with a fancy scientific name.

Far from symbols of peace, they're ecosystem disruptors, sky gangsters, winged mobsters.

A D-rank hero fighting valiantly to protect her freshly bought convenience store sandwich from these outlaws.

What a tear-jerking, heartbreaking sight.

[No way! Anything but the tuna mayo! I won't give that up!]

I casually picked up my smartphone and hit the sponsor button.

Nickname, of course: "IluwaIt."

The arrival of a creepy online uncle scarier than sky thugs.

PPAPABAM!

Perfect. My groundwork for impeachment is going smoothly today as well.

A nickname and message dripping with lowly, impure intent. Could there be better buffalo bait?

[Uh... Wh-what?! IluwaIt!]

Hanasia's movements froze for a split second. The pigeon boss didn't miss that gap, snatching the sandwich from her hand and flying off into the sky.

[Ahh!! My lunch!!!]

Her dazed expression. But soon, upon checking the sponsor message, her face flushed bright red.

[Uncle! You're back! And I told you no secret friends! I'm a hero! A-and dates are even more...! But thank you so much! I'll use this money precious for justice in Neo Incheon!]

Excellent. Project Groundwork for My Impeachment is progressing smoothly.

Over the past few weeks, my routine had simplified.

9 AM: Late arrival to work.

10 AM: Work starts amid Seria's sharp tongue.

11 AM: Polaris stream viewing and 1 million won sponsorship.

This is my new routine. Mayor Lee Garam's wise viewing life.

At first, the girl Hanasia freaked out and offered refunds.

But through my persistent sponsorships and mature counsel, she finally saw me as a slightly odd but reliable buffalo.

She still squirmed uncomfortably at my utterly lecherous support.

Expressing thanks while begging me not to overdo it, she never once used the sponsorship money or items for personal gain.

A truly upright, stubbornly naive, heartwarmingly kind hero.

And that's exactly the perfect ingredient to drag my reputation into the gutter.

[IluwaIt: If training's tough, taking a day off is an option too.]

[IluwaIt: Don't rush. Stars shine at their own pace, without hurry.]

How hypocritical.

Warm advice from a villain to the side of justice.

This irony. This absurdity. I marveled at my own acting skills.

Of course, my support wasn't just cash handouts. I moved with precision and planning.

[Uncle, my gear support request keeps getting rejected due to admin procedures. Hng... 😭]

When Sia vented on stream, I'd immediately call the Superpower Management Division's Hero Support Department and chew out the person in charge.

"Hey, are D-rank hero gear support forms that complicated? Simplify the process. Mayor's orders."

[Wow! Everyone! My application just got approved! How did this happen?]

Prototype combat boots for the Special Task Force that "didn't fit sizes" ended up with her. Super-regen ointment and supplements were delivered to her rundown goshiwon under the excuse of nearing expiration.

[IluwaIt... You don't have to go this far... Really... You're amazing. How do you even...]

Of course, she had no idea this was all Mayor Lee Garam's doing. She just thought it was the fanatic fandom of a mysterious soup fan, "IluwaIt."

My perfect plan. Using the mayor's power to grant special favors to a specific hero.

This is my express ticket to impeachment.

Rumors were starting to circulate inside City Hall.

"Heard? The mayor's obsessed with some D-rank hero lately. D-ranks keep popping up in support lists. Weird, right?"

"Polaris? Who's that? Maybe... the mayor's secret girlfriend?"

"Nah, no way. With Seria around? He'd need ten lives."

Good, very good. The rumors were growing like weeds.

The City Hall break room pantry was my little club for opinion manipulation.

Worth stocking it with top-shelf macarons, chocolates, and coffee pods.

Sweets draw women, and women draw gossip.

The seeds of suspicion sown in fertile soil would soon bear luscious fruit.

When it all comes out someday, the public will rage at the mayor's shamelessness, and I'll slip away to the South Pacific.

That day, as usual, I lounged on the office sofa, nearly supine, watching Hanasia's stream with a satisfied smile.

Hanasia sweating buckets at the Superhero Training Center where I'd sent her a VIP pass.

Now, the highlight: sponsorship time.

I input 1 million won as usual, pondering what creepy message to send today.

[Sponsor Message: Heh heh... Our Sia looks so good even while exercising.]

The moment I went to hit send.

Swish.

A chilling chill ran down my spine.

The room felt 10 degrees colder.

This sensation. Familiar.

Terror. Primal threat to life.

My natural predator. My dominator.

Slowly, very slowly, I raised my head.

Icy turquoise eyes stared down at my smartphone screen, right in front of me.

It was Seria.

"Mayor. You look quite entertained."

Her voice was colder than Siberian winter winds.

"Enjoying a very enlightening hobby during office hours, I see."

"Oh, oh no! Seria! This isn't what you think!"

"Misunderstanding. Such a convenient word. But all foolish excuses in the world start with it."

"No, I mean! This is an extension of work! Right, civilian inspection! Investigating the harsh working conditions and ecosystem of D-rank heroes—a very important inspection!"

"Oh? Sticking your face to a smartphone screen with a lecherous grin, peeking at a freshly adult hero sweating—that's your new inspection method, Mayor? Very creative. Shall I make promotional materials and share with all departments?"

Seria pointed at my smartphone with an expressionless face. The screen showed the message I'd just typed: "You look so cute exercising. Heh heh."

"N-no! I hadn't hit send yet! Attempted crime, attempted! Presumption of innocence!"

"Do you know how much budget has been wasted in the past month on your lowly tastes, Mayor?"

Seria pulled out a tablet PC from her pocket and shoved the screen in my face.

Under the horrifying title "D-Rank Hero Polaris Special Favor Budget Misallocation Records," my misdeeds were densely listed.

"Cumulative cash sponsorships: 30 million won. Special Task Force prototype gear diversions: 5 cases. City budget underpayments: 2 cases... This could run three urgently needing C-rank hero teams for a month. And you poured it all into one D-rank girl who loses sandwiches to pigeons. Does a blonde underage girl trigger some special fetish of yours, Mayor?"

"F-fetish?! That's too harsh! Inv-investment! Right! This is an investment for the future! Don't underestimate Mayor Lee Garam's eye for talent!"

"What future does your 'great eye' see? You don't seriously believe that girl will become an S-rank hero, do you?"

"Sh-she could! Human potential is infinite!"

"Infinite potential. Such beautiful words. Then I must have infinite potential too. Like the possibility of casually shoving you out the window. Of course, probabilistically slim, but if potential is infinite, it could happen."

"Hey!"

Cornered, my voice rose unwittingly.

"Understood. So that's your type, Mayor. Blonde, young, a bit dim... I'll keep it in mind for future secretarial hires."

"That's not it! I... I..."

I desperately made excuses. Cold sweat poured like rain.

What should I say? Any other excuse?

"Honestly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my type is... more intellectual, capable, and cool..."

Done for.

My mouth had run ahead. I wanted to rip out my tongue.

The office air froze instantly.

I thought I saw Seria's turquoise eyes tremble faintly.

No, must be my imagination. That ice-cold secretary couldn't have emotional fluctuations.

Hanasia has no parents.

Hanasia is an orphan.

Hanasia grew up in an orphanage.

If a self-introduction starts with those three sentences, her resume pass rate would approach 0%.

Unless it's a tragedy contest. Sympathy isn't a hiring criterion.

Orphan. Lonely "go" (), child "a" ().

Defined as a lonely child.

Such a direct, violent word. Like stamping "you are alone."

But young Hanasia didn't think that way.

She decided not to.

Orphan. Noble "go" (), self "a" ().

Yes, a noble self. A child untouched by the world's filth, shining alone from on high.

Doesn't that sound cooler?

Of course, arbitrarily changing hanja makes it no longer an orphan, but minor issue.

Besides, Hanasia had one clear difference from other kids.

Her golden hair unlike others, the small light blooming from her fingertips.

When she first discovered that light, every adult at the orphanage was shocked. A superpowered individual. A rare light-manipulating ability user at that.

"Our Sia is a truly special child."

When the director nun said that, Hanasia thought:

Ah, I really was born special.

Not abandoned, but chosen.

Sophistry. Self-deception. Reality distortion.

But not all truths hold proper value. Sometimes, a well-crafted lie saves a life more than truth.

So Hanasia chose to believe that lie.

"Staring at the ceiling again?"

Orphanage little sister Minji wriggled into the blanket.

A shabby room for twelve kids. Air mixed with disinfectant and damp dust.

Ceiling plastered with glow-in-the-dark star stickers, now faded.

"Yeah. Watching the stars."

"Liar. The glow stars died last night. Just plastic scraps now."

Minji was always realistic. She had dreams, but valued tomorrow's breakfast more. Hanasia envied that a bit.

"No. Close your eyes and look with your heart. See? Big Dipper there. Cassiopeia over there."

"Hmm. To me, it's just a blotchy ceiling. Sia unnie must have special filters on her eyes."

Special filters.

Maybe.

A convenient filter auto-converting all worldly sorrow and despair to positivity and hope. Without it, she couldn't survive this harsh world.

Ten years ago. Neo Incheon's air was unusually sticky.

Late summer. Cicada cries mixed with asphalt heat, clogging eardrums one afternoon.

Eight-year-old Hanasia sat on the orphanage playground's rusty swing.

In hand, an ice cream from the director nun, bitten once.

Vanilla. The plainest, thus tastiest flavor.

That plainness shattered in an instant.

KUGUGUNG.

Earth quaked. Buildings screamed. All familiar noises swallowed by one massive roar.

Sky tore. Literally, a black spatial rift split the city sky like a huge wound.

From that wound, "they" poured out.

Gate. Monsters. Disasters defying human logic.

Why? How? Questions meaningless. Disaster doesn't seek understanding. It just comes.

Twisted carapaces, writhing tentacles, dozens of compound eyes flashing meaningless murder.

Chaos everywhere.

Screams, cries, tearing metal, collapsing buildings.

Hanasia froze. Ice cream dropped to dirt with a plop.

Couldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even think to run. Overwhelming despair halts human thought.

Before her eyes, a massive chitin-armored arthropod monster trampled people like toys.

Its sharp maw approached her nose. Foul breath of rotten fish and burning tires hit her face.

Ah, I'm dying.

Eight years of life. Short but not bad. She tried to think that.

Positivity is survival skill. It worked even at death's door.

Then.

Sky turned red.

Like another blazing sun rose. No, brighter, hotter, more overwhelming light.

HWAAAAAK—!

Flame storm engulfed monsters like devouring the world. They scattered as ash without screams.

At the blaze's center stood one woman.

Long red hair whipping in wind. Flames to burn the world.

Jin Yeonhwa.

Hero Association President. S-rank hero. Korea's strongest hero.

To child Hanasia's eyes, she was a phenomenon.

Hope against despair. Order quelling chaos. Justice against absurdity.

Hero.

That word etched into her brain. Like a hammer stamp, indelible.

In the ruins of ashes, Hanasia blankly looked skyward.

Jin Yeonhwa had gone to burn monsters elsewhere, but her red afterimage lingered long.

It was salvation. Not just of life.

After that day, Hanasia's world changed.

Being an orphan no longer mattered. Poverty, loneliness, future worries—irrelevant.

She had a goal.

I want to be like that.

Be light to someone drowning in despair like her.

It was admiration. But also a curse. A heavy burden once embraced, impossible to set down.

A dream.

The cheapest, thus cruelest thing.

Doesn't know parents' faces. No photos left.

Why abandoned? Just left at orphanage door one cold winter day.

Swaddled newborn. Cliché, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hackneyed trope.

In drama, birth secret hidden. Reality? Boring.

Just abandoned. Nothing more, nothing less.

So she started looking at the sky.

Ground shows abandoned self; sky shows countless stars.

Are those stars alone too?

Shining solo across billions of light-years?

Not lonely?

One day, learned of the North Star.

Always in place, guiding the lost.

Silent guardian of northern sky as others shift with seasons.

Looking at it, she thought:

Ah. I want to be like that.

Even if not everyone finds their way by me, if just one lost in despair ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sees me and finds hope.

That would make being alone okay.

"Polaris."

"Huh? What, unnie?"

"My hero name. Polaris."

"Polaris? What's that? Candy name?"

"Means North Star. Cool, right?"

"Hmm... Kinda hard. How about Sparkly? Easier and cuter."

Kids' naming sense is intuitive. But Hanasia shook her head.

Many sparkly things. Few guiding stars.

North Star.

Always in the same spot, showing direction to the lost.

The hopeful signpost first seen in dark night sky.

She wanted to be that special star.

Look at me (). I'll show you. How Hanasia () becomes a star.