Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Bakery
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"…Bread?"
The girl echoed.
Sugar Girl's candy-like eyes trembled faintly.
Ah, I get it.
I totally get it.
Let me recap the situation one more time.
I'm the top authority in this city. The mayor.
She's a C-rank villain threatening the city. A criminal.
She was just suddenly grabbed and threatened with being shipped off to Ganghwa Island, right?
To a girl on the verge of being thrown into a den of vicious villains, a bakery?
It's so out of left field. Of course she can't grasp it. Cognitive dissonance is only natural.
I'd be confused too if I were in her shoes.
But this girl's thought process seems to operate on a plane far beyond my imagination.
"Bread…? Lock… bread…? You mean you're gonna lock me up in jail right now?"
"…Huh?"
"I knew it! I knew you'd say that! You're gonna throw me in prison after all! You cowardly adult! You vicious politician! Is it that fun messing with people!?"
"No. Not that bread."
What kind of fresh twist is this?
Bread. Lockup.
Wordplay. Rhyme. Brilliant.
"No, not bread in that sense. Edible bread."
I tried to calmly clear up the misunderstanding.
"Ed… edible… bread…? You said bakery…? If it's a 'house'… No way! Your house? You're taking me to your house and little by little every day… me…?"
Sugar Girl's face turned stark white.
She looked at me like a child from a fairy tale, lured to a gingerbread house by a witch, moments from being devoured—like Hansel and Gretel.
"Calm down, calm down. Who's gonna eat you? I'm a foodie, not a cannibal. Though your hair did taste pretty good."
"You did eat me! Even if it was just a little!"
"Hey, I just tasted it. Just a taste. Like a quality test."
"I'm not a snack! Even if I am tasty… Anyway, I don't let just anyone eat me!"
A scream. The girl's sentimental cry.
I rubbed my forehead.
How is this kid's brain wired? Is it filled with fluffy sponge cake instead of brains? Or sweet whipped cream?
Maybe it really is. She's a girl made entirely of sugar candies. No guarantee her brain isn't jelly or pudding.
All her thinking seems based on sugar and sweets. She interprets the whole world through the prism of desserts.
Impressive, even admirable. In terms of creativity.
"Real bread. Edible bread. The bakery kind—flour dough baked in an oven."
"You want me to… actually make bread?"
"Yeah. Bakery. Patisserie. Boulangerie. Call it whatever. What matters is you can make people happy."
Alright, misunderstanding cleared.
Now, time for the main point.
The prelude to my grand 'ruin-my-reputation' project, the 'Insult to the Rice-Loving Nation' operation.
Why bread?
Why bread of all things?
There's deep, philosophical reasoning behind it.
Koreans. Who are we? As I said before, we're a rice-eating people.
A race with genes that only feel satisfied after three steaming bowls of white rice a day.
At the root of our sensibilities is always that steaming white rice, vapors rising gently.
And what am I shoving in there?
Bread.
That's right. Bread.
Bread, not rice. Wheat, not grain.
This isn't just a food change. It's an attack on identity, a challenge to culture.
Think about it. Rice is ours uniquely. Made from grain grown by farmers sweating on this land for millennia. A soul food containing our history's joys and sorrows.
But bread?
Bread is Western. Food sliced by blond foreigners with hard knives.
To us, it's less a meal and more a light snack.
Something permitted only as dessert after rice, doomed to second place.
And yet, that bread.
If I, the mayor of Neo Incheon, use city funds to officially promote it?
This is cultural sycophancy. Betrayal of tradition.
A cultural invasion using wheat—the vanguard of Western imperialism—to eradicate our native rice culture.
A direct challenge to our pride as a 'rice-loving nation,' a blasphemous betrayal of our ancestors' spirits.
The outcome is obvious.
Rice farmers nationwide will drive tractors to city hall.
Traditional Korean restaurant owners will protest, their livelihoods threatened.
'The mayor's gone mad!'
'He's destroying Korea's unique food culture!'
'He's taking our rice bowls to fill the foreigners' bread plates!'
The internet will be plastered with condemnations of 'traitor Lee Garam,' and I'll be branded a national betrayer and cultural destroyer overnight.
Is there a more perfect scenario?
No physical damage, no loss of life.
Just by messing with 'rice flavor,' incite public fury and self-destruct.
True intelligent suicide.
#CrazyLeeGaram will top trends again, and my approval rating will plummet through the floor into the Earth's core.
"…No."
Unaware of my grand plan, Sugar Girl shook her head firmly.
"Why?"
"I'm the villain Sugar Girl… no, the Sugar Monster."
Her head drooped, her voice damp with tears.
"…Who would eat bread I made?"
The confident figure who plunged the city into chaos with her sweet confections was gone.
"My bread has my powers mixed in. People would hate it if they knew. No one… no one would eat bread I made."
Her shoulders trembled faintly.
"I just wanted to see people happy eating the desserts I made…"
Tears mixed with sincerity.
Hmm.
This is a problem.
A big problem.
An unexpected variable in my plan.
Self-loathing. Self-denial. Self-pity.
The loser trio.
Words from a villain-labeled girl were far wetter and heavier than expected.
Mumbling with slumped shoulders, she was no longer the villain smashing streets.
Just a girl whose dream was broken.
A pitiful being rejected by the world.
This development isn't beautiful.
My grand, evil plan can't bog down in melodrama from the start.
Pity and sympathy won't help my cause.
I need anger. Hatred. And sound logic.
Time to cut off her sentimental monologue.
Effectively and mercilessly.
"Question!"
I thrust my right index finger skyward.
Like a courtroom lawyer raising a decisive objection.
Like a debate panelist piercing a logical flaw.
Sugar Girl startled and looked up at my sudden move.
Good. Eye contact secured.
Now, time to hammer my logic, my philosophy, the laws forming this nation's foundation into her head.
"To begin with. Do you think something like bread can beat rice?"
I looked down at her arrogantly.
Intentional belittling. Clear provocation.
Like rubbing salt in her wounds.
But it's fine. Wounds must fester to burst, and embers need wind to ignite.
"This land is a rice staple nation. Rice has side dishes, stews. That's why it's invincible!"
I spread my arms dramatically like a stage actor.
"The holy trinity of rice, sides, and stew! But bread? What does bread have? Jam? Butter? Maybe soup? No substance! You get hungry again soon! No matter how it flies, it's at best number two! Eternal runner-up! That's bread's limit!"
My tirade filled the mayor's office.
A dogmatic rice-centric worldview I'd admire myself.
A universally valid claim most Neo Incheon citizens would nod to.
And it was enough to touch Sugar Girl's sore spot.
"…What did you say?"
Her voice turned ice-cold.
"Did you just insult bread?"
"Insult? I just stated facts."
Tears dried in her eyes, replaced by boiling rage.
The fury of an artist whose sacred domain was invaded.
"What did you just babble, you… you rice weevil!"
Sugar Girl twisted in her restraints and yelled.
Rice weevil.
Hm. Fresh insult.
Means a useless human who just consumes rice. Very creative.
The affectionate(?) barbs Seria pours on me daily.
'Today too, Mayor, you've contributed nothing to the world beyond turning air into CO2.'
'Even with advanced AI, you're irreplaceable, Mayor. No AI could replicate your incompetence.'
'Did your brain cells go on summer vacation? Your IQ is fiercely competing with the room temperature.'
Compared to those, Sugar Girl's words are child's play.
Zero damage. Actually kinda cute.
"Don't insult bread! What would a rice-guzzler like you know about bread's greatness!"
Rice-guzzler.
This one's good too. Maybe use it on Seria later.
'Seria, you're such a rice-guzzler.'
…Nah. Poisoned coffee on my desk the next day for sure.
"Bread is such a great food! A magnificent invention alongside human history! When ancient Egyptians harvested wheat with Nile miracles and first leavened dough—that awe, that emotion—it's been passed down to today!"
Passion filled her voice.
"The baguette opening French village mornings! The croissant commemorating Austrian victories! The hearty rye bread of German farmers! Focaccia soaking up Italian sun! India's naan! Mexico's tortilla! Living history books containing each nation's history, culture, winds, and sunlight! That's bread!"
Oh.
Scale's growing.
"Ever seen a croissant's honeycomb cross-section? The crisp-soft harmony from layering butter meticulously! It's science and art! The savory aroma bursting from a baguette's hard crust, the joy of its moist, chewy interior—you'll never understand it in your lifetime? Flour, water, salt, yeast. Infinite variations from just four ingredients—the aesthetic of creation! That's bread!"
This is the picture I wanted.
Passion, not pity. Rage, not resignation.
"And you say just sides and stew? Ha! How outdated! So many meal combos with just bread! Sandwiches! Panini! Bruschetta! Pizza's basically bread too if you think broadly! A complete entity shining on its own, no need to lean on others like rice! That's bread's aesthetic—what would rice weevils and guzzlers know!"
The girl unleashed without breathing.
"Hek… hek… hek…"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Excellent defense."
"Don't patronize me!"
Time for the final nail.
The cruelest reality to douse her passion.
"So?"
"So what!"
"Such a grand, great, artistic bread. Too bad. This isn't France or Germany—it's Neo Incheon. This country's a rice nation ultimately. Still gonna stake your life on bread?"
Silence fell.
Sugar Girl glared, breathing raggedly. Sweet scent thickened around her, sugar particles sparkling in the air.
She's a villain.
And every villain has their own convictions and grit.
"…Fine."
After a long pause, she spoke.
"I'll do it. That bakery."
She'd prove her worth, bread's greatness, and flatten this rice-weevil mayor's nose.
"I'll show you. This city can be a bread nation, not rice! I'll make everyone happy with my bread and prove you wrong!"
Of course, not wanting to go to Ganghwa Island was a big factor too.
"Good. Deal."
I smiled satisfied and released her restraints.
As the cables loosened, Sugar Girl staggered to her feet.
"Come on, partner. Shake on it."
I offered my hand.
Sugar Girl hesitated, then grudgingly took it.
Instantly, a sticky sensation spread across my palm.
Her hand was tacky, like dipped in warm sugar syrup.
I casually licked the syrup off my palm.
"Mmm. Vanilla flavor."
"Wh-what are you doing! You pervert mayor! Don't eat it!"
She screamed and hurriedly backed away.
The artist's dignity preaching bread's glory vanished, leaving only a shy girl exposed in her secret.
Blushing like her panty color was revealed. I just sampled today's flavor.
"Isn't tasting your partner standard procedure?"
"There's no such procedure!"
And so, our bizarre, sweet, sticky partnership began.