Chapter 32

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 32

Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Master

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After that.

The world changed.

No, the world stayed the same. It was the way the world treated me, Insimdang, and Sugargirl that had changed.

Before, Insimdang had been seen as the forward base for biochemical terrorism or an alchemical workshop bent on destroying taste buds. Now, it had become a holy site.

Yes, a holy site.

Pilgrimages to the holy site. The birth of a new religion. They were all devotees gathered for the same purpose.

To receive the god called bread.

Every day at dawn, long lines formed in front of the shop.

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

Number tickets had long since run out, and scalpers were rampant, even forming stock-like market prices.

People pulled all-nighters for a single loaf of bread, took vacation days for expeditions, and even a new breed of romantic proposed with an Insimdang bread box.

"This... isn't right."

Drug Bread Shop.

That's what people called Insimdang.

A nod to its addictiveness, more potent than any narcotic, and its ecstasy more intense than any hallucinogen.

Those who tasted the bread all muttered in a dazed expression.

"More... give me more..."

"I can never go back to the me before this..."

"I have to come back tomorrow... no matter what it takes..."

Famous mukbang streamers rushed to post reviews, idol groups inquired about filming music videos there, and even Hero Association President Jin Yeonhwa personally requested a cake.

Neo Incheon's new landmark.

No, the birth of a myth.

So what about my impeachment project?

My grand escape plan?

This was success. Undeniable, overwhelming, irrefutable success.

But, but.

This wasn't the kind of success I wanted.

My failure was supposed to be art. My downfall philosophical.

This was just...

Delicious.

"Damn it."

It pissed me off, but I had to admit it.

It was delicious.

Insanely delicious.

That fact made me unbearably miserable.

"Report on Insimdang. This morning, sold out all prepared stock within one hour of opening. Repeat visit rate 92.4%. Online positive sentiment 99.8%. Citizen complaint board paralyzed with praises for you, Mayor, and demands for Insimdang franchises."

"Stop. Just stop. I don't want to hear it."

"You've even earned a new nickname: Sweet Lee Garam. Congratulations, sweet Mayor. Nominated for Mayor of the Year for boosting the city economy. How about preparing an acceptance speech? Something like 'All glory to the bread.'"

Seria, standing beside me before I knew it, whispered in an irritating tone.

"Shut up."

"Or 'I merely added a spoon to the pot.' Perfectly highlights your incompetence while feigning humility."

"Quiet before I use that spoon to smack your forehead."

"Oh my, violent Mayor. Can't let citizens see that. Approval ratings would drop."

That irritating mouth. But not a word was wrong.

My approval ratings were shattering records.

People had started revering me not just as the 'Hidden Dragon' but as the 'King Dragon'.

When I went out for lunch, entire commercial districts buzzed just because it was a spot endorsed by Lee Garam.

I was becoming this city's savior.

All because of one bread.

What an absurd comedy.

And today, the climax of that comedy would unfold.

At the filming site of the TV show Master of Delicious Spots.

I sank into the living room sofa and turned on the wall-mounted TV.

Monday night, 9 PM. Airing of Master of Delicious Spots: Insimdang Edition.

[Today on Master of Delicious Spots, we're at the hottest—no, the sweetest—hotspot in Neo Incheon right now! Insimdang!]

The camera panned over the endless line, close-up on citizens biting into bread with ecstatic faces.

It was noisy.

Chaotic.

Today's star, Sugargirl.

Gone was her usual menhera vibe; she wore the confident face of a pro patissier.

She seemed thrilled that her 'art' was being revealed to the world.

[Master! What menu will you show us today?]

"Insimdang's signature. The devilish twist that makes anyone kneel after one taste: 'Devil's Twist'!"

She shouted dramatically, holding up a large stainless steel bowl.

[Any secret to the Master's special recipe?]

"Sure, I'll share a bit. This isn't ordinary dough! First, glutinous rice flour ground from organically grown sticky rice here in Neo Incheon, mixed in golden ratio with top-grade flour airlifted from France!"

Oh ho. Sounds promising.

[Special flavor secret in this dough?]

"Add natural sourdough fermented at low temp for 72 hours! Blanch wild dolnamul grown on morning dew alone for aroma!"

Dolnamul?

In twist bread?

My brow furrowed instinctively. What kind of combo is that?

[But it doesn't end there?]

"And today's highlight! Fresh scallops just caught off Ulwangni coast!"

Sugargirl proudly held up a live scallop. It flapped, spraying water.

Wait, hold on. Time out.

Scallops? In twist bread? Making seafood pancakes now?

[Scallops in twist bread? Master's know-how for chewy dough!]

"Scallops are chewy, right? So they make the twist even chewier! But raw would be fishy, so blanch in hot water, discard guts boldly! Extract only plump adductor muscles! Mince each thread by my delicate hands!"

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Her knife danced like possessed.

Gasps from the staff.

"Amazing... that hand speed...!"

"That's the soul of the artisan...!"

Soul my ass. That's just madness. The knife frenzy that terrorized the city.

[But it doesn't end there?]

That line again.

"Next, corn! Peel kernels one by one by hand, wrap in clean cloth! Top with cinnamon stick. Place over empty barrel, pour boiling water whooosh~"

She poured hot water with lab-like seriousness.

"Pure corn starch extracted! Add to dough for chewiness and subtle sweetness!"

I clutched my head.

This wasn't cooking.

Alchemy. No, black magic.

[Another secret ingredient!]

"Add oven-roasted sweet pumpkin pureed finely! Finally! Crack nutrition-packed quail eggs! Pop! And Sugargirl's special twist dough complete~!"

She hoisted the finished dough triumphantly.

The dough... how to put it.

Had an odd color.

Like mud, or a swamp.

Anything but appetizing.

No, honestly, bread from that? Eat that?

Now I knew why it originally tasted awful.

Made like that, of course it wouldn't! Mockery of food!

[But! Wait! Really! Truly! It doesn't end there???]

Ah, please stop.

"Frying oil is special too! Fry fresh Brussels sprouts first to infuse veggie sweetness! Then fry sweet onions for extra flavor!"

[Frying process intense too! Such depth in one bread?]

"Plop that lovable dough into the magic oil~"

Sizzle—

Oil bubbled merrily.

Soon, Sugargirl lifted golden, appetizing twists.

[The one-and-only Master Twist!?]

Shape was normal twist.

But thinking of dolnamul, scallops, corn starch, cabbage-fried oil inside... my stomach churned.

"And the grand finale!"

She pulled out a small glass jar.

Filled with snow-white fine powder.

"This! The final puzzle piece completing my twists! Sugargirl Powder!"

[Master! What's that mysterious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠powder?]

Sugargirl pressed finger to lips coyly.

"Hehe. Sorry, trade secret~"

She sprinkled white powder over the twists.

That moment.

The twists glowed.

No joke. For real.

Golden twists emanated soft, iridescent halo light.

Kitchen oil stench vanished; replaced by indescribably sweet, ecstatic aroma.

Like thousands of flowers blooming, ripe fruits bursting juice. Unreal.

All lost in the sight.

Me too.

'There it is. That damn magic powder. Sugargirl Powder(?)'

The culprit that foiled my honorable impeachment in an instant.

The miraculous alchemy turning grotesque ingredients into heavenly taste.

Sugargirl's superpower.

Her mutated body: purest, strongest sugar crystal on earth.

That powder harmonized all absurdity, ordered all chaos.

Annoying.

But...

I took a huge bite from a twist on the living room table.

Crunch.

Damn. Damn! Delicious!

A few days later, mayor's office.

Yeah, delicious.

No denying that fact. Can't deny it.

My tongue, stomach, brain, very existence remembers the taste.

Insimdang bread transcended 'delicious'—near religious experience.

The problem is.

What now?

My grand, intricate, artistic 'ruin the rice taste' project. What's its fate?

Plan was 'rice-tasteless mayor', not 'bread-god mayor'.

Deny and mock rice—soul of Koreans, essence of nation, community symbol—to incite generational fury.

That plan shipwrecked on one 'taste'.

No, not shipwreck. Nuked and vaporized.

Premise was bread can't beat rice. Naive delusion.

Sugargirl's bread was unimaginably delicious.

Beyond delicious.

Holy, transcendent, near-religious.

At this level, 'rice vs bread' framing meaningless.

"This isn't bread, it's artwork."

"No need to compete with rice. Different dimension food."

"Incredible place in our country! Neo Incheon's pride!"

Instead of expected 'Western food threatens tradition' backlash, pride in 'prestigious Neo Incheon spot' emerged.

"Mayor. What deep contemplation?"

Seria. Competent, beautiful, excruciatingly smug secretary.

"Not contemplation. Philosophical reflection. Dialectics of success and failure."

Businesslike tone. But mockery thicker than espresso. She tapped tablet with pen beside me.

"You look sour. Displeased with Insimdang's success?"

"Of course not. As mayor, why wouldn't I celebrate a local business thriving? Haha."

My laugh drier than rustling leaves.

"Naturally. Top contributor to your soaring ratings, especially youth. They're chanting 'Sweet Lee Garam' today. Expected. To your core 20s-30s base, bread's as vital as rice. No, trendier, hipper."

Seria machine-gunned facts mercilessly.

Rat-tat-tat—

My mind turning to Swiss cheese.

"To them, 'mom's home cooking, hometown flavors' are outdated cliches. Bread evokes 'brunch', 'Euro vibe', 'little luxury for me'. Iconoclast shattering old icons, pioneering trends. That's public view of you now."

Innovative leader? Me?

Me with embezzlement and flight on mind?

"No, but still! The boomers! Er, elders! They're different, right? They say bread bloats, poor digestion, 'Koreans run on rice'! Conservative voters! How do they see this? Boiling rage at me mocking rice sanctity, right?!"

Desperate plea. Seria unmoved.

"Why not check in person?"

Her turquoise eyes gleamed meaningfully.

Crowd. Crowd. Crowd.

Insimdang no longer youth-only hotspot.

Store packed with hiking-geared elders, grandma with stroller, cane-wielding grandpa.

All beaming happily, devouring bread ravenously.

"Heh heh, this is the stuff. Bread so hearty."

"Stomach feels great~. Better than rice, kid."

"Gotta buy for next-door geezer. Unfair to die without this taste."

"Kuh! Salty-sweet, bread stealing rice's thunder!"

My last hope shattering.

How? What sorcery?

They were my final bastion. Reversal foothold. Last warriors of 'anti-bread front'.

Why volunteer as POWs in enemy camp, smiling?

Then.

"Rice Tank Mayor! You came! Hehe."

Sugargirl burst from kitchen, sweet voice calling. Twintails bounced cheerily. Flour-dusted face brighter than ever.

"Praise me! You said rice best, Korean is global! So I prepared special!"

She pointed proudly to display shelf.

There...

[This Week's New Menu]

[Fluffy Rice Bread from Fortified Rice]

[Hearty Grandma-Style Fermented Soybean Baguette]

[Spicy Kimchi Croquette]

[Classic Sweet-Salty Palace Bulgogi Panini]

Elders eating those. Dipping fermented soybean baguette in soybean soup, chomping kimchi croquettes with pickled radish.

One grandpa stacked bulgogi panini on rice bread: 'bread sandwich' abomination.

People.

Eating.

Bread as banchan.

Biting bread, scooping rice: bizarre, horrific meal.

Rice-bread unification.

I wanted division, conflict—not this monstrous harmony!

"When did I... say that..."

Voice trailed off.

Ah.

I did.

Definitely.

When she wallowed in self-loathing menhera mode, to provoke her, I ranted rice's greatness. Rice as Korean soul, bread can't win.

That birthed this monstrosity.

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Self-inflicted.

Inevitable karma.

Perfect retribution?

"So, Mayor."

Seria's voice from behind.

"Curious yet? Why Insimdang prospers so?"

"I'm dying to know! Taste? Yeah, delicious! Location? Your pick, prime! Variety? Even those abominations! But! But!"

I jabbed the price tag on display.

"Price! What the hell! Insane! Selling this quality at this price—profit?!"

Didn't add up. Calculator defied math.

French flour, organic sticky rice, fortified rice, fresh ingredients. Labor, utilities...

"Why so cheap?!"

My scream. Seria calm, teacher to ignorant pupil.

"Simple. Three reasons."

"First, no rent. City-owned building you permitted. Biggest fixed cost gone."

True... part of my plan.

"Second, dropout owner patissier ignores cost ratios."

Her gaze to Sugargirl kneading happily in kitchen.

"Her only concern: 'How to make tastier, happier bread.' Not ingredients cost or margins. Futile expecting financials from sugar-chocolate-filled artist brain."

True. Expecting P&L from candy meadow girl? Absurd.

"Third. Most vital."

Seria nodded to kitchen depths.

"Ingredients barely cost anything."

"...What?"

Before grasping, I saw.

Sugargirl center kitchen, hands extended forward.

Then, empty palms.

Whoosh—

Snow-white sugar cascaded like waterfall, piling mountain in bowl.

Smiling satisfied, other hand.

Gush—

Rich brown chocolate filled empty vat.

Humming, snapped fingers.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Colorful macarons, jellies, candies rained from air.

Infinite production.

Zero cost.

Creation economy.

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"See, Mayor? I'm amazing, right? Make tons of delicious stuff!"

Walking confectionery factory: Sugargirl.

Taste, location, price.

Ultimate business model born.

Once more, my impeachment plan became genius venture, vigorously towing Neo Incheon's economy.