Chapter 36

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

Translator: penny

Chapter: 36

Chapter Title: The Mayor and Public Sentiment

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

"Woooah! Twenty years! For twenty years, no one's been able to snag my ice cream! You're the first, miss! My grandpa and grandma from Istanbul! They're gonna be thrilled! An angel who grabbed my ice cream has appeared!"

...Angel?

I glanced at Seria standing beside me.

She was expressionlessly licking her ice cream.

Hmm... She might be an angel, but more like an angel of death.

"Here! A gift! Special service!"

"No, I have to pay..."

"No! No money! Free! Free! Everyone come here! Today is happy day!"

When I came to my senses, a massive tower was in my hands.

A three-tiered tower made of ice cream.

Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.

A precarious structure of three colors stacked high, defying gravity head-on.

The Turkish vendor seemed thrilled for the first time that someone had foiled his trick. He started handing out his precious ice cream stock to passersby left and right.

"If you eat it like that, it'll melt and drip down in no time. For the sake of your public image as mayor, wouldn't it be better to eat it with a bit more dignity?"

Seria said, glancing at the ice cream tower in my hand.

I desperately balanced it to keep the tower from collapsing.

"Quiet! My frontal lobe is fully occupied calculating how to prevent this ice cream from crumbling!"

"Allocating all your brain's resources to a single ice cream. Neo Incheon's future is looking quite worrisome."

She mocked my desperate struggle and elegantly took another lick. That woman was definitely an S-rank annoyance ability user.

In the end, I gave up and started licking the ice cream. Sucking it. Gulping it down.

Dignity? That had already melted away with the ice cream and splattered onto the asphalt.

"Mayor, it's lunchtime. Shall we go?"

With that, we headed to a shabby little restaurant tucked in a corner of the market for lunch.

[70-Year Tradition Original Cow Head Gukbap]

"Wait, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hold on. Not here—somewhere a bit more... refined? Like a brunch cafe with organic salads. Or a restaurant with tablecloths."

"Mayor, this is Shinpo International Market. Not Songdo Central Park."

True, but...

Hold on, I spotted something odd again.

"Seria."

"Yes?"

"It says 70-year tradition here, but if my memory's right, didn't this place open last month?"

"Correct. It opened four weeks and three days ago."

"So how is it a 70-year tradition? Do they have time-manipulating superpowers or something?"

"The owner's grandma is 70 years old. Meaning all the know-how from her 70 years of life is in this gukbap. It's a poetic license."

"If that's allowed, then every shop in the world has a tradition! From today, call me the 30-year tradition mayor!"

What kind of sophistry is that?

But what can you do? In Korean society, words like "original" or "traditional" are sometimes just prefixes unrelated to taste or history.

The creaky wooden door swung open, and a rich aroma hit us.

A deep, funky beef bone broth smell. After days marinating in the sugar hell of Insimdang, my nose felt cleansed.

Yes, this is the smell.

Not sweet and salty nonsense, but the genuine umami scent at the root of flavor. Though the root might just be MSG.

"Come on over here, young lads! Sit!"

A wrinkled-faced grandma welcomed us.

"Two special cow head gukbap, please."

I ordered without hesitation the moment we sat down.

This authentic working-class food.

Honestly, I was a little excited.

Ever since possessing this body, it'd been expensive hotel cuisine, Seria's nutrient-packed but disgustingly healthy meals, and lately Insimdang's cosmic horror breads.

Moments later, two steaming stone pots were set before us. Scallions sprinkled over milky broth, loaded with tender cow head meat.

Slurp.

Ahh. This is it.

I dumped in two spoons of kkakdugi broth without hesitation, stirred in the chili powder to redden the soup, and dumped in a full bowl of rice.

Slurrrp—nom nom.

Ah, this taste. The deep, rich broth slides down my throat, warming my stomach. The soft meat melts before I can chew, and the crunchy kkakdugi cuts the richness.

This is who I am.

A totally ordinary everyman who loves gukbap over steak, soju over wine.

Glance.

I suddenly looked at Seria across from me.

But what the hell is she?

Sitting on a plastic chair in a rundown gukbap joint, yet she looked like she was at a Paris Michelin three-star VIP table.

Straight back, elegant fingers on the spoon, every motion of sipping broth dripping with grace.

Of course, Seria was eating gukbap too.

Eating gukbap, so why did her stone pot look like boeuf bourguignon from some fancy French restaurant?

She first savored the clear broth with her spoon. Then carefully mixed in rice. The angle of lifting the spoon, the speed to her mouth, not a drop spilled—meticulous perfection.

Even dabbing her lips with the napkin. A textbook of perfect table manners.

This is an insult to gukbap.

But at the same time, this is my chance.

Contrast her elegance with my tackiness.

If she's a lofty swan, I'm an ugly duckling rolling in the mud. No, just a pig.

An undignified mayor. A gluttonous public servant. A commoner obsessed with a bowl of gukbap.

The citizens will turn away from such a nouveau riche slob. I can hear the dislike stacking up.

Perfect! Operation commence.

Slurrrp!

I dunked my head into the pot like a maniac, slurping loudly. Lee Garam-style gukbap slurping form one: not face-diving, but broth-diving!

Crunch crunch! Crisp!

I chomped the kkakdugi and kimchi with my mouth wide open on purpose.

Slurrrp!

I grabbed the pot with both hands and chugged the remaining broth in one go.

"Burp."

A perfect belch to finish.

"That hit the spot!"

I patted my belly contentedly.

Behold this sight, citizens of Neo Incheon!

This is your mayor's true face! How ugly and frivolous!

Would you entrust your future to a guy like this!?

Seria continued her elegant meal, ignoring me completely. Like she couldn't care less if an orangutan was eating.

On the way out of the market after our filling meal.

Ah.

Isn't this what happiness is?

The sensation of hot, rich broth filling the stomach, warmth spreading through the body. Brain numbed with satisfaction, unable to think complicated thoughts.

Yes.

This is supreme bliss.

A primal pleasure that makes me forget political intrigue, the shadow's surveillance, escape plans.

The modest but certain happiness of an everyman.

The state I'd craved so much.

A pebble ripples the surface of that peaceful sensation.

No. Not a pebble.

A landslide.

WoooEEEEEENG—!

An ear-piercing megaphone shredded my eardrums.

Raw noise violence from cheap amps, sound quality be damned.

[No to Redevelopment! No! No!]

[Get out, corrupt contractors!]

[Guarantee our right to survival! Don't take our homes!]

A small war was brewing at the entrance to the rundown neighborhood called "Magpie Village," a bit away from the market.

Screeching chants from megaphones. Fierce expressions of residents with red headbands. Blocking them: menacing security from the construction company.

"What's that?"

"Magpie Village redevelopment site. The construction company has city permits and is pushing redevelopment legally, but some residents refuse to relocate and are protesting."

Magpie Village. Neo Incheon's infamous redevelopment hotspot.

The company had permits and was proceeding legally, but residents clung to their homes.

The company hired powered security with their funds, while Magpie Village had a surprising number of native ability users who'd lived there for generations.

So the security couldn't bulldoze, leading to a tedious standoff.

"......"

Hmm. Superpowered neighborhood squabble. Interesting, but...

I passed by without a word.

Magpie Village or Crow Village, none of my business.

What if I jumped in yelling "I'm with the citizens!"? Easy to picture. "Righteous mayor standing with the weak!" Approval ratings skyrocket again.

Side with the company? "Puppet of big capital!" backlash, but also "Decisive administrator!" praise.

Either way, dragged into a hassle.

My goal is singular: step down quietly, uneventfully.

"Mayor, don't you hear their voices?"

Seria asked. Her voice held no emotion.

"I hear them. Nice and noisy."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠replied indifferently.

"No feelings from their desperate cries?"

"I feel it. Post-lunch drowsiness—perfect white noise for a nap."

I said it even more coldly, indifferently.

Yes, witness this. I'm a cold-blooded man indifferent to citizens' pain.

Right to survival.

They're demanding their right to survival.

Then what about mine?

In this hellish world on thin ice daily, under super-villain surveillance, plotting escape—who guarantees my survival?

It's unfair.

I'm the one who should be screaming for survival rights the loudest in this world.

Back in the office, I flopped onto the sofa.

Ah, the office is the best. AC blasting, sofa plush.

"Mayor, public affairs office video report on today's inspection."

Seria handed me a tablet PC.

"Not watching. Obvious. 'Heartwarming mayor tours the streets.' Something like that."

"Just watch. They say the young staff edited it to 'modern vibes' this time."

Modern vibes? What?

Star filters or something?

Reluctantly, I took the tablet, and the video played.

[Mayor Hits the Market. Gukbap Gotta Be Done Right!]

The title was ominous from the start.

Fast-tempo BGM kicked in. Quick cuts of me shaking hands with vendors. Fruit vendor auntie handing an apple: "People's Generosity FLEX" subtitle.

Then the gukbap scene.

My face filled the screen in close-up. Slurping sounds with broth splatter in slow-mo. Adding kkakdugi broth: "Gukbap hits different like this~" in fancy font. Kimchi chomps with "Crunch!" ASMR effects.

"What the hell is this! Who told them to edit it like that!"

"Comments are exploding."

Seria said flatly. I scrolled to the comments.

"......"

I was speechless.

No.

No way.

This can't be.

I just wanted to be an undignified vagrant mayor. Draw ridicule with gluttony.

Why! Why does everyone love it!

"This is why modern politics sucks! Vote on policies, not faces or images—that's why the country's like this...!"

Of course, Lee Garam wasn't elected fairly either.

Top rivals all dropped out for weird reasons.

One suddenly retired from politics to Africa for lion conservation.

Another quit days before election when 20-year-old bribery evidence leaked to press. How it surfaced so precisely was a mystery.

Others: full-body fractures from stairs, claimed kidnappings, bizarre scandals ending careers.

Thinking back... urban legend level.

But unlike legends, the reality exists.

I slowly, very slowly turned to the pink-haired secretary.

Lee Garam is her masterpiece.

Incompetent, corrupt puppet mayor. Tool to check Hero Association, poke holes in city system.

Living with her months confirmed it. Original story's Lee Garam end? Her doing for sure.

Anyway, resignation won't end it.

Only way: incompetence even she despises.

Make myself useless. Utterly, completely, irreversibly.

Seria gazed at me with her gentle smile.

"Something wrong? Your face is ashen."

"No, just... feeling secure with you as my secretary today! Haha."

Inside, I wept blood.

'Terrifying pink-haired disaster. I'll escape your clutches soon.'

Seria's lips curved faintly.

"Glad you feel secure. I'll stay by your side from now on."