Chapter 37
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Mayor and Citizen Complaints
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Lazy afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the mayor's office.
A time when even the dust floating in the air shimmered golden. A peace that made it feel as if the whole world had paused for a moment.
Such tranquility numbs the human instinct for struggle. It loosens your tension and lulls you into complacency with reality.
"Ahhhhmmmmm—"
Leaning back in my chair, I let out a meaningless yawn.
A bizarre sound, like one a murloc from the deep sea might make.
Ahhhmm.
Even trying it again, it sounded pretty convincing. Maybe in a past life before my past life, I was a murloc slinking along the shores of Azeroth.
Anyway, whether this murloc or that murloc. What matters is this moment's peace.
Yeah, my resolve is weakening.
I just want to sip the sweet black tea Seria brings me and gaze contentedly at the massive taxes the Hearts Party is raking in from outside the window.
Life as mayor isn't so bad. I want to fool myself into thinking this is a successful existence.
...No good.
Absolutely not.
Lee Garam. Get a grip.
Are you planning to flail around like a fly trapped in honey until you drown?
You must not get intoxicated by the sweet poison of success and forget your noble goal.
Your goal is singular.
An honorable impeachment through failure, and a great escape toward freedom.
Especially now, I need to stay sharp.
Rest is a luxury for the defeated, and comfort is the prelude to downfall.
My goal is defeat and downfall itself, so paradoxically, I must fail more diligently than anyone and crumble with utmost sincerity.
As the alchemist of failure, the sommelier of impeachment, I shall craft another magnificent flop.
Alright, let's start today's impeachment planning meeting.
I swiveled my chair to face the desk. Before me lay a clean sheet of paper—the stage for my next failure.
First, a review of past plans.
Hero Association audit, SNS trash-talk parade, Hearts Party bakery project.
All grandiose. All ambitious. And they all failed spectacularly. No, succeeded. Damn it.
Why did they fail? Pondering deeply, I got it.
I aimed too big all at once. Like trying to burst my belly on the first bite.
I rushed straight for the ultimate goal of impeachment. Too hasty. Too arrogant.
Messing with Koreans' rice bowls? Shaking the massive Hero Association?
That's final boss territory, not for a mid-boss like me—no, a slime from the starting village.
The scale was too grand. Like a kid tumbling down stairs by jumping three steps at a time.
Even failure has stages. Step by step. One at a time.
So the concept for this operation is clear.
'Small and certain failure.'
No grand justifications or philosophical agonies needed.
Tiny, everyday inconveniences woven into citizens' lives.
Stir those up to accumulate small but solid resentment.
The proverb 'many a little makes a mickle' applies to failure too, not just success.
"Seria."
"You called, Mayor?"
The pink-haired secretary occupying the office sofa today as well.
That sofa is my holy site. And it's under attack. Feels like Jerusalem's been seized.
The Crusaders at least had hope of reclaiming it. But me? What can I do to take back my sofa?
Ah. Nothing. Surrender is all.
Reclaim the holy site?
Dream on. Accept reality. That's Seria's sofa now.
Not a temporary conquest. Permanent occupation. My premium Italian leather sofa has become a colony.
"From now on, I've decided to pursue humble, small-scale politics for the common folk."
Seria's turquoise eyes flicked over me subtly. Without a moment's hesitation, she replied.
"You've finally found a policy direction befitting the size of your vessel, Mayor. Congratulations. A plan perfectly suited to the ambitions of a soy sauce dish mayor."
"W-what? Soy sauce dish?"
Is there any secretary in the world who compares a person's ambitions to a soy sauce dish!
My vast, majestic, sometimes even violent potential, reduced to a soy sauce dish.
There's a serious flaw in saying my ambitions are as small as a soy sauce dish.
I'm not small. Not at all. Quite the opposite. I'd show it if I could. Though it'd earn an R-rating.
"All the world's flavors begin and end with soy sauce by nature! Fresh sashimi? Soy sauce! Rainy day green onion pancakes sizzling away? Soy sauce! Even a fried egg gets perfected with a drop of soy sauce! Dismissing the soy sauce dish is tantamount to denying the alpha and omega of taste!"
My face flushed red with excitement. Sophistry even I couldn't follow.
"Anyway. Could I hear what this grand, noble plan actually is?"
"From now on, I'll listen to the small voices of the citizens. I'll become a mayor who solves problems close to their daily lives."
"Any specific measures in mind?"
"Of course."
I strode confidently to the mayor's desk and booted up the PC.
Then I logged into the Neo Incheon City Hall homepage's 'Citizens' Voices' board.
"All the answers are here. The raw voices of the people! The furnace of public sentiment!"
A cauldron bubbling with citizens' raw complaints and grievances. A treasure trove of failure ideas.
Scrolling down, all sorts of petty gripes popped up like popcorn.
[Title: Please stop people smoking on the streets!]
[Content: Mayor, it's torture walking with my kids when smokers are ahead of us. The smell is bad enough, but the cigarette butts tossed everywhere ruin the view and pose a fire hazard... (rest omitted)]
Smoking issue. Humanity's eternal dilemma, walking hand-in-hand with history. A precarious tightrope between health and pleasure.
"Hmm. Simple. Raise cigarette prices to 50,000 won a pack. Problem solved. This is pioneering a blue ocean with creative economics. Redefine cigarettes not as a commoner's vice, but a luxury for the rich. An untouchable symbol of nobility. Create a new class of cigarette aficionados, like wine lovers or cigar enthusiasts."
"The result? Every smoker in Neo Incheon storms city hall and grinds 50,000-won cigarettes into your face. Should be quite the spectacle. Shall I prepare an ashtray?"
Seria, flipping through a magazine on the sofa, said without even turning her head.
"Besides, you don't have authority over cigarette prices, Mayor. Even if you did, that wouldn't be policy—it'd be a declaration of riots."
Wait, no authority?
Neo Incheon is on another level from ordinary cities. A metropolis overrun by superheroes and supervillains.
In this city run by the triangle of city hall, Hero Association, and top corporations, the mayor's powers surpass even Seoul's mayor.
Even if Neo Incheon is a special autonomous city bordering on a city-state, it can't ignore core national tax laws.
Damn. Lacked details.
Impose an extra 'Neo Incheon Special Health Tax' maybe...
That'd really spark riots. Very, very violent ones against Lee Garam.
Next.
[Title: Do something about the upstairs brat's stomping!!!]
[Content: Stomping all day! Kids run around, sure! But this is excessive! Running around till 2 AM, can't sleep! Intercom? No answer! If I meet them, I'll twist their ankle myself!!]
Noise between floors. A cancer of modern society destroying neighborly bonds and sparking violence.
"Simple fix. Enact the 'Interfloor Noise Prevention Special Act.' Issue an administrative order to forcibly attach city-developed special noise-prevention pads to the ankles of all kids causing noise above a certain decibel level."
"I get to watch you get indicted for child abuse in real time. The first mayor targeted by global child rights groups. An achievement for the history books."
"Or the opposite! Subsidize high-powered woofers for downstairs residents? Blast heavy metal every time the upstairs runs! Eye for an eye! Tooth for a tooth! Noise for noise! Fair deal exchange! A peace strategy based on mutual assured destruction!"
Seria slammed her magazine shut. Her cold turquoise eyes turned to me.
"You've finally abandoned civilized society for jungle law in governance. Next up, survival of the fittest? Hand out weapons to citizens on the city budget?"
"No, that's..."
Damn. Why do my genius ideas turn into psychopath delusions after passing through that woman's mouth?
This woman doesn't let up even once.
I pouted and moved to the next complaint.
Parking issues, illegal banners, park pigeons...
[Title: Trash sorting is too hard. Can't we all just toss it together?]
Ah, finally an interesting topic.
Trash separation.
I pondered for a moment.
Why do we separate trash?
Plastic, vinyl, cans, paper. They all end up incinerated or landfilled anyway.
Why divide and classify things fated to vanish together by human standards?
"Seria! See this citizen's insight! Why discriminate against trash? Plastic, vinyl, cans, paper... Why divide trash by origin? Isn't this discrimination?"
"You're just lazy about sorting, right?"
"No! This is philosophy! Trash sorting is the caste system of the trash world. Plastic gets noble treatment because it's recyclable, while food waste is untouchable. All trash is equal in its essence as refuse. I respect the rights of trash—no, 'waste rights'."
"...Mayor. Have I been overloading you lately? You should see a doctor. Delusions from overwork are getting severe."
"Delusions? 'Abolish separation entirely! All trash in one bag!' How equal and beautiful! No more agonizing over sorting dates or recyclability! Stuff everything in one black bag—the era of equality! True welfare!"
"You've finally found your identity in trash, Mayor. Congratulations."
What a revolutionary slogan.
Perfect policy to draw flak from environmental groups.
But too radical. Doesn't fit this 'small and certain failure' concept. Save for later.
Kept scrolling. Then, a word caught my eye.
'Cats.'
[Title: Going insane from stray cats in the villa neighborhood. Do something about the cat ladies.]
[Content: Someone feeds cats in the villa flower beds every day, so the neighborhood's overrun. Cats yowl like crying babies all night, can't sleep. They rip open trash bags too. Even climb on my parked car hood, scratching with claws, and on cold days crawl into the engine room. Please do something!!]
Found it.
This is it.
Interfloor noise (cat cries) + illegal dumping (cats tearing bags) + parking issues (cats scratching cars).
Three prior complaints fused into one 'cat' keyword.
A villa neighborhood disaster where multiple social issues intertwine!
Plus it involves 'cat ladies'—a special breed.
On the surface, warm-hearted citizens loving life. But at core, sources of neighborhood nuisance.
What a contradictory existence.
The moment I intervene rashly, both sides attack me.
Side with residents?
Animal rights groups and cat ladies call me a 'cold-blooded life-hater'.
Side with cat ladies?
Suffering residents brand me 'Cat Lady Mayor ignoring citizens for cats!'
No matter the side, I eat shit. Perfect setup.
The premonition of failure awakens every cell in my body.
Perfect. No better stage for failure.
"Seria."
I spun my chair to face her.
"I've found it. Neo Incheon's deepest, darkest wound."
"Solved all the city's problems in a mere five minutes? Shall I book your Nobel Peace Prize? So, what's this great solution?"
I flashed a triumphant smile and declared.
"From now on, all stray cats in Neo Incheon will be managed in the city's name. Launching the 'Nekonomics' project!"