Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Mayor and the Company Dinner
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Chiik-!
The sweet sizzle from the pork belly on the grill.
Sizzle.
The meat is cooking.
Sizzle sizzle.
The fat is boiling.
Sizzle sizzle sizzle.
I'm burning up inside too.
To think there was a hidden gem like this near City Hall.
Probably thanks to the civil servants who should be serving the public but spend work hours hunting for good eats instead. Shameless.
The scene before me was pandemonium under the guise of a group dinner. The City Hall Audit Office staff had set this up to celebrate my "great feat."
Great feat.
A monumental achievement.
"I've misunderstood you all this time, Mayor! Here's to you!"
"It's an honor to serve someone like you, Mayor! Let me offer you a drink!"
"Grr, as expected of the Mayor! That unyielding stance against injustice was truly inspiring!"
Don't be proud. Don't look at me like that. And put that glass away.
I'd merely placed my neck on the guillotine, yet somehow it's still firmly attached to my shoulders, and people are toasting me like I'm some hero.
I can't comprehend it. Nor do I want to.
"Mayor, it's perfectly done. Have a piece."
Seria, who had claimed the grill beside me, placed a flawlessly cooked piece of pork belly on my small plate.
She treated grilling meat like a full-blown project.
She divided the grill into sections: pork belly on one side, garlic and mushrooms on another, and the remaining space for fresh kimchi and water parsley.
She calculated the optimal temperature for each ingredient and flipped them at the ideal moment.
Crispy on the outside, juicy within.
This wasn't cooking; it was alchemy. Turning pork into gold.
The perfect, flawless secretary grilled pork belly perfectly and flawlessly too.
This woman excels at cooking too? What can't she do?
Everything except world conquest, it seems. Wait—no, she can do that too.
Does the word "impossible" even exist in her dictionary?
"Seria. You grill meat really well."
"It's basic competency for assisting the Mayor. A monkey trainer can't rely on the whip alone. Sometimes, you need to know how to offer a tasty banana."
I just became a monkey. But no one bats an eye. They just see it as cheerful banter between the Mayor and his secretary.
Seria placed a perfectly cooked piece of pork belly on a lettuce leaf, added green onion relish, ssamjang, and a roasted garlic clove, then brought it to my lips.
"Here, say ahh. It's a banana."
Damn it. I couldn't refuse.
Fine. I'm a monkey.
Ah.
I unconsciously opened my mouth.
The wrap she made slid into my mouth.
Munch munch.
Delicious. So good it was annoying.
As I floundered between defeat, self-loathing, and ecstatic flavors, one of the young Audit Enforcers from the Special Audit Team shot to his feet and raised his glass high.
"Everyone, listen up! I'll offer a toast to our esteemed Mayor!"
It was coming. The unavoidable rite of passage. I bowed my head and quietly chewed my meat.
"The Mayor once said something that struck deep into my heart: 'If you don't prune the rotten branches, the whole tree will rot away. I'm prepared to shed blood for it!'"
Who said that?
I didn't. I've never said that.
I'm not bad with memory. Especially my own words and actions—I remember them all.
So I can weasel out if accountability comes knocking later.
"Now, I'll say 'Justice is,' and everyone shout 'Alive!' together!"
He bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"Justice is!"
"Alive!"
Clink-!
A thunderous cheer erupted as glasses clashed.
The staff were already starry-eyed from the fabrication and agitation, their gazes a mix of reverence and like devout believers.
My face burned with shame.
I just wanted to vanish from this spot.
"N-no, it's all a misunderstanding. I'm not that great..."
"Mayor, always so humble."
I'm not deflecting praise. I'm shifting blame.
I just rubber-stamped it—you all did the real work, so take the credit and the fallout too. It's perfectly reasonable and selfish!
This won't do.
I have to break this chain of misconceptions.
I shot to my feet and pointed at Kang Hyunwoo, the on-site lead for the audit.
"No, really! Kang did everything this time! I did nothing, I swear! All the credit goes to Enforcer Kang Hyunwoo!"
"Without your decision, Mayor, we couldn't have even started."
"I said no! I just added a spoon to the pot! Kang handled all the fieldwork, right?"
I waved my hands desperately. Please believe me. I'm just an incompetent mayor.
"Ooh... As expected of the Mayor... Giving credit to his subordinate. The mark of a true leader."
"Mayor! For you, our Audit Team would dive into fire!"
"We'll follow you forever, Mayor!"
They all gazed at me with warm smiles. Even the stoic Kang Hyunwoo nodded respectfully.
Kraaaah!
No! Don't! Do nothing for me! Just ignore and neglect me, please!
My inner scream didn't leak out, of course. I just awkwardly smiled and tilted my glass.
The liquor went down. Gulp gulp.
Now, only way out was to drown my brain in alcohol and forget this nightmare.
How much time had passed?
The raucous dinner had ended, and I staggered down the night street. The cool night air soothed my alcohol-flushed cheeks.
"Mayor, you look a mess."
Seria pressed close, supporting my arm. A faint shampoo scent brushed my nose. Was it the buzz? It felt more intoxicating than usual.
"Mayor, I'll escort you home."
"Thanks to you, you devilish secretary."
"What did I do? I merely silently watched your evolution from monkey to man."
"Can you drop the monkey talk already?"
"How about chimpanzee? It stays within the primate family, preserving your identity while allowing slight evolution."
"Forget it. Monkey's fine."
The alcohol haze made her face stand out more than usual—something I'd normally brush off.
Her long pinkish hair shimmered softly under the streetlights. Her expressionless face hid emotions I suddenly itched to uncover.
She's damn pretty.
If only her personality were different.
Why is a woman like this stuck as my secretary?
No, a more fundamental question.
Why does Seria want to conquer the world? Does she have grievances? Or just bored?
In the original story, Seria was plotting something massive, with Lee Garam as a piece in it.
But the specifics, the endgame—none were clear.
One thing for sure: her goal wasn't petty power or money.
This flawless woman, who seemed to have it all, why bother with such hassle?
"Mayor."
She looked at me with a faint smile.
A chill raced up my spine.
Her eyes.
Not her usual contempt or mockery.
Like a scientist eyeing a rare lab specimen—piercing, cold, all-seeing.
She stopped walking.
"You've been so intriguing lately."
"......"
"Like a completely different person."
The alcohol cleared in an instant.
Warning alarms blared in my head.
Danger.
That meaningful smile on her lips.
More terrifying than any threat since arriving in this world.
Feeling my blood run cold, I barely opened my mouth.
"What are you talking about? You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk at all. Your face is the red one."
"Drunks always say that. Want some ice cream? To sober up."
"No need."
"Nah, I'll get you some. There's a convenience store! Come on!"
I bolted toward it without waiting for her reply.
I felt her gaze on my back.
Like it pierced right through me.
Damn it.
My head feels like it's splitting.
No, it already has.
My skull is a ruined fortress, devastated by last night's alcohol onslaught.
Last night's memories.
The rowdy meat joint. The staff's over-the-top praise. The fabricated toast. And Seria's cold eyes watching it all.
Final recollection: convenience store fluorescents and the cold sweetness of chocolate ice cream.
Don't remember how I woke up after.
I barely made it to work and sank deep into the world's comfiest chair.
Throb.
Throb.
Throb.
A woodpecker must be building a nest in my brain.
Correction: not one.
Hundreds—no, thousands.
A thousand birds. Sencho.
Like some ninja manga assassination technique, a thousand woodpeckers are drilling my skull in perfect sync.
"Urk."
The world spins.
The morning sun pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows is no blessing—it's a curse, a barrage on my wrecked nerves.
Thud.
Something landed on my desk.
A small glass vial.
Green and brown swirled grotesquely inside. Just looking made my liver feel healthier.
I looked up. Our eyes met.
"Hangover remedy. I made it myself."
Said Seria.
In her usual dry tone.
"You seemed to enjoy yourself last night. Ended up sprawled like discarded rags on the street. Without me, the cleaning lady would've classified you as general waste and sent you to the incinerator."
"...Thanks."
I squeezed out the words.
"Not seeking praise. Drink it. Instant relief for hangovers. Won't restore your brain cells, though."
I silently picked up the vial.
Uncorked it, and a horrific stench assaulted my nose. Like rotten grass, dirt, and herbal medicine blended in a mixer.
I hesitated.
Brain woodpeckers vs. this poison.
Which is worse?
Eyes squeezed shut, I chugged the green sludge in one go.
"Gahk!"
Unpleasant burn down my throat. Taste beyond imagination.
Like licking the bottom of hell's cauldron.
Yet miraculously, seconds later, the vise around my head eased.
Seria's concoctions worked, poison or potion. Alchemy, after all.
"Now you look somewhat human."
Her gaze weighed on me.
I fake-coughed and shuffled papers.
Silence.
Only the air purifier hummed.
She broke it.
"Mayor."
"What."
"You've changed a lot lately."
I feigned nonchalance.
"How."
"Everything."
She propped her chin, staring intently.
It was here.
The inevitable.
Cold sweat trickled down my spine.
Not the hangover. Pure terror.
"Anything special happen? Hit your head? Read an inspiring book?"
Her voice calm, but the edge unmistakable.
This was an interrogation.
I racked my brain desperately.
Perfect excuse. Ironclad alibi. One line to dispel her doubts.
"N-no."
Just lame denial.
"I've always been like this."
Lie.
"Just... matured a bit."
Worst excuse ever.
A smile crept across Seria's lips.
Chillier than any I knew.
I wrung my remaining brain cells.
Woodpeckers gone, but now Seria—a bigger disaster—crushed my frontal lobe.
"Men usually mature around thirty, right?"
Universal truth. Undeniable.
"Bade farewell to my immature past. Now reborn as mature Lee Garam 2.0."
Say it and see.
"You're still twenty-nine by international age."
"N-no! Th-that's international age!"
My voice goat-bleated.
"Korean age! I'm over thirty in Korean years! Undeniably! Anyway, over!"
I insisted desperately.
Seria eyed me.
Then, very faintly—barely perceptibly—her lip twitched up.
"I see. Maturity."
She rolled the word on her tongue slowly.
"To mature this much in a month... Remarkable. Like a caterpillar turning butterfly without the cocoon."
"......"
"The old you couldn't read a single document properly. Dumped all approvals on me. Sole interest: legally siphoning city funds."
She listed facts calmly.
"Now you uncover Association corruption, rally staff, humbly credit subordinates. Not maturity—world-shattering change."
Crisis. Clear crisis.
Her suspicion neared certainty.
My cover blown soon.
The moment she deems me an uncontrollable variable, my end isn't a sunny south isle—it's Incheon's cold sea in a drum.
I swallowed dryly, desperately changing topics.
"Th-that's... all thanks to you. Great secretary makes me great too. Haha."
Awkward laugh echoed in the office.
Seria didn't smile.