Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Rights and Duties (1)
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The hospital business was going smoothly, and thanks to that, the church's expansion was riding a tailwind of success, day after day.
Amid the surge of new duties, I was caught up in frantically busy days myself.
One day, Yoanna dropped by unexpectedly and delivered surprising news.
"Sis, we've got a request for an audience."
"Huh?"
Of course, there were always people eager to meet the head of the Radiance Church.
That had only intensified since we started the hospital in the city and the church's presence grew more prominent.
'No matter where you go, there are always folks sniffing around for a piece of the action.'
Usually, those opportunists were handled by the frontline priests or Yoanna, who oversaw day-to-day operations.
But every now and then, for matters they considered important, they'd push for a direct meeting like this.
"This one's a little special. I think you should meet them yourself."
I shifted into a serious demeanor to match hers.
"Who is it? Someone from another corporation?"
With our ranks swelling so successfully, drawing attention—or pushback—was only natural from here on out.
As I mentally ran through the names of any factions that might try to sabotage the church's ventures...
The response was something I never saw coming.
"No, it's a politician this time."
"Huh? A politician...?"
Yoanna set the profile folder she'd brought down on the table as she spoke.
"Yes, Donovan Reed. The three-term city councilor from the City Republican Party, representing Epsilon Circle Sector 3. He's here to see the church."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Surprisingly, Omega Detroit's political system still professed to be a democracy.
At first glance, that sounds absurd—like some kind of sick joke.
A society where corporate power carves up the city, and the average person's right to survival isn't guaranteed anywhere.
Where companies exploit consumers and workers alike, causing horrific industrial accidents without facing a shred of accountability.
After witnessing all that firsthand, it's no wonder it feels like a punchline.
But... Omega Detroit really did start out as a textbook representative democracy when it was founded.
Citizens were granted the right to vote for politicians who would represent their interests.
Elections were still happening even now.
So why had the city devolved into this mess?
If citizens could elect their representatives, why were they still groaning under corporate exploitation?
The story goes back ages—to the dawn of modern democracy.
The citizen revolutions in the early modern West.
Kings and nobles who had crossed every line in oppressing the people finally faced backlash from those backed into a corner.
The old rulers lost their thrones and their heads to the guillotine.
The crown then passed to the capitalists of the 20th century.
Learning from history, they replaced straightforward class systems with the sly leash of capital.
But the common folk weren't fools.
They knew a life of grueling labor just to scrape by was slavery with a new label.
So the red wave nearly swept the world once more.
"Workers of the world, unite!"
The powers-that-be barely clung to their seats amid that ideological crisis, but they trembled at the bitter 'red taste.'
They learned another lesson, and by the late 21st century, megacorporations refined the world's power structure even further.
The method? Paradoxically, 'freedom.'
In its early days, Omega Detroit advertised itself as a city of liberty: slashing regulations and taxes to unprecedented lows while keeping the democratic political system intact.
Otherwise, it never would have gotten off the ground—no one signs up voluntarily for slavery.
Low corporate taxes drew in businesses, jobs followed, and people poured in after.
Back then, this autonomous city's citizens wielded sovereignty comparable to any democratic nation.
But what turned it into the beast it is today boiled down to one key difference.
Here, under the guise of personal freedom, they even allowed the 'right to sell your vote.'
"Turn your sleeping rights into cash!"
Like any traditional democracy, every citizen in Omega Detroit got one equal vote.
But you could exercise it yourself—or sell it on an exchange for instant cash.
Omega International, the city's architects, touted this as the pinnacle of economic democracy.
And surprisingly, citizens didn't hate it.
"Hey, it's money, right?"
It was just one more option on the table.
For those too desperate scraping by to vote, or just apathetic about politics, selling votes became a nice side hustle.
Many even saw it like public dividends from the city just for being citizens—welcome bonuses, really.
So the vote-selling law stuck around.
Some struggling citizens gladly sold their rights.
Naturally, those bought votes elected corporate-backed politicians.
Over time, city government and laws slowly bent to their tastes.
By the time citizens realized something was wrong, elections kept rolling—but it was too late.
A tangled electoral college, bicameral cabinet system.
Laws letting companies manage their employees' votes.
Gerrymandering—like equal seats for Alpha Circle's 1% population and Epsilon Circle's over 40%.
Law, power, and capital intertwined so tightly, there was no untangling it.
From then on, whoever you sent to the council ended up bought off, just another corporate lackey.
Citizens started selling even more rights.
The more they saw personal choices couldn't change the world, the deeper the cycle of political apathy sank.
Ironically, those who sold the most votes back then... were the very poor and working class suffering the worst exploitation now.
Maybe we should blame their shortsightedness.
But everyone has felt it: that hollow sense amid millions of votes where your one doesn't matter.
Selling that speck won't tip the scales, but it pays the rent, keeps you off the streets, fills your belly...
Could you really resist that temptation?
As the city grew harsher, the more desperate sold votes even harder.
Like drinking seawater in the throes of dehydration.
What was once a precious vote became cheap in citizens' hands—a market commodity overflowing supply.
Candidates won based solely on how much corporate cash bought those votes.
Thus, the city's unique beast was born: corporate feudalism in democracy's skin.
But the masses couldn't complain. It was their choice, after all.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After Yoanna's long explanation, I asked again, still puzzled.
"Okay, got it... So why's a politician coming to our church...?"
Yoanna explained calmly.
"The elections for sector chiefs are coming up soon."
As mentioned, politicians here get elected on corporate sponsorships, then serve as the city government's yes-men.
Omega Detroit was administratively divided into 5 Circles, 12 Sectors, and 60 electoral districts total.
Each district elected a central councilor in general elections, plus sector chiefs in local ones.
Yoanna continued.
"This is a local election, though... Less important than the general ones."
Most city functions were privatized, leaving sector chiefs with scant administrative power.
It was only natural they'd rank below elections for the legislative and executive heavyweights.
"But they still have non-negligible authority. Sector chiefs theoretically command the ODPD forces assigned to their area."
So a corporate-backed chief could hand over city police as private mercenaries in return.
And Donovan Reed was a frontrunner in Epsilon Circle Sector 3—the area where our cathedral had grown strongest lately.
'Showing up right before the election...'
It probably meant outsiders now saw the church as a force rivaling mid-tier corporations.
After some thought, I asked Yoanna's take.
"What do you think we should do?"
"Hmm."
Yoanna shrugged lightly.
"You could strike a deal for solid gains, or keep him as a connection for later. Either way, more cards in your hand for emergencies is always better."
"..."
I pondered again.
Just like she'd said, all the major city corps had deep ties to city hall.
With the church's power growing, dipping into that game might be inevitable.
After mulling it over, I decided to meet him once.
A few days later, as promised, the politician arrived at the cathedral office.
Donovan Reed was a Western man in his fifties with graying hair.
The moment he sat, he launched into an oddly polite pitch.
"It's an honor to meet you, Saintess. I've long admired the church's noble mission. Please, grant me the privilege to become a brother under God's teachings as well?"
"...?"