[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 189DiiScôver new stories on no/v/e()/lbin(.)c/o/m
──────
Patriot II
3
That morning.
The members of the National Road Administration Headquarters (nicknamed: Babel Tower, Demon King's Castle) felt a strange emptiness as they went to work.
"Why is this? For some reason, I don't feel annoyed on my way to work today."
"Congratulations. You've finally lost it."
"Was the square in front of our workplace always this clean?"
"It's truly a beautiful day. The birds are chirping, and the flowers are blooming. On a day like this, we adults should be resting at home..."
Just as they were beginning to doubt whether they had lost their minds due to overwork, someone pointed to the square and shouted.
"Oh! It's gone!"
"Gone? What's gone?"
"The crazy guy! Jo Youngsoo isn't here!"
"What?"
That's right.
Rain or shine, whether he caught a cold or was infected by a strange virus, Jo Youngsoo, who always held a sign shouting "Noh Doha must resign!" every day, had vanished.
The members of the Road Administration were impressed. The square in front of Babel Tower revealed its original elegance with just one person gone.
"Wow, it's so nice without that guy..."
"Even when we came out to eat sandwiches during lunch, he would always approach us and shout at the top of his lungs."
For the first time since joining the Administration, the members experienced a quiet commute to work.
Of course, the happiness didn't last long. After all, happiness is like ice cream in the summer; you can't savor it for long.
Exactly fifteen days later.
"Please look at this!"
"Huh?"
Thud!
Jo Youngsoo returned to the Road Administration Headquarters with a triumphant expression. He placed a large bundle of documents on the reception desk.
"Uh..."
The receptionist was flustered.
The National Road Administration was not a government organization that served the public like a superior. Naturally, there was no complaints desk for ordinary citizens.
(There was a reception desk for patients to request assistive devices from Noh Doha, the Head of the Administration, though.)
"Uh, Mr. Jo Youngsoo? What is this...?"
"It's a public opinion poll on whether Head Administrator Noh Doha is fit to be the ruler of South Korea!"
Jo Youngsoo's voice echoed like a lion's roar. The attention of the members of the Road Administration, who were enjoying their lunch break in the lobby, was immediately drawn.
"A public opinion poll?"
"Yes! Take a look for yourself!"
The first page of the survey, made up of 400 sheets of paper, was titled as follows:
[Republic of Korea 1st Public Opinion Survey]
[Question: Do you believe that Head Administrator Noh Doha was elected through proper democratic procedures as the de facto ruler of South Korea?]
[Very legitimate - 12.3%]
[Somewhat legitimate - 15.1%]
[Somewhat illegitimate - 5.5%]
[Very illegitimate - 1.6%]
[Doesn't matter - 59.7%]
[No response - 5.8%]
The handwriting was dense and written in pencil. It was obvious that it had been written by hand. The paper was tattered, probably due to repeated corrections.
"Uh..."
The receptionist blinked.
"Uh, what is this exactly...?"
"It's a survey conducted by directly gathering opinions from hundreds of Busan citizens!"
Jo Youngsoo's clear eyes sparkled.
By the way, though it might seem irrelevant, Jo Youngsoo's head was also shining as brightly as his eyes at that moment.
Just saying.
"As you can see, positive responses account for 27.4%, while negative responses amount to a whopping 7.1%!"
"Uh, well. If we assume this survey was conducted properly, doesn't that mean the support rate is actually quite high...?"
"Currently, South Korea is practically under the dictatorship of Head Administrator Noh Doha! In such a situation, over 7% of the population have risked their lives to express their opinions! This is a number that must not be underestimated!"
"No, dictatorship...?"
As a former South Korean civil servant, he would place a trash can on his lap and carefully drop the clippings into it whenever he clipped his nails.
“You’re that kind of person...”
“...?”
I wondered what he meant by that.
Anyway, both the saintess and Noh Doha were surprisingly tolerant of Jo Youngsoo’s antics.
The other awakened ones were not much different.
Everyone despised Jo Youngsoo, yet no one actually made him ‘disappear.’ They could have done so anytime they wanted.
He had no family, no relatives, no guild to belong to, living in a shantytown in Busan, relying on free meals from the national highway management team and the Guild of the Three Worlds, while constantly criticizing the ‘dictatorship’ of both organizations.
He spent all day collecting scrap paper.
Because he needed paper to create his ‘public opinion surveys.’
And even then, resources were scarce, so Jo Youngsoo had to write each survey question by hand with a pencil.
[Republic of Korea 4th Public Opinion Survey]
[Question: A puppet state known as the Eastern Holy Kingdom has been established in Pyongyang, South Korea, and the national highway management team has not issued any official statements regarding them. Do you think the Eastern Holy Kingdom should be recognized as a legitimate state?]
[Republic of Korea 11th Public Opinion Survey]
[Question: This year, as a measure to address the damage caused by typhoons and monsoons, citizens in the southern coastal islands of South Korea were forcibly relocated. Do you think the national highway management team has the right to infringe on the freedom of residence and movement during a national crisis?]
[Republic of Korea 20th Public Opinion Survey]
[Question: Do you think the guild leaders’ authority can be established without democratic consensus or debate? If so, do you believe that guild leaders have any obligations towards the citizens?]
I really wish I could show you these questionnaires. In a way, they are truly amusing.
On the scrap paper, you could see where Jo Youngsoo had repeatedly scratched out lines with his pencil. Like this.
Sometimes, he would cover the text with correction fluid he somehow obtained and rewrite it. Like this □□□.
Other times, he tried to erase the letters with an eraser, but the poor quality of the eraser and the paper didn’t match, so the paper tore with a “rrrip.” Then he would write the letters next to the torn hole. Like this ■■■.
So, if I were to recreate Jo Youngsoo’s survey forms as accurately as possible:
[Republic of Korea 19th and 20th Public Opinion Surveys]
[Question: Due to the increasing disparity in infrastructure between cities, power is concentrating in the hands of ■■ a few guild leaders. Do you think the authority of guild leaders can be established without democratic consensus or debate? If ■■■■■ so, do you believe that guild leaders have some obligations towards the citizens?]
A tattered rag.
And he used the same survey form multiple times for the surveys, marking respondents’ answers with small tally marks next to them. Like this:
[Authority is established] 11111 11111 11111 11111 11111 11111 111
Jo Youngsoo would return to his shantytown, count the tallies one by one, calculate the statistics, and finally write the percentage on the ‘final version.’ Like this:
[Authority is established – 66.3%]
And with these ‘statistical data’ and ‘public opinions,’ Jo Youngsoo submitted them to the national highway management team.
Sometimes after just two weeks. Sometimes after over 100 days of surveying.
How many years passed?
A strange thing happened.
“Dictator Noh Doha, step down! Step down! Step down!”
The scene at Babel Tower Square had slightly changed.
Jo Youngsoo’s appearance, holding a protest placard and wearing a holy relic with the South Korean constitution written on it like armor while shouting for Noh Doha’s resignation, remained the same.
The national highway management team members who sighed deeply while commuting to and from work were also the same.
But now, at Jo Youngsoo’s feet, there was a cardboard box.
“Mister, here’s some paper.”
“Dictator Noh Doha, step down!”
“Good luck.”
The national highway management team members now dropped ‘used paper’ into the cardboard box whenever they left work.
One sheet. Another sheet. And another.
Just like how people leave money for a poor street guitarist.
“Hey, doesn’t it sometimes creep you out how Team Leader Yoo Jiwon can keep the same expression 24/7?”
“Dictator Noh Doha, step down! Step down!”
“Well, that’s why she’s the operations team leader. I heard even when they’re purging problem members in the operations team, her expression doesn’t change.”
“Dictator Noh Doha, step down! Step down!”
“No matter how good the pay and benefits are, I could never join the operations team...”
“Dictator Noh Doha, step down! Step down!”
“How about we have army stew for dinner tonight?”
“Oh, army stew sounds good. I’m in.”
The national highway management team members, now completely accustomed to Jo Youngsoo, casually chatted among themselves as they walked across the square.
By the time Yoo Jiwon, the last to leave, finished work and the sun had set, Jo Youngsoo was still shouting for Noh Doha’s resignation. Of course, Yoo Jiwon didn’t even glance at him as she left.
“Cough, cough. Oh, my back...”
As night fell and Jo Youngsoo returned to his shantytown.
The stack of scrap paper in his hands was thick.
The volume of that paper was the size of the current ‘Republic of Korea’ territory.
[Translator - Jjescus]
[Proofreader - Gun]