SAN JUAN — One day after protesters here forced their governor, Ricky Rosselló, to quit, they were back at La Fortaleza, the governor’s mansion, to celebrate. But their joy is already turning back to anger, and a resolve to demand honest government. For many on this island, the political crisis is far from over.

The drama began when Puerto Rico’s Center for Investigative Journalism published 900 pages of profanity-laced, homophobic and misogynistic messages between Rosselló and his top aides. They hated on other politicians and the media and even mocked those who died or suffered amid Hurricane Maria in 2017. Allegations of corruption also enflamed passions. On Thursday, the Federal Emergency Management Agency said it would further restrict Puerto Rico’s access to federal relief funds amid probes of alleged irregularities related to Maria money.

On Thursday, after news of Rosselló’s resignation, a couple hundred Puerto Ricans had gathered outside La Fortaleza, most waving Puerto Rican flags. Many wore newly outdated “#RickyRenuncio” (“Ricky, Resign”) T-shirts.

They drank beer in open containers and carried children on their shoulders. They sang loudly and passionately Rafael Hernández Marín’s “Preciosa,” a national ode to Puerto Rico’s beauty. The song is “about liberty, too,” a man tells me before slipping back into the crowd.

But the street signs reveal the lingering discontent. Someone taped over the sign “Calle del Cristo,” which looks directly onto La Fortaleza, redubbing it “Calle del Corrupto” — “Corruption Street.” People had amassed there with signs saying, “Wanda, you also have to go.” As in Wanda Vázquez.

Vázquez has been the island’s secretary of justice — the equivalent of a state attorney general — since 2017, and she’s poised to succeed Rosselló. In Puerto Rico’s constitution, the governorship would normally go next to the secretary of state, but that position is currently empty, as Luis Rivera Marin also resigned after his own lewd remarks became public.

Puerto Ricans fear that if Vázquez becomes governor, they’ll be trading one corrupt leader for another. Like Rosselló, Vázquez is a member of the New Progressive Party, and she’s also his political appointee. Moreover, she, too, faces allegations of corruption. Puerto Rico’s Office of Government Ethics said it’s probing her for possible ethical violations.

And she has already faced criminal charges, after a complaint was filed against her — though a judge deemed the evidence insufficient, and Rosselló reinstated her.

Vázquez’s critics also accuse her of refusing to open corruption probes of members of her own party.

Fact is, corruption has plagued Puerto Rico for years. Rosselló’s father, Pedro, who served as governor from 1993-2001, had his own share of scandal: Thirty-three members of his administration were charged in kickback schemes.

Yet Rosselló’s scorn for his constituents was the last straw. It was the chief catalyst for change, former Gov. Luis Fortuño tells me.

“People feel there’s too much cronyism, even if people are not indicted, too many government contracts, no government procedures,” says Fortuño. “What really broke the camel’s back here was feeling like they were being taken for a ride . . . They’re not only disgusted, but they feel they had been lied to.”

Puerto Ricans are now demanding a cleaner, more functional, more accountable government. Making its rounds on social media is a new slogan: “Generación del yo no me dejo” — “Generation of ‘I’m not going to let you do this to me.’ ”

The 900 pages “opened our eyes,” says 32-year-old Katarina Cruz, a store worker. “We couldn’t let it pass . . . can’t accept them laughing at our dead.”

Pretty much everyone I interviewed vows they won’t stop until they’ve ousted every politician they deem corrupt. “We are still in pampers,” Carla Miro, a 36-year-old veterinary technician, says. “This [speaking out and protesting] is new for us. But . . . we have to keep going, we have to show [the politicians] that ‘We don’t work for you, you work for us.’”

Puerto Rico’s current political movement began in opposition to Rosselló and others like him. But those I spoke to can’t name a single politician they’d be willing to put in La Fortaleza. They won’t be happy until the house is swept clean.

Meanwhile, Calle del Corrupto remains full of protesters.

Elisha Maldonado is a member of The Post’s editorial board and a senior fellow for the Independent Women’s Forum.