Congratulations, Debut (1)
The meeting, which I thought would end quickly, dragged on longer than expected. It was because my adjutants couldn't quite grasp the concept of the gifted education program I was proposing.
"Uh... so, we're providing funding and opportunities, but there's no mandatory service? We aren't signing a contract?"
"If they just leave the North after we train them, the losses will be massive."
"Other territories usually sign twenty-year labor contracts when they sponsor talent. If you're worried about tying them down for too long, I think offering a groundbreaking ten-year term would suffice."
"I’ve told you already, the gifted education program isn't about expecting a return on investment."
It was a difference in values regarding education. As a civil servant to the core, I viewed gifted education as a way to expand the base of local talent, while my adjutants were deeply ingrained with the belief that education was, first and foremost, an investment.
While we were already conducting literacy and basic arithmetic training, the fact remained that to my adjutants, any educational outreach without a mandatory repayment clause was nothing more than a superficial gesture.
"The gifted education you're talking about, Administrator, will require an immense amount of care and funding for every single individual."
"I suppose so."
"Investing that much capital without a labor-repayment contract is simply irrational."
My adjutants, who usually deferred to my judgment, continued to cast dissenting votes. In truth, I could have pushed it through regardless of whether they understood or not. If I insisted, they would have followed their superior’s orders, pretending to be defeated.
'But I don't want to do that.'
It’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud, but in my heart, these three adjutants had already become more than just coworkers sharing an office. They were incomparable to my colleagues from my past life. While I still didn't have the urge to know every detail of their private lives, I felt that, at the very least, they were the friends I worked best with. And so, for this matter, I wanted their understanding, not their blind obedience.
"People we call 'gifted' or 'geniuses' are different from ordinary folks."
I spoke slowly, and the adjutants focused on my words as if they had been waiting for them.
"If you lock them up, there's a high chance that either their genius will die, or their spirit will."
Isn't that what history has proven time and again? How geniuses who lost their freedom withered away? It’s no coincidence that masterpieces, great songs, and iconic paintings often poured out when the creators were dirt-poor, miserable, and had nothing to their names.
'Looking at it this way, they really are like ocean sunfish.'
But what can you do? I have to raise those sunfish well if this North, filled only with snow, mountains, and beasts, is ever going to see any development.
"That may be true, but..."
Fortunately, it seemed the geniuses in this world shared the same fragile nature as those on Earth; the adjutants scratched their heads. In their minds, they were likely cycling through the names of countless figures who had been shackled by the lords who sponsored them, only to meet tragic ends.
"Let's not worry too much about the investment capital."
Seeing them waver, I drove the point home.
"We aren't going to be investing our own money, anyway."
"...Excuse me?"
Kalisa, who managed the territory's finances, looked at me, demanding an explanation. It was clearly a project that would require significant funds. While our accounting had finally started to resemble that of a proper territory thanks to various projects, the North still lacked more than it possessed. There was no room for money to pile up, and Kalisa found the 'gifted education investment,' which seemed impossible to recoup, quite burdensome. She was likely wondering where on earth I intended to scrape up the funds.
But to hear that we wouldn't be using 'our' money? What was this supposed to mean?
"The Northern Development Fund. Hasn't that collected quite a bit?"
"...Pardon?"
I shrugged.
"It seems people have been donating quite a lot from here and there."
At first, the fund was created to legally pocket the money offered by a fur merchant who had tried to bribe me openly. But recently, merchants who wanted to work with the North, or high-ranking officials from the Lontes territory—who were tied to the North as a community of interest through various contracts—had begun offering money voluntarily.
"Doesn't take them? Don't make me laugh. It's all a show."
"A show?"
"Yeah, he's got that weird thing there. The 'Development Fund' or whatever it's called."
"Ah!"
"It's better to just pay up voluntarily. Even Lord Jefferson paid into that fund before he secured the logging rights for the North."
They say you only see what you want to see. Jefferson, the adjutant from Lontes who visited the North for timber rights, had left behind a significant sum under the guise of the development fund. And thus, the rumor spread. In a world where it’s only natural to show 'sincerity' to the higher-ups of a territory if you want to do business, the local merchants and influential figures thought, 'Well, of course. Who in the world doesn't like money?' and dutifully filled my pockets without me even asking.
"But the Northern Development Fund is the Administrator's personal capital..."
The problem was that even my adjutants seemed to believe that.
"......"
I felt a bit aggrieved, wondering how they could think that after watching me all this time. If I had actually used that money to live in luxury, I wouldn't feel so wronged.
"Oh, come on. Is our Administrator really that kind of person?"
Jamie, perhaps out of the loyalty born from our long time together, stepped up to defend me.
"Our Administrator, you see, only rotates between two sets of clothes every season. Does he drink? Does he gamble? All he ever does is eat sandwiches and work himself to the bone, right? Does our Administrator have any hobbies? Any friends? And you think he’d just... spend that money recklessly? That makes no sense."
"......"
But hearing that, I felt even worse.
'I mean, it's true I don't have friends or hobbies...'
It’s true that my closet is devoid of clothes, shoes, or accessories. But did they have to paint me as such a pathetic human being?
"You guys, do you know why our Administrator comes to the office and works even on weekends?"
"That's because he finds the joy of life in his work—."
"Tsk tsk. Roland, that’s why you still don't know our Administrator."
"You mean you do?"
Jamie puffed out his chest and said confidently.
"Our Administrator is just a guy who has absolutely nothing else to do on weekends!"
"What is this..."
My adjutants were now confidently spreading the theory that I was a social outcast, with me having become nothing more than background noise. In the end,
"But is it by choice, or by force?"
"...Fifty-fifty?"
They sat there spouting such nonsense.
Having finished work early for once, I returned to my bedroom.
'I must be crazy.'
But my face looked far too pale for someone who had finished work early. It was the face of someone who had caused a massive disaster. And indeed, I had.
— 'By force? Of course it's by choice! If I need to build connections, I do it! Do you think I can't?'
I had snapped back, thinking it was only right to correct them when they asked, 'Are you actually an outcast?' to a voluntary loner. Then, Kalisa, who had been quiet, pulled something out of a drawer.
— 'Was that the case? I had thought the Administrator felt uncomfortable with social networking.'
She then handed me a letter. It was an invitation, clearly, with a wax seal stamped onto a luxurious silk envelope. My mind went blank for a moment.
— 'I had been turning them down because I thought you disliked them, but I believe showing your face at this party would be advantageous for us.'
It was from Jefferson, the adjutant of Lontes.
— 'It is a party held to gather those whose interests are tied to the North and private enterprises, with the goal of fostering friendship and cooperation. I have turned it down twice, but the Lontes officials and nobles who have never met the Administrator are insisting that we arrange a meeting.'
These bastards—they should just split the money as per our contracts; why do they keep trying to act friendly? Is it still the eighties? Do we really need to see each other's faces, pass around shots, and go to a sauna to get work done?
— 'I believe you are a person who keeps their word.'
— '...Fine, I'll go.'
Kalisa smiled broadly. That woman. She really has a knack for setting the stage, not for nothing was she a merchant by trade. Since I had given my word, I couldn't take it back, and now I was being dragged to that godforsaken party. And to Lontes, no less.
"But what am I supposed to wear?"
Sitting slumped on my bed, my mind was a mess. I stood up and peeked into my closet, but it wasn't as if clothes would have spontaneously multiplied in there.
"Sigh..."
Still, it’s a party; I can't just go in my work clothes, right? I let out a sigh-filled mutter, worrying about whether I needed to go shopping, much like someone preparing for their first high school reunion. Of course, there was no point in worrying, as there wasn't a single boutique in this territory that sold ready-to-wear clothes I could just grab off a mannequin.
If it were my usual personality, I wouldn't even worry about this. As long as a person is dressed neatly, I never cared about looking cool or being the protagonist.
'But the problem is this position of mine.'
However, I knew it now. I wasn't just some random civil servant doing government work. My position—the one I had kept at a distance to avoid the burden on my shoulders—was that of the Northern Lord's deputy.
Because of this title, I couldn't be sloppy about my appearance. The North was already being looked down upon. Even if it was a party for partners tied by contract, if I looked like a mess, I would be looked down upon in an instant. It was obvious that my subordinates would suffer to reverse that impression. And the North, already suffering from chronic labor shortages, would likely see other priorities pushed aside just to recover the image I had tarnished.
'Haa.'
There's a reason politicians assign meaning to the color of their ties. Being the head of an organization is just like that. To put it crudely, a figurehead. Politically speaking, a symbol of diplomacy.
Knock, knock.
"I'm coming in."
The head maid's voice woke me from my sleep. Having always woken up before the servants to get ready, I realized I had overslept. I must have had a restless night, racking my brain over matters outside my expertise until dawn.
"Let me assist you with your grooming."
"Ah, right, I said I was leaving today."
"Yes."
"Please do."
Behind the head maid, several nimble-fingered maids entered the room with eager faces.
"The clothes were sent by Lady Kalisa."
"Kalisa?"
"She said to have them prepared in advance, as you would eventually have to make your debut."
At the head maid's kindly smile, my strength just drained away. Of course. There was no way my adjutant would have pushed me into a social event without such preparations. When I mentioned that I had been worrying all night, the servants styling my hair smiled and spoke up.
"She told us not to mention it until today, just in case you disliked the idea."
Hearing that, it made sense. The clothes hanging on the rack were, well—they were 180 degrees different from my personal taste. Still, it was better than going in my work uniform, so I resigned myself to the servants' ministrations.
Clatter!
"I-I-I'm so sorry!"
But the maids kept dropping things. Combs, toners, accessories.
"......?"
Since I had never attended a social event, this was my first time receiving help from maids since taking office. I just thought, quite simply, that they were nervous because they lacked experience.