Perfect Weather for a Beheading
It was the perfect weather for losing one's head. The sky visible through the window was a blinding blue. Warm sunlight streamed onto the floor of the office, covered in the finest carpet, while a pleasant spring breeze wafted in through the open window. Leaning back in his chair, Caleb stroked the nape of his neck with his fingertips.
"The weather's fucking gorgeous. Perfect day for the guillotine."
He imagined the blade of the executioner's axe biting into his neck under such clear skies—it felt profoundly unfair. Caleb. That was his name now. The Empire's Chancellor, the parasite who blinded the young princess to the kingdom's finances and devoured the national treasury. The most reviled corrupt chancellor, cursed by the people who spat in the streets at the mere mention of him.
The problem was that this world was from the novel he loved to read. And he knew Caleb's ending all too well.
Exactly one month from now. In just 30 days, the princess Chloe—who had been biding her time—would lead the Imperial Knight Order in a palace coup. And Caleb would be the first to have his head severed by her blade, his body hung in the public square as a warning.
"Haa..."
A sigh escaped him naturally. It had been only half a day since memories of his past life resurfaced—as a ruthless corporate raider and heartless accountant in South Korea. When he came to his senses, he was already the Empire's top scum, with his execution date looming.
The Caleb from the novel was an idiot. He thought he held real power, but in truth, he was just a shield for Marquis Valer, the head of the corrupt nobles. While the marquis's faction committed all sorts of embezzlement and corruption, Caleb stamped his name on the documents. In the end, he shouldered all the blame and infamy, vanishing as morning dew on the guillotine.
The textbook case of being discarded after use.
To clean up others' shit and lose his own head in the process? His past life's pride—the man who unearthed hidden ledgers and brought even chairmen to their knees—couldn't stomach such a plot.
Knock knock.
A knock echoed from the office door.
"Your Excellency the Chancellor. It's Gideon."
Baron Gideon. Marquis Valer's loyal hunting dog, one of the bastards who'd dumped piles of crap on him.
"Come in."
Baron Gideon entered, his oily face gleaming with a sleazy grin. Caleb wanted to slap those cheeks raw. In his arms was a thick stack of documents.
"Did you sleep well last night, Your Excellency? I've come regarding the agenda from the last meeting. I'd like your approval."
Gideon bowed obsequiously, carefully placing the documents on Caleb's desk.
Imperial Capital Slum Relief Funds Allocation and Execution Plan
On the surface, it was funding to save the slums' poor from starving or freezing through the winter. But Caleb knew its true purpose. The relief was a pretext; in reality, it was a money-laundering scheme to siphon massive sums from the treasury into Marquis Valer's faction pockets.
The original Caleb from the novel would've just asked how much kickback he'd get and signed off.
Caleb flipped through the pages silently. Less than a minute in, he let out a hollow laugh.
Wow, look at these assholes.
It was laughable. The numbers were so sloppily fudged. Procurement costs for relief goods were inflated five times market price. The transport guild was the baron's shell company. They even listed phantom slums to justify the budget.
A Korean National Tax Service auditor would've beaten the baron with the ledger binder on the spot and slapped him with life imprisonment. This was amateur-hour embezzlement.
"Your Excellency?"
As Caleb stared silently, Gideon's eyes flickered with unease.
"If the split doesn't please you, I can speak to Marquis Valer and increase your share..."
"Baron Gideon."
Caleb called softly, and the baron gulped.
"Y-yes! Your Excellency the Chancellor."
Caleb looked up at him.
"Did you draft this yourself?"
"Y-yes! I checked it meticulously myself. It won't catch the Imperial Audit Department's eye..."
"I see. Good work."
Caleb smirked, picking up the seal from the desk corner. Risk his neck on this shoddy ledger? Normally, he'd hurl it back and demand the baron's head.
But.
Thud!
Caleb slammed the red seal firmly onto the final page, right in the chancellor's approval box.
"Y-Your Excellency?"
Gideon's eyes bulged. Expecting nitpicks, he was stunned by the easy approval.
"Take it and proceed."
Caleb nodded at the papers. Gideon beamed, clutching them to his chest.
"A-as expected of Your Excellency! The marquis will be thrilled. As soon as the relief funds are executed, your share will be delivered discreetly first!"
"Good. I'm looking forward to it."
"Then I'll take my leave!"
Gideon bowed fawningly, exiting like he'd conquered the world. As the door shut, Caleb was alone again. Propping his chin on laced fingers, he stared at the door. His smile faded.
"Stupid bastards."
To pull a scam, first know who holds the books. Evidence ending at mere embezzlement? No. Now he had ironclad pretext to legally choke out Marquis Valer's faction.
30 days until guillotine. Before the princess's coup, he'd legally destroy the faction's head, refill the treasury. While they cheered his seal and popped champagne, he'd trace the funds and seize their lands and wealth via "tax audit."
An eye for an eye. To villains, show a more vicious, meticulous villainy.
"First prey: you, Baron Gideon."
He rose, approaching the window. Brushing back his wind-tossed black hair, he murmured toward the distant palace spire.
"Just wait a bit, Your Highness. I'll wrap your enemies nice and pretty for that fancy guillotine of yours."
Perfect weather for a beheading. Yes—but not his neck. Theirs.
Right after Gideon left bouncing with joy, Caleb pulled blank paper and a fountain pen from a deep desk drawer.
Scratch, scratch.
His hand flew, meticulously copying the core figures from Gideon's "Imperial Capital Slum Relief Funds Allocation Plan," the shell guild names, and the nobles tied to the approval chain.
Numbers don't lie. Only the bastards who write them do.
Ripping apart corrupt firms' double books for legal takeovers was his specialty, as natural as breathing. This world's ledger tricks were child's play.
Gideon's docs had fatal flaws. Cross-check the inflated budgets' shell guilds, and the real owner—Gideon himself—stuck out like a sore thumb.
With his seal, the funds were now legit Empire budget. Meaning he had audit rights to verify usage.
They'd swallow the "sweet" relief funds like honey. But it was poison eating them from inside.
Gather embezzlement proof, invoke Imperial Audit Law, raid Gideon's estate physically. Seize not just the relief funds but all his ill-gotten wealth via tax arrears. That was step one.
"To fight villains, show them the iron fist of law, crueler than their scams."
Scam properly or don't at all. Leaving such obvious trails made them ripe for legal plunder.
As he finished the blueprint with a satisfied smile—
Bang!
The office door flew open. A knight in silver armor burst in—princess's direct guard.
"Chancellor Caleb! Her Highness the Princess summons you. To the audience chamber, now!"
Rudeness incarnate. A mere knight treating the Chancellor so proved his precarious position.
But Caleb calmly set down the pen and stood.
"They replace the audience chamber carpet? I hate dust on my shoes."
"...Shut up and follow."
The knight glared with disgust, leading the way. Caleb shrugged lightly and followed.
The audience chamber chilled the air. On the high dais, in an ornate chair, sat the Empire's sole heir—and in 30 days, his grim reaper. Princess Chloe.
Crimson hair flowing beautifully, eyes a transparently red that pierced like ice. Her beauty overwhelmed the novel's description, but the ferocious aura pouring from her left no room for admiration.
"Caleb."
Her voice was glacial.
"You called, Your Highness."
Ignoring court protocol like it was dogshit, he gave a half-assed bow.
Chloe's red eyes flickered with rage.
"You'll grovel as Marquis Valer's dog to the bitter end, it seems."
"Dog? Perish the thought. I'm the Empire's loyal chancellor..."
"Silence!!"
Bang! Chloe slammed the armrest, leaping up.
"The slum relief funds! The last budget to save my people freezing and starving through winter! And you stamped that rat bastard Gideon's embezzlement plan. Explain yourself, you filthy worm!"
Her fury was justified. She was a princess with true qualities of a sage ruler, loving Empire and people. Thus, she bone-deep hated the bloodsucking nobles and their frontman: him.
Her eyes screamed she'd descend and rip out his throat.
But Caleb had no intention of backing down or groveling. Saying "Actually, it was my trap, I'm on your side" wouldn't fly—and it'd reach noble ears, costing his head first.
He needed to play the arrogant traitorous minister fully. Only then would his plan stay on track.
He smirked infuriatingly.
"Explain? I merely approved it for a very 'appropriate' use."
"Appropriate? Stuffing your and Valer's guts, that's appropriate?!"
"Politics costs money, doesn't it? Your Highness knows palace security trumps starving peasants."
"You bastard...!!"
Chloe's breath grew ragged. Her clenched fists seemed ready to draw blood.
"Caleb. I'll kill you."
She growled.
"For squeezing my people's blood. For insulting the Empire. I'll claim it all in your flesh and blood. The day your head rolls from the guillotine, I'll be laughing."
Guillotine. His nape chilled, but he shrugged casually.
"Scary words, Your Highness. But..."
He stepped forward, meeting her gaze arrogantly.
"I'll use those relief funds very 'well.' So sit pretty on your throne, wring your hands, and watch."
"...What?"
"How this chancellor rolls the Empire's money back to the people. Ah, my way might not suit Your Highness's tastes."
Inside, he screamed, I'll really use it well to refill your treasury, so calm down! But outwardly, he kept the heartless psychopath villain face.
Chloe bit her lip, speechless at the provocation. Hate, disgust, helplessness swirled in her eyes. Ignoring it, he turned.
"Then, off to spend the money. I'll take my leave. Oh, great weather today."
Exiting, something shattered behind him—likely an expensive vase hurled by the princess.
In the corridor, he glanced back at the sealed doors, sighing softly.
"That killing intent's no joke. In a month, my head really rolls."
But the dice were cast. With her full hatred, the nobles wouldn't suspect his moves.
Rumors of "Caleb brazenly admitted embezzlement and trolled the princess" would make Gideon tamper freely.
"Heh."
Looking up at the blue sky, he headed to his office.
"Alright then. Time to cut off the first prey's air."