Oscar-Worthy Slum Spectacle
In the deepest recesses of the Imperial Palace, in a secluded office where even light struggled to penetrate, Princess Chloe gazed at a map depicting the Empire's territories and let out a deep sigh.
Across the map, fertile granary regions and vital mana stone mines—key strategic points—were all marked with red flags. These were the lands held by the Empire's corrupt noble faction, led by Marquis Valer and his noble alliance.
In stark contrast, the imperial direct territories marked in blue looked utterly pathetic.
"The imperial authority has hit rock bottom."
Chloe muttered bitterly.
It had been three years since the late emperor collapsed from an inexplicable illness and took to his sickbed. All that was left to Chloe, who had assumed regency at a young age, was an empty treasury and arrogant nobles running rampant.
A handful of loyalists, including Knight Commander Aris, guarded the imperial house, but force alone couldn't rule the Empire. Maintaining the army and feeding the people required enormous amounts of money.
Yet the noble faction controlled 70% of the Empire's economy, evading taxes through every loophole and embezzlement scheme, tightening their noose around the imperial neck.
That's why I can't just mobilize the knights right now and chop off Marquis Valer's and Caleb's heads.
Aris urged her to use force, but that would be reckless. Executing the noble leaders without ironclad justification and clear evidence would prompt the alliance to cut off food supplies and taxes to the capital immediately.
The ones who would starve would be the commoners, and the imperial house would ultimately perish in the flames of civil war.
So Chloe had to bide her time in silence. Waiting for that one fatal piece of evidence that would force those greedy beasts to bleed out and collapse.
"Caleb……."
The cursed name slipped from Chloe's lips.
The man she despised most. The ultimate traitor who led the nobles' charge in eroding imperial authority like their loyal dog.
But she had no idea. That the very man she loathed was, at that moment, locked in an absurd struggle in the slums.
-
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Long live the Chancellor!"
"Whoa there, I'll haul all this dirt myself, so you go grab more meat, old man Paul!"
The canal construction site in the slums buzzed with energy. Workers gleamed under the sunlight. Thanks to hearty meals, their faces shone with grease, and lively work songs never ceased.
Nowhere did they look like "poor slum dwellers suffering under harsh forced labor."
It was more like national team athletes training for the Olympics.
I watched the heartwarming scene while gnawing on a chicken leg.
"That's right, my sweet retirement funds. Dig deep, but don't get hurt."
That's when it happened.
Captain Cassel came sprinting up, his face pale as a ghost.
"Ch-Chancellor! Big trouble!"
"What? Did a rockslide happen?"
"No, it's Count Root! He's arrived at the site entrance with his private guards! He says he's here for a surprise inspection to check how the 5,000 gold he entrusted is being used!"
"……What?!"
The chicken leg dropped from my mouth.
Count Root. A core member of Marquis Valer's faction and one of the corrupt officials who'd commissioned me to launder his slush funds.
And now a surprise inspection? To see this mess?
In the middle of the site, workers had piled chicken bones like mountains and were picking at them. Some were belching loudly, bellies full.
If Root saw this? "He's throwing a party for the slums with my slush funds? That traitor's done for!" He'd rat me out to the marquis in a heartbeat.
"F-Fuck! Cassel, ring the bell now!! Emergency!!"
Dong- dong- dong-!
The frantic emergency bell silenced the site like a graveyard.
The slum dwellers looked at me in confusion.
I leaped onto the platform and bellowed into the magic amplifier.
"Listen up, you bastards!! Throw all those chicken bones into the bonfire right now, and scrub the grease off your mouths with dirt!!"
"Y-Yes?! Chancellor! What do you——"
"Some noble prick named Count Root is coming for an inspection! Do as I say, you idiots!!"
At my words, the slum dwellers' eyes widened like saucers.
Then, among them, the wrinkled old man I'd preached the "truth" to a few days ago slapped his knee as realization dawned.
"Aha……!! The Chancellor, who covers himself in filth for our sake, is squeezing more money out of that corrupt bastard with the big picture!!"
"What? No, that's not——"
"Brothers!! We can't ruin the Chancellor's grand scheme! Drop your pickaxes and start groaning! Roll in the dirt pathetically for the Chancellor!!"
"Ooooh!! For the Chancellor!!"
My protests fell on deaf ears as the slum dwellers flopped onto the dirt in unison.
And their tear-jerking Hollywood performance began.
"Aigoo, I'm dying! The evil chancellor is starving us to death!!"
"M-My legs…… my legs! I can't walk 'cause I haven't eaten!"
"Ughhh! Please, just one sip of water, Your Excellency! Cough, cough!"
What the hell? Why is their acting so ridiculously top-tier? I thought scouts from the imperial theater troupe had shown up.
Soon, a fancy carriage rolled past the checkpoint barricade.
The man who stepped out was Count Root, pinching his nose amid a cloud of perfume.
"Aigoo, Chancellor! Sorry for dropping by unannounced—did I startle you?"
I switched my expression in a flash, plastering on the sleaziest villain grin imaginable, and approached the count.
"Ah, Count Root. Startled? Nah, I was just whipping these trash heaps good."
The count surveyed the slum dwellers rolling in dirt, coughing up "blood," hand over his mouth with a handkerchief.
His lips curled in satisfaction.
"Oho…… Listen to those wretched screams! Look at them crawling, skin and bones. Your Excellency's cruelty has reached the realm of art."
"What, this is just basic. No food for lazy vermin. Makes fudging the construction ledgers a breeze, thanks to you."
The count nodded approvingly and patted my shoulder.
"Excellent! My 5,000 gold slush fund is being laundered transparently and reliably. Squeezing the people's blood like this while fooling the princess—Marquis will be thrilled."
Root shivered in delight at the hellish scene, relieved his money was safe.
"I'll send another 10,000 gold soon. Dig that canal faster, even if you have to separate their bones from flesh. Kahahaha!"
"You bet. Looking forward to it. Kekeke."
The count and I locked eyes and burst into villains' hearty laughter.
Moments later, his carriage kicked up dust as it left the slums, inspection complete to his satisfaction.
Once it vanished from sight—
Pop.
The old man who'd been "dying" on the ground sprang up. He spat out the dirt from his mouth and yelled around.
"He gone?!"
"Yeah! Carriage's out!"
Hundreds who'd been groaning moments ago stood, brushed dirt off their asses, and dug into the hidden chicken under rocks like nothing happened.
The old man grinned and approached me.
"Your Excellency! How was our acting? Fooled that corrupt prick good!"
I rubbed my forehead in disbelief.
"Haa…… Oscar-worthy, you bastards."
"Don't know what an Oscar is, but that's praise! Brothers! Another 10,000 gold incoming! Double the shoveling tomorrow for the Chancellor!!"
"Wooooh!!"
The site erupted again with lively work songs and vigorous digging.
I whistled lightly, my mind much lighter.
Count Root, promising 10,000 more gold? I'll squeeze every sweet drop outta you.
-
After Count Root's "successful" surprise inspection, the slum canal project advanced like a wildfire.
Corrupt nobles rushed to commission slush fund laundering, shoving tens of thousands of gold my way. I splurged it on premium meals and fat bonuses for the workers.
Well-fed, well-rested, and rewarded—they worked like madmen.
Execution day, D-20.
I propped my feet on the temporary office desk and marked an X on the calendar with red ink.
On schedule, the canal would finish before the princess's coup.
I already had massive real slush funds stashed, forged IDs, and top-tier carriage tickets to flee the Empire.
Perfect. Suck honey for 20 more days, play the embezzler cosplay, then bounce—happy ending for life.
As I lifted my teacup dreaming of sweet retirement—
"Your Excellency!! Chancellor!!"
The office door nearly shattered as Cassel burst in.
The ever-stoic Cassel looked far graver than during Root's visit.
"What now? Did Marquis Valer himself show up?"
"No! In sector 3 of the site…… the workers have collapsed en masse!"
"What? En masse?"
I set down the cup and shot to my feet.
Top-grade safety gear, strict shifts, hearty meat meals—mass collapse? Food poisoning?
"Lead the way. Now."