No One Can Stop Me
Of course, my release only went as far as the end of the "torture."
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to personally educate you like this when I'm already buried in official duties every single day?"
"If it's hard, I think you could just... not do it."
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
Here was the Empress in a state no one outside this room would ever see—completely disheveled, one leg crossed over the other. Artraia sat like that while Riel and I occupied the sofa, sipping the tea the chamberlain had brought in.
"You dare talk back to the work this Empress is doing?"
"Aigoo, Your Maje-e-esty, please have mercy upon this humble servant!"
"Minister, that was the most soul-crushingly empty line I've ever heard, you know?"
"Shh."
We were even managing a little small talk like this on the side.
"Huuuh... anyway."
The earlier "torture" must have drained a fair amount of her stamina; fine beads of sweat traced the elegant line of Artraia's jaw. The fact that she had undone more than two buttons of her shirt suggested that even the Imperial Palace's perfect climate control couldn't cool the heat radiating from her.
On top of that, she had draped one arm over the back of the massive sofa like some back-alley thug and peeled off the thin cardigan she'd been wearing, tossing it aside. Anyone who didn't know better would have sworn she was trying to vent the fury of pure, unrestrained rage.
Apparently Riel shared the same thought.
"Minister, just hurry up and do a full dogeza so we can wrap this up already."
She whispered that little gem of advice right into my ear. Naturally I treated it the way one treats a skip button—pressing my forehead against hers and shoving her away.
I didn't do anything wrong.
And in truth, the Empress wasn't angry at all right now.
The Empress's Sulk
The Empress had intended to use you as a totem to forge a new faction.
But you cut that plan off at the root from the very beginning, and she returned alone in a foul mood.
That said, the fact remains that you performed far better than she expected.
Therefore, under the pretext of personally delivering your "punishment," the Empress decided to give you a full-body massage to soothe the exhaustion from your recent business trips and voyages.
She even underwent proper training from the palace's exclusive masseuse for the occasion.
Unfortunately, you arrived earlier than anticipated, so she had to perform the massage without completing the full course of training.
The Empress is embarrassed that she, as Empress, responded imperfectly—and that she failed to give you the absolute best massage possible.
Status window, take a damn hint.
The thing was force-feeding me a full annotated commentary on the Empress's current state right into my eyeballs.
Seriously, what kind of sulking is this? She's not a kid...
If it were someone with a scrawny, childlike frame like Riel, maybe. But when a woman who is pure volume everywhere except her stomach, waist, and limbs starts acting like that, it just feels... off.
Waaah, me baby Empress, give me headpats.
Still, leaving her like this would probably spawn some other headache later. I heaved an internal sigh, then deliberately rolled my shoulders and twisted my waist with exaggerated relief.
"Whoa, my exhausted body feels completely refreshed all of a sudden."
"..."
"As expected of Your Majesty—delivering punishment and reward at the same time. Kuhhh... bartender!"
"...I have no idea what you're talking about."
Artraia jerked her head away with a flat expression. Seeing that, Riel immediately leaned in to whisper in my ear again.
"What exactly do you think you're doing, Minister?"
"What? Why?"
"You just said that with the most lifeless delivery imaginable and now you're going with that?"
I had no comeback.
"The Minister they call the Man of a Thousand Faces in diplomatic settings—are you really going to leave it like that?"
Leave it to a robot to beat me over the head with pure, unfiltered facts. Instinctively I looked away from Riel's fact-violence—
—tap tap.
"Riel. Look at that."
"Anyway... ah."
At the end of my averted gaze, the Empress's turned-away ear had flushed a deep red. Riel's expression twisted into something complicated once more.
And so, under the complicated atmosphere, Artraia's order to leave—issued so she could somehow regain her composure—sent us back to the Executive Ministry.
The next day, an official document from the Imperial Palace arrived at the Minister's office of the Executive Ministry.
"Look at this, Riel! We finally did it!"
"...I never imagined the man who refused every form of wealth and power would be this happy over a long vacation."
I was doing a little victory dance while Riel's snark poured in from the side. Of course I handled that with a deep, refined explanation and dialogue.
"Tsk tsk. Still no awareness of human mental fatigue. That, my dear, is your limit."
"You know that's a discriminatory remark against the machine race, right?"
"Yep. Our Empire doesn't do equality."
"Meatbag level."
"Tin-can level."
Thus the Minister and Duke of a galactic empire, and the highest-performance top-tier humanoid, exchanged refined conversation while packing the necessary luggage.
"But Minister, you don't even have a mansion—this place is basically your home. When you say vacation, are you seriously planning to just move into the palace?"
"Riel, what kind of nonsense is that?"
The sheer horror of what she had just said made me realize I urgently needed to correct her warped values.
"Remember this, Riel. I have my own place to enjoy a proper vacation."
"Heeh."
Her thoroughly unconvinced look prompted me to pull out my terminal and show her a photo of a truly magnificent villa.
"The Empire's finest resort: Amauros Planet in the Gaia System."
"Oh."
"I bought a villa there so I could rest whenever a long vacation like this came around."
"Wow... that's amazing."
Apparently she had finally grasped the greatness of humanity; Riel's eyes went round with genuine surprise as she continued.
"Buying it ten years in advance for a vacation that only comes around once every five years—and then never once managing to go. Incredible."
"..."
The last part left an indelible scar on my heart, but I decided to treat it as part of the entertainment.
—clap!
"Anyway, packing complete!"
"I'll have the luggage loaded onto the high-ranking official vessel at the spaceport in advance."
At last we were ready to depart on our joyful vacation journey. Like a party of heroes about to storm the Demon King's castle, we were just about to open the office door with our mountain of luggage when—
—bang!
"Ah, you haven't left yet, Minister?"
The sudden appearance of Alimus, Vice Minister of the Executive Ministry, filled me with pure delight.
"Long time no see, Alimus. Work going well?"
"Yes. There haven't been any particular issues with the Purge Squad for a while, so..."
Alimus looked exhausted, yet genuinely happy, so I clapped him on the shoulder.
"Really, you've worked hard."
"Not at all. You've worked far harder, Minister."
After that light exchange of pleasantries I gestured to Riel—who was hauling a massive backpack and pulling a suitcase—and started to leave the office.
Or rather, I tried to.
"...Alimus? Sorry, but could you step aside for a moment?"
If only our Vice Minister had simply moved out of the doorway.
"..."
"Alimus?"
"..."
"Come on, I really hate that kind of joke."
"Minister."
The moment the words left Alimus's mouth—
"That face! That face!"
"Minister."
"That tone! No! Stop!"
I flung aside the luggage I had so carefully packed and threw everything I had into preventing the despair-inducing words about to emerge from Alimus's lips.
But...
"Your vacation has been cancelled, Minister."
"NOOOO!!!"
The frail body of a mere paper-pusher could never stop Alimus's elegant dodge.
"Minister, just give up already and sell that villa."
"Ugh, my heart..."
Thus denied the chance to enjoy My Heart-Pounding Vacation Diary — Reunion with the Lovely Villa, I turned to Alimus with a heart full of rage.
"What the hell could possibly be so important that you re-capture me on the very day I finally get a vacation?"
"To be precise, every official responsible for economic and diplomatic affairs—including yourself, Minister—has been summoned to the Imperial Palace."
At those words I could only tilt my head in confusion.
There shouldn't be any problem that requires me. Why would Artraia call me in too?
And if it was an economic issue, even including the recent Thalianum crisis, relations with neighboring nations hadn't been particularly bad.
If something like that were brewing, I'd have been contacted long before it fully surfaced.
Still completely in the dark, I decided to follow Alimus's words and return to the palace first.
Whoever had just murdered my vacation—once I found them, they would not walk away unscathed.
And when I entered the palace and learned the cause, I had to shove my fist into my mouth to keep from wailing out loud.
"This is an official document that just arrived from a Trade Coalition merchant caravan..."
"No... what in the world is this..."
"Heh heh heh."
Because right before our eyes lay a casino bill for a sum that nearly equaled the Empire's entire annual budget.
And stamped clearly upon it was the seal of none other than the late Predecessor Emperor.