This Wasn't What I Should Have Been Worrying About

A full week had already passed since the Foreign Executive Ministry came into being.

Then another week.

Time kept sliding by like that until, before I knew it, more than a month had gone by.

"Vice Minister, don't you think it's about time we had a deputy minister?"

"You're right. This workload is completely insane."

One of us had been mocked as a parachute appointee. The other had been torn apart under the bizarre nickname of the Empress's pillar of support. Yet faced with an overwhelming, murderous mountain of work, the two of us had somehow managed to become of one mind and one heart.

So we decided to each lean on our own backers (!) and somehow expand the personnel we desperately needed.

"Then I'll be heading out first, Minister."

"I'm counting on the Vice Minister's connections."

"Rest assured."

I sent off the Vice Minister—whose social circle was far wider than mine—and finally shut down the work holograms I had left floating open out of sheer stubbornness.

"See that, Riel? This is what they call dreams, friendship, and hope."

"I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure if we drift even a little further here, our whole world is going to collapse."

And at Riel's words, I suddenly realized the single most important fact of all.

The world… the universe… the game world… wait a second.

After all, the world I had transmigrated into was none other than a strategy management simulation. In other words, the most critical things in a strategy game—the empire's resource window and the species management window—were things I had not opened even once in the past several years.

Good grief. Have I been wasting time on nonsense while ignoring the most important thing?

Of course I couldn't keep beating myself up forever, so I decided to start by lightly checking the resource window.

Status window… hmm, resource window?

The resource window's UI began opening with a laggy stutter, as if the whole thing had frozen. And the sight that appeared right after filled me with a strange sensation.

…

How should I put it? It felt exactly like setting the game to auto-play with the mindset of "the AI will handle it," stepping away for a bit, and coming back to find the AI had ruined everything and was now proudly asking, "Did I do good?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

What the hell is this resource situation?

Had our empire gone to war with another nation without me noticing? There was no other way a peacetime resource supply this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠catastrophic could be greeting me.

But this was not a problem that would yield an answer no matter how hard I thought about it.

"Riel, is any of our empire's fleets currently in a wartime state?"

"Huh? What are you talking about all of a sudden?"

From Riel's perspective, the guy who had just been rambling about friendship had suddenly frozen, then immediately demanded a report on fleet combat status. Of course she would be thrown off…

"…Just a second. Let me check."

After more than ten years together, Riel took one look at my eyes and immediately linked into her computer to assess the situation. Barely ten seconds later—

"Confirmed. No combat or training reports have come in from any of the sector fleets."

"That so?"

I tapped the monthly income–monthly expenditure column in the resource window just in case, but unfortunately the system bastards hadn't done their jobs properly. The detailed breakdown that had existed in the original game simply refused to appear here.

…

"Did something weird pop up on your status window?"

"Mmm… yeah. The resource situation is a complete mess."

The funny part was that food and alloys, at least, looked rock-solid. The sheer determination not to starve to death and never to abandon the fleets practically radiated from the numbers, and I almost felt moved. But that wasn't what mattered right now. I rubbed my throbbing temples and groaned.

I wish they'd manage the other resources the same way.

"Hmm."

"Minister, um, there's one thing I'd like to ask."

"Yeah, go ahead."

"If it's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a resource problem, wouldn't it be better to inquire with the newly created Ministry of Industry and Resources instead of trying to figure it out ourselves?"

At Riel's words I took my fingers off my temples.

—Snap!

"That's the answer, Riel!"

I patted the head of a Riel who looked especially clever today and immediately tried to contact the Minister of Industry and Resources…

"…Can't get through."

The eerily familiar automated voice cut the call, and confusion flooded my head.

"Did it say the power was off?"

"One moment."

Riel, who had been watching me, closed her eyes and told me to wait. A moment later she opened them again.

"Apparently the old Ministry of Industry and Ministry of Resources merged, and the previous buildings weren't enough, so they just moved into a brand-new one."

"Ah, so they're in the middle of relocating."

"Yes. From what I checked… construction is still ongoing, so all Ministry of Industry and Resources business is being handled offline only."

In an age when interstellar travel was commonplace, they had gone and built an offline community center. Whoever thought of that was clearly full of pure madness. I tried a direct call to the Minister of Industry and Resources himself.

"I hope you've been well, Minister of Industry and Resources."

He picked up before the ringtone even finished once. His crisp reaction made me decide to continue in a calm yet clearly friendly tone. My strange reputation seemed to have put a little pressure on him, so I figured I should ease that as well.

After a long conversation in which I spun a plausible story based on the status window I had seen—

"That's right. Of course, it's nothing more than my personal worry."

No, if you go that far it's way too much pressure.

The Minister of Industry and Resources was taking this far more seriously than I had expected, and now I was the one feeling burdened. He had even stopped using the mutual-respect title of "Minister" and started attaching the clearly ultra-honorific "Your Grace."

"It's only my personal opinion, so please don't think too deeply about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it."

Stop. That's not what I meant.

Everything I had done to reduce the pressure seemed to have created some strange misunderstanding instead. My stomach twisted.

"W-well, in any case, I hope whatever you do turns out well… uh, I pray for it."

When that conversation—pressure incarnate right to the very end—finally finished, I felt every ounce of strength drain from my body.

Feels like I just got my essence drained… getting essence-drained over the phone by a non-humanoid alien…

It was a useless thought, yet somehow funny. Just as that idea crossed my mind—

"Wow… seriously…"

Riel's dumbfounded voice snapped me back to reality. I lifted my head. There she was, staring at me with an expression every bit as incredulous as her tone.

"What? Why?"

"Nothing. Just looking at someone who has no idea how thoroughly he gaslit someone with pure pressure makes me feel weird."

"Hey, I'm the victim here."

"Perpetrators always say they're the victims."

Even as this ridiculous frame-up crashed down on me, there was nowhere to vent the injustice. With that thought, I tried at least to suppress the sorrow.

…Species window.

This is what an outer space empire looks like. This is real SF.

An extreme multi-species federation that the original game's godforsaken processing speed had never allowed. One of my long-held fantasies was actually coming true right before my eyes, and the stress that had piled up eased just a little.

Of course, if the original game's players had ever seen this, they would have coughed up blood and then some.