The War on Drugs (6)
Josepina, Laura, and Mikhail. The three of them were immersed in a leisurely afternoon meeting.
“This is the activity report for the artists sponsored by Your Highness.” Laura opened the folder with an elegant gesture. Her voice was as clear and confident as ever.
“Various works have produced respectable results, but the success of the novel Metamorphosis is simply overwhelming. At this point, it seems there isn’t a single person left in the capital’s social circles—or across the entire empire—who hasn’t read it.”
“Hmm.” Mikhail, sprawled sideways on the sofa and staring at the ceiling, let out a low murmur.
“As expected from the author of Catharina and Henrietta. She’s an absolute master at seizing people’s hearts and shaking them for all they’re worth.”
He accepted the documents Laura handed over with apparent indifference, yet his eyes swept across the pages with sharp precision. Josepina watched him quietly.
The 7th Prince, Grand Duke Mikhail. He was nothing like the rumors that circulated in the capital. Wastrel. Drunkard. Madman. That was what she had heard. But the man she had come to know firsthand was the ideal superior. He never skimped on budget or time. When she brought him reports, he might appear to skim them, but he read every line and asked only a handful of questions that cut straight to the heart of the matter. Once she answered and he was satisfied, approval came without hesitation. When unexpected issues forced changes to their plans, he told her exactly how to adjust them. Truly the best kind of boss.
“We should link this with… merchandise. Souvenirs, that sort of thing.” Mikhail muttered without lifting his eyes from the papers. “Sell beautifully illustrated scenes from the novel. Make statues of the protagonist Marta. Hell, we could even hold a contest. Put up a fat prize.”
He never summoned her for pointless tasks. Forcing drinks under the guise of a team dinner or asking for personal favors after hours was unimaginable. The most he ever did was toss out the occasional mischievous joke after a report or during a meeting. Even that wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it lightened the rigid atmosphere and made it almost enjoyable. Probably because he never demanded she laugh at his humor.
Above all, he never stole credit from his subordinates. He let her fully own every achievement she made. Of course, it might simply be that as a member of the imperial family he had no interest in trivial merits. Whatever the reason, it had allowed a commoner like her to rise to the extraordinary position of close aide to a prince at such a young age.
“A contest… An excellent suggestion, Your Highness.” Laura immediately began fleshing out the idea. “We can structure it so that we retain the copyright to the winning entry. No legal issues with that, I trust, Miss Jugashvili?”
Despite the abrupt question, Josepina answered without a moment’s hesitation. “If the contest guidelines clearly state the copyright attribution clause, participants are properly notified, and consent is obtained, there will be no complications. We simply need to establish clear regulations for handling taxes and public dues based on the prize amount.”
“Then we’re good.” Mikhail gave a satisfied nod.
As he sipped his tea, Josepina’s thoughts continued. His Highness Mikhail doesn’t make sexual demands, either. That was what she appreciated most. Occasionally he would rest his hand on her head and stroke it a few times, but there was never any lust in the gesture. It felt more like… being a pet performing tricks and receiving praise from its owner. That part puzzled her. Why her? There was Laura Valeriano, a cat beastkin right there. Wouldn’t petting a head with soft cat ears feel far more pleasant?
Josepina unconsciously toyed with the ends of her silver hair. It was reasonably soft, but utterly ordinary. Her gaze drifted to Laura. Ah. A hypothesis occurred to her. It’s because I’m short… My head sits at the perfect height for his hand to reach.
Indeed, Josepina Jugashvili was unusually petite. There was no trace of dwarf or goblin blood in her veins, yet her stature remained small. If that was truly the reason, it felt strangely disappointing.
Having reached that conclusion, Josepina spoke up quietly. “What if we recreated scenes from the novel in our Far East Maritime Province Tourism Special Zone, or in locations readers speculate might be the story’s setting?”
People usually pay more attention to appearances than inner substance. First impressions matter, as they say. The same goes for every policy. How you package and present something is the most important factor.
Josepina added the explanation while recalling what Mikhail had said on the awards day of the Texas Hold’em tournament.
“Like reconstructing a crime scene at a murder site to catch the culprit.”
“Oh, that’s not bad.” Mikhail’s eyes gleamed with interest. “We were planning a play anyway. We can use the props from the performance for this.”
“If we’re talking props…”
“It would be better to auction the props themselves. Assuming the play enjoys the same success as the novel, of course. We should recruit talented costume designers and release entirely new designs each season. The limited-edition scarcity would drive even higher demand.”
“I like it.” Mikhail stretched as he rose from the sofa, joints cracking pleasantly. “That wraps things up. Shall we get dinner?”
He strolled over to Josepina and, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, placed his hand on her head and stroked it gently a few times.
“You’ll join us, won’t you?”
Josepina gave a small nod. Behind Laura, who followed Mikhail out, the woman’s golden tail swayed contentedly. Josepina had always wanted to touch it at least once. Maybe she should ask now? They were both women, so it wouldn’t count as harassment, would it?
With that thought in mind, Josepina stood up. As they left the office, Mikhail and Laura began to bicker over the dinner menu.
“For some reason I’m craving something spicy and tangy today… How about Hispania cuisine?”
“I find myself longing for Republican Union dishes. A tender osso buco would be wonderful.”
Both pairs of eyes turned to Josepina at once.
“What about you?” Mikhail asked.
Josepina pretended to consider it for a moment before answering. “I believe Hispania cuisine would be good.”
In truth both options sounded delicious, so it made no difference. This was simply the pragmatic choice of pleasing one’s superior.
“How underhanded,” Laura grumbled, though her face wore a smile.
After a delicious and filling dinner with Mikhail and Laura, Josepina returned to her quarters in the Grand Duke’s Mansion.
Staying at the mansion was an extraordinary courtesy from Grand Duke Mikhail. It was markedly different treatment from the other officials dispatched to the Far East Maritime Province, who rented rooms or purchased homes in Vladivostok. That single fact was enough to earn her meaningful smiles or blatant jealous glances from the mansion’s servants and maids whenever they saw her.
Whatever fantasies they entertained about her relationship with Mikhail, it was none of her concern. She had no intention of marrying anyone anyway. She could not possibly give up the bathroom where hot water poured abundantly, the soft pajamas that smelled of sunlight after being freshly laundered, or the bed so plush her body sank deeply into it.
Why did the Valeriano Chairwoman refuse?
The thought occurred to her as she sat on the soft bed. Mikhail had made the same offer to Laura. Yet she had politely declined and chosen the daily inconvenience of commuting by carriage from her own estate.
…Because she’s rich?
Josepina quickly supplied her own answer. Of course a wealthy person would prefer her own home. That had to be it.
She brushed the trivial thoughts aside and lay down. The tension throughout her body melted away like thawing snow. Strangely, sleep would not come. Still lying down, she raised her hand above her head and mimicked the stroking motion Mikhail had used.
Josepina kicked off the blanket and rose from the bed. She stood before the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The reflection showed a woman in plain pajamas with her hair tied back carelessly. Her age was similar to Laura Valeriano’s, yet they looked nothing alike. Unlike Laura, her chest was small and her height even smaller. Her hips were somewhat similarly proportioned, but that was where the resemblance ended.
Would it improve if I dressed up a little?
Gaining the favor of one’s superior was an important virtue. If Mikhail was right, then cultivating one’s appearance could also serve as proof of capability.
Staring into the mirror, Josepina found herself recalling Laura’s smile for no particular reason. Laura always wore a relaxed, confident smile. Josepina slowly lifted the corners of her own mouth. In the mirror, the expression looked vaguely similar to Laura’s. At least from the mouth up.
But something was crucially different. Even to her own eyes, the expression was unbearably awkward and strange.
The eyes…
Yes. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes remained completely still. The eyes in the mirror simply stared back at her, cold and emotionless.
Josepina frowned slightly.
“Would it get better… if I practiced?”
Could she earn even greater favor from His Highness Mikhail? And could she achieve her dream?
Josepina gazed at the woman with the awkward smile in the mirror and quietly asked herself the question.