Already in Shambles

"W-What on earth is all of this...?"

"These are petitions for dispute mediation submitted by the various races throughout the Empire, Your Majesty."

"If they are not handled with the utmost urgency, they could spiral into catastrophic conflicts."

The moment the morning council convened, Emperor Importin’s face soured at the towering mountain of paperwork piled high before him.

"No, this is absurd! Did I not explicitly decree that each race should appoint its own representative and settle these matters amongst themselves?!"

At his imperious roar, the trembling officials holding the documents exchanged cautious glances before speaking up.

"Your Majesty... The racial envoys can only speak their own native tongues."

"Even in the rare instances where a tribe possesses an interpreter, they can handle the languages of two species at the absolute most."

A throbbing ache seized Importin’s temples. The mountain of imperial affairs demanding his attention at the morning cabinet meeting was already suffocating. And now, he was expected to personally meddle in petty racial squabbles?

"Incompetent subhumans, the lot of them!" Importin spat, making no attempt to veil his contempt. "Are you telling me not one of them has the wits to learn a neighboring tongue?!"

Standing beside the throne, the senior bureaucrats hesitantly offered another bitter truth.

"Forgive our presumption, Your Majesty, but mastering three or more non-human languages is an extraordinary feat. Even among mankind, scholars endowed with such linguistic aptitude can be counted on one hand."

Importin had spent his entire life cocooned inside the gilded birdcage of the Imperial Palace, ascending the throne merely a few years ago. His grasp of practical governance was appalling. He truly had no concept of just how vanishingly rare it was to find someone capable of conversing fluently across multiple species.

"Furthermore," the official pressed on, "because every racial chieftain relentlessly prioritizes their own people's selfish interests, leaving them to negotiate alone yields nothing but dead ends."

"Fools blinded by sheer greed...!"

Worse still, resolving bitter feuds was never as simple as merely understanding words. To coax warring bloodlines toward a peaceful compromise, a mediator had to thoroughly grasp the sacred culture, ancestral customs, and deepest taboos of each species. What did they hold dearer than life itself? What could they afford to concede? Only an arbiter who saw through their traditions with absolute clarity could carve out terms both sides could accept without bloodshed.

"Then ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply dictate an imperial verdict and shove it down their throats!"

"Your Majesty... That directly defies the sacred will of the Late Emperor."

"Indeed, Sire. Slapping a hasty bandage over ethnic grievances will only allow the rot to fester beneath the surface, courting an inevitable catastrophe down the line."

Nor was encyclopedic cultural knowledge the final piece of the puzzle. An effective mediator needed the silver-tongued charm to soothe raw tempers over drinks, yet also command the overwhelming martial prowess to shut up recalcitrant warlords when reason failed. Without that balance of velvet and steel, inter-species diplomacy was impossible.

"God damn it all...!"

BAM—!!

Importin’s fist slammed onto the grand council table. He had thrown away priceless gold without ever understanding its worth, and now, the imperial bill was coming due.

The Conflict Management Department office.

Or rather, my former office.

I packed my personal belongings into a cardboard box in silence. My guts were churning with bitter fury, but I made sure none of it showed on my face. Throwing a petty tantrum here would only make life miserable for my subordinates, who still had to transfer to other departments. And storming the throne room to scream at the Emperor would accomplish nothing beyond getting my head parted from my shoulders.

I swallowed my indignation. For now, I planned to take a well-deserved sabbatical and figure out my next move at leisure.

"Chief! Are we... are we really getting fired...?!"

Unlike me, Carmel was having an exceptionally hard time letting go.

"Calling it 'getting fired' is an exaggeration," I said dryly. "You'll just be reassigned to another branch."

"Then... what about you, Chief...?"

Carmel gazed up at me, her wide eyes brimming with anxious concern. She could probably sense the crushing disappointment buried beneath my stoic expression. Even so, I kept my voice perfectly calm.

"I decided to hand in my resignation."

"Huh...?"

"My skillset isn't particularly useful anywhere else in the bureaucracy anyway. Besides, after running an entire department as a director, being demoted to an ordinary desk elsewhere would just make everyone uncomfortable."

"B-But still..." Her head drooped despondently.

I reached out and gently patted her soft hair. "Unlike me, who only survived on a niche talent, you'll thrive wherever you're sent. Sincerity and hard work are virtues that shine anywhere."

To be frank, Carmel was never cut out for the grueling analytical work of conflict mediation. She wasn't blessed with the sharpest deductive mind. What she did possess, however, was an inexhaustible work ethic and an extraordinary talent for getting along with anyone. That alone had earned her the seat of my deputy, which was nothing to sneeze at.

"Then... what are you going to do once you leave, Chief?" she asked, peeking up at me through damp lashes while my hand rested on her head.

"Who knows. I haven't really thought that far ahead."

I had worked myself to the bone for years on end; my immediate priority was to hole up at home, pamper my battered body, and do absolutely nothing.

Though just lounging around the house sipping tea and reading the morning papers ought to deliver a massive hit of dopamine.

If my memory served me right, the Empire was about to become an absolute circus. Without a leash, all those diverse races would soon be tearing at each other's throats. Just watching the fireworks from the comfort of my sofa brought a vindictive smirk to my lips.

Once I grew bored, I could slowly explore other career paths. Between my transmigration perks and encyclopedic foreknowledge of this world, there was zero risk of me starving. Add in the hefty nest egg I'd socked away as a senior imperial official, plus a monthly government pension, and my financial future was rock-solid.

"Chief...!"

Apparently, my nonchalant attitude and business-as-usual packing were more than Carmel could stomach. Her voice hitched, rising in pitch.

"Aren't you even furious?!"

"About what?"

"About everything! You broke your back for this Empire's peace and stability for years! You pulled all-nighters more than five days a week, and I know for a fact you never even received proper overtime pay! You skipped so many meals mediating dispute conferences that you practically wasted away to skin and bone! Your hair was even starting to... ahem! Anyway! You dedicated your heart and soul in absolute loyalty to His Majesty and the Empire, and yet... sniff! Dissolving our department overnight?! And all those court nobles gossiping behind your back, whispering that racial friction doesn't even exist, asking if you were just slacking off in a cushy job... Aren't you sick to your stomach that you have to walk away like this?!"

Her face had turned bright red, tears spilling over as she vented every ounce of pent-up indignation on my behalf.

Hey now, Carmel. My hairline is still gloriously thick, thank you very much.

Still, watching her rage so passionately on my behalf warmed my chest. I lowered my hand from her head with a faint smile. "I'm grateful, Carmel. At least you know what I went through."

Turning back to my desk, I resumed placing my personal effects into the box.

"I'm...!"

Behind me, Carmel choked back a sob before shouting at the top of her lungs.

"I'm going to quit too...!"

Wait, why are you quitting now?

"I refuse to work for an organization that treats its finest talents like disposable trash! I'm turning in my resignation alongside you!"

"Hey. Stop that right now."

Good grief, Carmel. A stable civil service career isn't something you throw away on an emotional whim.

"Where is this coming from all of a sudden? What would you even do if you quit?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to get by! You said it yourself, Chief—I'm hardworking, so I'll survive anywhere! I simply cannot bear to serve an Empire that kicks someone like you to the curb!"

She clutched her fists tightly against her voluptuous chest, her tearful, determined expression almost painfully endearing. While I genuinely appreciated the sentiment, there was no way in hell I could let her derail her livelihood out of misplaced loyalty.

"Stop spouting nonsense and keep your job."

"Chief, please...!"

"If you quit because of me, I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life. You want that on my conscience?"

"...Hmph."

Carmel pouted her lips, radiating disappointment from every pore. Right now, she sounded as though she couldn't bear to live in a world without her beloved supervisor, but give it a few months. Once she settled into her new post and got swept up in the daily grind, the sting of today's injustice would fade. Imperial bureaucrats were perpetually buried under tidal waves of paperwork; surviving each day took everything they had.

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You don't need to carry this bitterness, Carmel. I'll shoulder every ounce of it alone.

The Conflict Management Department was officially erased from the registry, and my letter of resignation was rubber-stamped without a hitch. Just like that, I was an unemployed freeloader.

"Haaah... Lounging around in bed on a weekday morning is pure heaven."

For the past few days, I hadn't stepped foot outside my front door. After a decade soaked in mandatory overtime, night shifts, and emergency dispatches, my body had long forgotten the meaning of rest. Finally, I was granting my battered flesh the indulgence of true convalescence.

...Though every time I remember that bastard Emperor's face, my blood still boils.

My muscles were unwinding, but my pride remained battered. The dagger-sharp words the Emperor had hurled at me still stung like an open wound. Hiding in my apartment wasn't just about physical recuperation; it was about patching up my mangled peace of mind.

Hah. Let it go. Whether the Empire tears itself apart or burns to ash, what does it have to do with me?

I flipped over lazily beneath the blankets. It had been several days since the mediation department closed its doors, which meant a terrifying mountain of unresolved disputes was already accumulating on imperial desks. Aside from me, there wasn't a soul in the entire realm capable of stitching those ethnic rifts closed before the powder keg ignited.

Not that I gave a damn.

It wasn't like I walked away voluntarily; the Emperor himself had kicked me to the curb. Whether the non-human races declared open war on each other or plotted clandestine rebellions to establish sovereign ethnostates, it wasn't my problem anymore. If the continent devolved into a raging sea of flames, I'd simply buy a ticket to a remote tropical island and live out my days sipping coconut juice.

Damn it. The harder you try not to dwell on something, the louder it rings in your head.

Human psychology was an annoying thing. Hoping to clear my mind, I reached out to the bedside table and snatched up today's edition of the imperial newspaper. But the moment my eyes scanned the front page, I nearly burst out laughing.

"Well, well. Look at this glorious trainwreck. Tsk, tsk."

Disaster headlines plastered the paper from margin to margin. I had barely been out of office for a handful of days, and the entire continent was already coming unglued. I made a show of clicking my tongue with mock concern, but the wicked satisfaction bubbling in my chest was impossible to suppress.

Go on, Your Imperial Majesty. Let's see you handle this without me. You're about to learn real quick what happens to an empire when the foundation gives way.

How could I not revel in this? Suppressing a stream of petty chuckles, I eagerly turned to the next page.

Within the sovereign enclave of the Beastfolk.

Inside the war tent of the Canine Beastfolk—one of the five most dominant packs on the continent—pack chieftain Nirka was presiding over an emergency council of his blood-brothers.

"Those miserable monkey bastards looted our granary again?!"

"Yes, Captain! Every last sack of grain was cleaned out, and the snow was covered in nothing but simian paw prints!"

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"Rabid, fleabitten mongrels...!!"

A feral roar erupted from Nirka’s throat upon hearing his lieutenant's report. The simian beastfolk had once again crossed the territorial boundary to pillage their winter stockpiles.

"Grrrr...! File a formal grievance with the Empire's Conflict Management Department this instant!"

Left to his natural instincts, Nirka would have charged straight into the monkey tribe’s canopy villages to throttle their chief and drag his people’s food back by force. Ever since the Empire unified the continent, however, such reckless retaliation was forbidden. The Late Emperor had enshrined a supreme imperial decree: All inter-species hostilities shall be submitted to and arbitrated by the Imperial Conflict Management Department. Promulgated under the revered Imperial Charter, it was the supreme law of the land, one no tribe dared flout lightly.

Yet his lieutenant’s face fell into uneasy hesitation.

"Captain... The Conflict Management Department has been... disbanded."

"...What did you say?"

"You recall His Majesty’s recent declaration regarding administrative streamlining? He vowed to purge unnecessary departments. It appears the Conflict Management Department was among the first on the chopping block."

Nirka froze, utterly dumbfounded. Disbanding the Conflict Management Department because it was unnecessary? Did that arrogant little brat on the throne have any idea how many blood-soaked clan wars had been averted inside the Round Table Conference Hall instead of on the battlefield?!

Nirka was intimately acquainted with the former department director, Grade 5 Conflict Manager Jose.

A linguistic genius who spoke every tongue spoken under the sun. An astute anthropologist who comprehended the primal psychology and sacred traditions of every species. A terrifying combatant whose raw martial prowess and physical might rivaled the Empire's top knight commanders. And a silver-tongued diplomat capable of extinguishing murderous bloodlust with razor-sharp wit and unyielding poise.

All of those legendary traits were embodied in a single human being: Manager Jose.

The Canine Beastfolk were notoriously territorial and combative, meaning Nirka had crossed paths with Jose on countless occasions. Every single time, Jose had steered explosive clashes that should have ended in massacres toward peaceful, honorable compromises. Nirka respected strength, and he respected Jose. For that very reason, he found the news of the department's dissolution entirely unbelievable.

"Is this true? You're certain?!"

"It's printed right here in the human news, Captain."

The lieutenant handed over a fresh imperial gazette. Sure enough, a prominent article bore the headline:

Has the new Emperor lost his damned mind?!

The continent had only recently been unified. The wounds of conquest were fresh, and the fragile harmony between disparate races desperately required patient cultivation and delicate balance. Even a rough warrior like Nirka understood that elementary political reality. If a savage like him grasped it, what excuse did the ruler of an empire have?

"Then how the hell are we supposed to resolve territorial disputes from now on?"

"The palace decree states that racial representatives must resolve disputes among themselves..."

"Among ourselves?"

Nirka’s eyes narrowed into slit-pupil daggers. Resolving it among themselves was just a polite human euphemism for returning to the old ways, wasn't it?

"Summon the pack lieutenants."

"Captain? What do you intend to do?"

"What else?" Nirka unsheathed ten gleaming, razor-sharp claws from his fingertips, his lips curling back over vicious fangs. "We march straight into monkey territory and take our food back in blood!"

Strike first, talk later—that was the ancestral law of the Canine Beastfolk. Now that the imperial leash holding them back had snapped by the Emperor's own foolish hand, there was no longer any reason to suppress their primal instincts. Nirka was more than ready to teach those thieving primates an unforgettable lesson.

"Rouse every warrior who knows how to crack a monkey's skull! We move out!!"

"Your Imperial Majesty! Urgent tidings from the borderlands!"

"Ugh... What is it now?!"

The sudden explosion of racial grievances across the provinces had already doubled Emperor Importin’s workload, and the sight of an aide sprinting frantically into the audience chamber made his temple throb violently.

"The Canine Beastfolk and the Simian Beastfolk have—"

"Did I not command that ethnic arbitrations be delegated to the newly recruited civil administrators?! Route all petitions to their desks and stop bothering me!" the Emperor barked, waving a dismissive hand.

The messenger pressed his forehead to the polished marble floor, his voice trembling with terror.

"This is no mere petition, Sire! The Canine Beastfolk... have taken up arms en masse and launched a full-scale invasion of simian territory!"

"...What did you just say?"

"T-They are mobilizing for outright war!"

The words struck the throne room like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.