The Disciplinary Committee (1)
Geniuses possess the extraordinary. Dullards possess desperation.
In this world where magic exists, a genius's gifts find ample chance to shine—but a dullard's desperation rarely does.
No matter how hard one strives, those born without talent face a hard ceiling. And if one's station and class are low, that ceiling sits even lower still.
Reincarnated as the bastard son of a minor, undistinguished viscount house, I counted myself among the dullards.
Still, I was a noble of sorts. I'd hoped to while away my days in carefree ease.
But nothing was permitted to a concubine's child. I was a noble in name only.
In the end, I had no choice but to carve out a life for myself. It was the only way to survive this godforsaken place.
Fortunately, thanks to the memories of my previous life, my theoretical grasp of magic—or anything else I studied—was flawless. But my body couldn't keep up, and in practice I always hit a wall.
If I'd been a complete ignoramus, I might never have known what I was missing. Knowing and still being unable—it drove me out of my mind.
It was maddening. All I'd wanted was a peaceful, unhurried life. But as a bastard with no innate talent, no amount of cleverness could save me.
I was anxious. Restless. As time passed and I poured more effort in, the desperation inside me only deepened.
And there was something that sought to exploit that desperation.
A demon.
I am the Demon of Greed. I pursue. I yearn. For everything that exists in this world. Your knowledge and your desperation have drawn me here.
My freshman year at the Academy. One day, out of nowhere, a crow flew up to my dormitory window. Without preamble it declared itself a demon and launched into a cloud of nonsense.
You possess knowledge from elsewhere. I want it. I hunger for knowledge. You are desperate. You need power. I can give you power. Contract with me.
And just like that, with no further explanation, it demanded a contract.
I figured someone was playing a prank and brushed it off. But this insane demon hounded me for months on end.
Knowledge. Just share your knowledge. I ask for nothing else. Knowledge. Give me knowledge.
The thing was completely unhinged. What kind of demon in this world begs and pleads for a contract like that? It was as if the power dynamic had been flipped entirely.
In the end, I reluctantly made a contract with it. I had my misgivings, but when something shows up every night to torment you, what choice do you have?
That decision, however, changed my entire life.
True to the name of Greed, the thing swallowed up people, magic—pretty much anything it could get its hands on. At first I wondered if it wasn't Gluttony rather than Greed. But according to it, the two were similar yet distinctly different, and it was deeply offended by the comparison.
Gluttony simply eats. It's stupid. Gluttony only fills its belly. But I am different. I absorb. I remember. I store.
Honestly, it seemed like the same thing to me—but if that's what it claimed, fine.
Anyway, after contracting with the thing, I scored a conspicuous victory in a sparring match against Elena, caught the Intelligence Bureau's eye, and received a recruitment offer. And thanks to this creature, I'd managed to survive as the Bureau's ace.
Being a demon wasn't really a problem. It was more like a spirit or a familiar, if anything. All it truly wanted were the memories of my previous life. All I had to do was share them.
There was just one drawback, though…
Whenever the thing finished its work, a bone-chilling sound would ring in my ears—like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard.
Crunch. Crunch.
At that relentless, unpleasant noise, I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back in my chair.
Do demons age? It felt like the chewing was taking longer with each passing day.
So the bounty hunters were collecting a poll tax of one silver penny a head…
Once the demon finished its meal and fell quiet, my headache eased a little. I opened my eyes again, gazed out the window, and let out a sigh.
They were already gouging fellow humans for ten times the proper tax. How much worse must it have been for the non-human races? They'd clearly used headcount as an excuse to squeeze even more out of them. No wonder the non-humans had laughed with delight when I quoted twelve copper pennies per person.
Those lunatics. Acting like they were Jesus or something—performing the miracle of turning ten copper into one silver.
This world was well and truly insane.
Given how terrible the reputation of tax collectors already was, I'd expected some problems. But nothing on this scale. If a rebellion ever broke out in the Empire, taxes would surely be the cause.
Even the capital, under the Emperor's direct rule, is in this state. The provincial territories governed by local lords must be even worse.
I'd heard various rumors about taxes over the years, but seeing it with my own eyes left me speechless.
Haa. No wonder tax collectors have a reputation lower than dirt.
Suddenly I recalled the look of pure terror on the face of a girl named Amy when I'd visited the Traveler's Basket undercover. At least Intelligence Bureau agents, for all that people feared them, were praised as those who sacrificed for the Empire. Tax collectors seemed to be treated like common street thugs and third-rate hoodlums. No honor, no glory—little better than predatory loan sharks preying on the poor.
I'm quitting. Absolutely!
I immediately opened my desk drawer and pulled out every resignation letter I'd been drafting in spare moments.
Yes. Perhaps this was the perfect timing to resign. Not only had Elena taken medical leave and vacated her post, but I'd handed the entire Tax Collection Bureau over to the Inspectorate, making enemies of everyone in the Ministry of Finance. No matter how much Elena tried to protect me, if the entire staff rose up as one, even she would be powerless.
There's also the chance I get transferred to some other godforsaken department, so resigning and retiring right here is the best move.
Having sorted my thoughts, I gathered the resignation letters and stepped out of the office. The Vice Minister should be back from the Imperial Palace by now. I'd barge into his office and dump every last one of these resignation letters on him.
I walked down the corridor, casting a glance over the empty, ransacked Tax Collection Bureau. A smile tugged at my lips as I made my light-footed way toward the Vice Minister's office.
"So you're saying you wish to resign?"
"That is correct."
Vice Minister Bern, who looked ready to tear me apart with his bare hands, snorted as he eyed the resignation letter I'd held out.
"Are you joking with me?"
Had the man eaten something foul at the Palace? I'd assumed Vice Minister Bern would gladly accept my resignation. Instead, he drew a sharp, incredulous breath and ripped the letter right in front of me.
"You ignored every procedure and process, turned the Tax Collection Bureau into a wasteland with your internal whistleblowing—and now you want to irresponsibly resign? Do you honestly think that makes sense?"
"I intend to take responsibility by resigning."
"Cut the crap! That's not responsibility—that's a cowardly escape!"
Vice Minister Bern shot up from his seat and erupted in fury.
"Do you even understand what you've done? Do you have any idea how catastrophic it is for the treasury if the Tax Collection Bureau stops functioning for even a single day?!"
"I merely excised the rotten flesh."
"Have you no flexibility whatsoever? And why should you be the one to cut it out?! At the very least, you should have reported to me or the Minister before filing a complaint with the Inspectorate!"
"Both of you were away from your posts. What exactly was I supposed to do? I handled it under the authority of the acting director. Call it act first, report later."
"You little—!"
I casually stepped on the shredded resignation letter scattered across the floor and pulled out the entire bundle of letters I'd prepared. Vice Minister Bern ground his teeth, his whole body trembling.
"You will never resign on your own terms! For the crime of looking down on the Ministry of Finance and running wild as you please! Once you've borne that crime and paid a fitting price, I shall personally cast you out!"
"Did you take bribes too, Vice Minister—just like Director Theodore?"
"W-What did you say?!"
"You seem rather emotional for someone talking about a 'fitting price.'"
"Y-You—!!"
"Isn't resignation the harshest punishment for people like us? What? Are you short on justification?"
For a moment, Vice Minister Bern flinched, his eyes going wide. It seemed he, too, had some connection to Theodore. But I couldn't pin him down on mere suspicion alone. And since my goal was resignation and nothing more, I didn't press him further. The more internal enemies I had, the better for me.
Whether or not he sensed my true intentions, Vice Minister Bern glared at me for a long while, veins standing out in his eyes. Then he hurled the bundle of resignation letters to the floor and bellowed.
"By the authority of the Vice Minister, acting in the Minister's stead, I hereby suspend the Special Tax Collector from duty! From this moment, you are no longer the Special Tax Collector—you are a defendant brought before the Disciplinary Committee!"
Ah. The Disciplinary Committee. Well, there wasn't really any other legal avenue.
The Disciplinary Committee, huh. Not bad.
At worst, they'd dock my pay or suspend me. Actually, that might work out just fine. If I were removed from duty, someone else would take over as Special Tax Collector. And then there'd naturally be no place left for me in the Ministry of Finance. I'd take a few months off, read the room, then submit my resignation—and Elena would have no choice but to let me go.
"The honor you've built as an Intelligence Bureau agent! Your career! Your glory! I will smash it all to pieces! You'll be driven from the Ministry of Finance with nothing—a penniless wreck!"
Vice Minister Bern foamed at the mouth, seething as I headed for the door. But I left his office with a light heart.
Honor? Career? Glory? Nonsense. None of that mattered. As long as I could somehow protect my severance pay and pension, that was enough. Those two things were precisely why I'd stayed within bounds all this time—and the whole reason I'd become a civil servant in the first place.
And it wasn't as if I'd committed some grave felony. No matter how hard Vice Minister Bern came after me with bloodshot eyes, he wouldn't be able to touch my severance or my pension.
Anything else I can live with—but not the severance and the pension.
I silently cheered, shoulders bouncing with glee.
Ah. Tonight felt like it would be a good night for dreaming. Sleep was already creeping in.