Disciplinary Committee (3)

"Release the righteous Special Tax Collector at once! Release him!"

"Root out graft and corruption! Punish the crooked tax collectors instead!"

"The Treasury must repent! Repent!"

A throng of people poured in like storm clouds, each voice roaring with fury as they surged toward the Treasury building.

Guards scrambled out in a panic to bar their path, but holding back a crowd of that size was hopelessly beyond them.

"Captain! There are too many of them! Aaagh!"

"Hold the line! Stop them by any means necessary!"

"Damn it, when is the backup supposed to get here?!"

"Stand firm! I said stand firm! Hey! Hey! No weapons! Use your bodies! Bloody hell, this is insane!"

The guards, armed with nothing but shields, managed to form a defensive line at the Treasury entrance—but at this rate, a breach was only a matter of time.

"W-what on earth is this…!"

"Vice Minister, they're swarming the rear gate as well! What are we supposed to do?!"

Disciplinary committee be damned—every department head in the room had abandoned the proceedings to gape out the windows, stamping their feet and clinging to Vice Minister Bern in desperation.

Bern, his face drained bone-white and his mouth working uselessly, finally swung his gaze toward me—and without so much as a word of warning, seized me by the collar.

"You…! What kind of scheme have you pulled this time?!"

Is this lunatic serious? Why is he taking it out on me?

I don't know either. What even is that out there? I'm scared too.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

I knocked Bern's hand away and twisted my face into a scowl.

My mood is already foul enough with ashes dumped all over a perfectly cooked meal—and this idiot has the nerve to grab me by the collar?

Try that one more time. Just once. And you're dead.

Something murderous must have flashed in my eyes, because Bern flinched.

But with so many people watching, he immediately rolled his eyes back and launched into a full-blown tantrum.

"You little bastard, to the bitter end! Do I look like a complete fool to you?!"

"At the moment? Yes."

"Aaaagh!! Aaagh!!"

My reply finally did it. Bern frothed at the mouth, clutched the back of his neck, and crumpled.

To think a man who always played at refinement and composure would end up like this.

As expected—people only show their true colors when they're backed into a corner.

"Restore justice!! The Treasury must repent!"

"Rohan! Rohan! Rohan!"

"We want a fair and righteous tax collector!!"

The protest only grew more heated.

Something had to be done. Yet not a single person gathered here could offer a useful suggestion; they simply eyed one another and waited.

"Rohan, you truly know nothing about this?"

Beside me, Minister Elena had been staring down at the scene with the gravest expression in the world. Now she turned her head toward me and asked.

"Haa. Let me be perfectly clear. I have been inside my office all day today."

I answered her with open irritation, practically grumbling.

The instant the words left my mouth, she pressed in close beside me and, careful that no one else would notice, pointed discreetly with one finger and whispered,

"Then why is she down there?"

I followed the line of Minister Elena's finger—and oh, for heaven's sake. There, mixed in among the crowd with a hood pulled low over her head, screaming her lungs out at the top of her voice, was Rhea.

"You have got to be kidding me…"

A curse slipped out before I could stop it.

Ah. Dear God.

Why did I ever take that girl under my wing? Why did I slap the title of 4th Grade Senior Secretariat on her head?

Repaying kindness with a knife in the back. Is she even in her right mind right now?

No—fine. I'll concede every last point a hundred times over, a thousand times over. Fine.

But does she not understand that a civil servant caught doing something like that gets her head chopped off on the spot?

It wasn't ashes dumped on a finished meal. It was Rhea.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and let out a long, heavy sigh.

Then I nudged Minister Elena in the ribs with my elbow and spoke in a voice that barely crawled out of my throat.

"I genuinely never imagined she would do something like this. As a favor—just this once—could you pretend you didn't see her?"

"Wow. In all my years, I never thought I'd live to hear you ask me for a favor."

"I don't care what happens to me, but that girl is still a rookie. You can't just stand by and let a budding sprout get trampled."

"Well, that's true enough. But do you realize how gentle you're being right now? You could stand to be a little more like that with m—"

"Please shut up. I am this close to biting my own tongue off and dying."

"……."

Elena whipped her head away with a sulky look.

Be that as it may, my skull was still ringing from Rhea's little stunt, and I had no bandwidth left to worry about Elena.

An awkward silence settled between us for a moment.

Then the department heads, with the fire now licking at their own feet, came scurrying over to Elena and started whining.

"Minister, what are we supposed to do about this?!"

"This is treason! Outright rebellion! We must request support from the Imperial Army at once!"

"Are you just going to leave those rioters alone?! At this rate we'll all be killed!!"

Ugh. And these are the people they call department heads.

The Empire's future is looking bright indeed.

You useless clowns—do you not have brains? Do you not understand why the guards are holding them back with shields alone?

It was truly a spectacle.

An enraged crowd is like a wildfire.

No—more precisely, it is a powder keg one spark away from detonation.

The moment someone out there died or was injured, that throng would transform into a full-blown mob in an instant.

Everyone already nursed grievances over taxes; the scale of it would swell beyond control, and that would lead straight into revolution.

So if anyone actually listened to these idiots, the capital would be five minutes from total chaos.

Staging a protest of this size in the heart of the capital—right where the Imperial Palace sits—is already a life-or-death gamble. And they want to throw a gas canister labeled "Imperial Army" onto that enormous blaze? Are they out of their minds?

Fortunately, Elena seemed to share my thinking. She shook her head firmly.

"Which do you think will arrive first—the Imperial Army, or those people forcing their way into the Treasury building? If all of you are so eager to be beaten to death right this instant, then by all means, let's do it your way."

"……!!"

"I told you clearly, didn't I? It's a miracle a rebellion hasn't broken out already. Looking at those furious faces out there—is there still anyone who thinks I can't see the forest for the trees?"

Elena seized the crisis and turned it into an opportunity, bringing the department heads to heel in a single stroke.

But Vice Minister Bern was not about to sit quietly and watch.

"Minister! Law and order must be upheld under any and all circumstances! Everyone has already decided that Rohan Blackwood must be punished—if we reverse that decision as casually as flipping a hand simply because a pack of rioters is running wild, who in the world will ever respect the law again?!"

From his perspective, of course, he could hardly afford to let the fish already thrashing in his net slip free. In a way, it was only natural.

Watching him, I cheered silently inside.

Yes—use that possessed tongue of yours and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slap a disciplinary ruling on me already!

Go, Vice Minister, go! Go, Vice Minister, go!

That's it—I believed in you!

Setting personal feelings aside, not a single word of the Vice Minister's argument was wrong.

Law and order must always be applied as absolute standards, according to principle.

This wasn't a people's tribunal. If you let public opinion sway you without clear criteria, how could you call that law?

A fresh spark of hope flared up inside me. I hurriedly turned my head toward Minister Elena.

"Hmph! A decided matter, you say? I have no recollection of ever striking the gavel."

Whether she could read my heart or not, Minister Elena looked ready to bring the gavel in her hand down on Bern's skull at any second.

Ugh. I'll give her this much—her stubbornness is second to none.

"Surely you aren't airing private grudges in an official setting like a disciplinary committee?"

"Watch your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tongue! Vice Minister—are you saying you refuse to follow the orders of your Minister?!"

"I am merely offering frank counsel…!"

"In what possible way is this frank counsel?! You're the one trying to invent crimes out of thin air just to drive the Special Tax Collector out!"

"That is an outrageous assumption! Did I not already explain? Because of that man, every department's work has ground to a halt—of course he must be held accountable!"

"Ah. So then we should all just go get beaten to death by those people outside? That's fine with you, is it?"

"Minister!!"

"Vice Minister!!"

This was practically a morning soap opera, filmed and wrapped in a single take.

Melodrama this shameless was rare even by daytime standards.

How has the Treasury managed to function at all until now?

As the two of them launched into yet another shouting match, I could only click my tongue.

"Corrupt tax collectors, step down! Punish the hired thugs!"

"The Special Tax Collector is innocent! Release him at once!"

"We can't live like this because of the taxes!! Just kill us already!!"

The voices of the enraged crowd only grew louder, while the Minister and Vice Minister kept right on bickering.

The incompetent department heads simply stood by with their hands folded and watched it all unfold.

Is this what I crawled through hell in the Intelligence Bureau for?

Resignation or no resignation—I felt pathetic for having thrown away my entire youth, risking my life for the Empire.

Stop this nonsense and just accept my resignation letter! Please!

Sick with disgust, I clenched the resignation letter I had been carefully keeping inside my coat.

And then, all at once, the clamor outside fell deathly silent.

The Minister and Vice Minister broke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off their argument. Every gaze in the room turned back toward the windows of its own accord.

Moments later, the entire room collapsed onto the floor in stunned disbelief.

As if Moses himself had parted the sea, the furious crowd had opened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a path down the middle and fallen to their knees in unison, bowing low.

What that meant was unmistakable.

Either the Emperor himself had appeared—or someone bearing the Emperor's personal letter, his imperial missive, had arrived.

Sure enough, in the distance, under the escort of Imperial Knights, a figure was approaching the Treasury building.

On closer look, the scale wasn't quite the Emperor—it was a courier delivering the imperial letter.

—Gulp.

The sound of someone swallowing hard cracked the silence and echoed through the conference room.

That was the signal. Minister, Vice Minister, and everyone else scrambled outside in a frantic rush.

They were racing to receive the courier.

Why would the Emperor suddenly get involved?

A deeply uneasy premonition prickled at me, but for the moment I followed the department heads outside as well.

I wanted to resign, yes—but resigning by having my head cleanly severed from my shoulders was not the method I had in mind.

And of course, uneasy premonitions have a perfect track record of coming true.

The nameless noble who had come as courier completely crushed the tiny spark of hope that had briefly flickered to life inside me.

Fuck…

How did things end up like this?

The Order of Civil Merit. That's a medal civil servants receive when they distinguish themselves through meritorious service.

Why are you giving that to me? Should I just blast the Imperial Palace sky-high with a cannon while I'm at it?

At the Emperor's godforsaken grace, tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them.