A Newbie, You Say?
They sent me a newbie and called her my subordinate.
That could only mean one of two things.
Either the Minister had completely lost her mind, or she held a grudge and was deliberately screwing me over.
Fury surging all the way to the top of my skull, I grabbed my gloves and my resignation letter and stormed straight to the Minister's office.
If she refused to accept the resignation, I was going to throw down the gloves and challenge her to a duel.
But she must have seen this coming.
On Vacation~!
She had hung a ridiculous little sign on the door of the Minister's office and fled.
Vacation? Vacation?
The woman who had been holed up in her office mere hours ago was suddenly on leave?
At her pathetic lie, I clenched my fists until my knuckles went white and ground my teeth.
And to make it even more infuriating—what the hell was that little "~!" tacked on at the end?
This was a clear declaration of war against me.
So this is how you want to play it to the bitter end?
Fine. I had tried to keep things civil, but she was the one who crossed the line. What choice did I have?
Minister, this is the newbie you hired.
Go ahead. Let's see you tough it out with pure spite and grit.
"Hoo. From this moment on, you will answer every question I ask you honestly."
"Yes, sir!"
Rohan Blackwood. The superior she would have to serve from now on.
Rhea swallowed hard and answered in a perfectly rigid stance.
Anyone who can cuss out the Minister like that has to be an absolute monster. Since things have already turned out this way, I might as well make the best impression I can and climb the ladder myself!
Rohan's cold, emotionless gaze made Rhea flinch despite herself—but she steeled her nerves and forced her eyes wide open.
"Top of the written exam, I see. So why did you apply to the Treasury?"
"Yes, sir! Ever since I was little, watching the tax collectors who devoted themselves to the Empire, I came to believe that the Treasury is truly the pillar of the Empire, and…"
"Haa…"
Fortunately, Rohan's question was one she had prepared for. Rhea dug through her memory and recited the answer she had rehearsed.
But before she could even finish, Rohan's face twisted into a scowl and he let out a heavy sigh.
Had she prepared the wrong answer? Or did he simply dislike her for being a commoner?
Her mind went blank. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as her eyes darted frantically left and right.
"I believe I told you to answer honestly."
"Ah…"
At Rohan's follow-up, Rhea finally realized where she had gone wrong.
"I'll ask again. Of all the places you could have chosen, why the Treasury?"
"W-well… because the competition rate was the lowest…"
In the end, facing Rohan's second demand, Rhea spilled the truth that had been sitting in her gut.
And then—of all things—
"Excellent."
"Huh…?"
Rohan suddenly crooked one corner of his mouth into a smirk and nodded in satisfaction.
Why? Which part of that was excellent?
Normally, wouldn't someone get offended and ask if she thought the Treasury looked like an easy mark?
Utterly unable to understand him, Rhea tilted her head.
But only for a moment. As if the smile had never existed, Rohan's face hardened again and he spoke.
"Can you handle magic or a sword at all?"
"Ah. W-well, I came from the Department of Public Administration, so…"
"Even in Public Administration, you can take the basics as electives, can't you?"
"I wasn't particularly interested, and I didn't have much talent for it either."
"I see. So you sat for the civil service exam because you wanted to get ahead."
"Yes. I'm a commoner, and my family was dirt poor…"
"Hmm. You might as well have enlisted in the military. Advancement is faster that way."
"People can actually d-die over there."
"Didn't you just say you would lay down your life for the Empire and the Treasury?"
"……"
Rohan's razor-sharp jab struck her right in the lungs. Rhea's words died in her throat with a choked little sound.
His voice was so cold that every hair on her body stood on end. She couldn't bring herself to lift her head.
Her instincts were screaming that if she looked up right now, she would die.
I-is he even human?
She genuinely wondered whether the man in front of her belonged to the same species.
Not that Rohan cared one bit. He pressed on with his questions, unbothered.
"You can't use magic, you can't handle a sword, you want to get ahead, and you have no intention of risking your life?"
"Yes…"
"Your greed is excessive."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Then, in your own estimation, what are you actually good at?"
Shrinking into herself, Rhea wracked her brains for any answer that might satisfy him—but it was all useless.
In the end, her shoulders sagged and she answered with a sigh.
"Nothing…"
It stung. She knew as well as anyone that people who excelled at the sword and magic sat at the top of the world.
But for a commoner like her, "sword or magic" had never even been an option.
If her family had at least been wealthy, maybe. But when you were scraping by day to day just to eat, how were you supposed to learn the sword or study magic?
The only thing a commoner like her could do was study.
And even that meant picking up books other people had thrown away, because she couldn't afford to buy them.
Even after she lucked into the Academy through the commoner special admission track, nothing changed. There was a support program for students as poor as her, which was a mercy—but the stipend was just enough to keep her from starving, so studying was still all she could do.
Not that she had the luxury of looking anywhere else.
And the one career you could reach by studying and nothing else at the Academy was the civil service.
Rohan hadn't just poked that wound—he had carved it open and shredded it.
Tears welled up hot and sudden.
And right then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Rohan abruptly stood up and began to applaud. Then he said something so shocking she doubted her own ears.
"To think a talent as capable as you would end up as my subordinate. I have no words for how I feel right now. Let's do well together going forward, Secretariat Rhea."
Se-Secretariat?
A newbie like me, a 4th Grade Senior Secretariat?
Most people spent their entire careers struggling just to reach Grade 5.
And I was a 4th Grade Senior Secretariat?
"M-Management Officer, sir. I-I'm a newbie. I'm a Grade 9 Junior Clerk…"
"Why? Don't you want to be a Senior Secretariat?"
"N-no! It's not that—I just wasn't sure if this was really okay…"
"You're the sole aide to a Grade 1 Management Officer who reports directly to the Minister. What good is Grade 9? Grade 4 Senior Secretariat is the bare minimum to make the arrangement look proper."
Rhea, who until moments ago had been staring at Rohan like a woman whose country had just fallen, now stood with her mouth hanging open, stammering incoherently.
"I'll handle everything upstairs myself. You just focus on fulfilling your duties as a 4th Grade Senior Secretariat."
Ah! So it wasn't a dream.
Oh my goodness. What on earth was happening?
This Rohan person—she had thought he was a demon, but he was an angel!
"From this day forward, for the rest of my life! I will devote every ounce of my strength and sincerity to assisting you, Special Tax Collector, sir!"
And so Rhea swore her loyalty to Special Tax Collector Rohan.
A dirt-poor commoner newbie who can't do a single useful thing, promoted straight to 4th Grade Senior Secretariat. Perfect.
After work, on my way home, I gazed at the setting sun and allowed myself a crooked little smile.
The most outrageous personnel appointment in the history of the Empire would have everyone frothing at the mouth—and that was exactly the picture I wanted.
And unless the Emperor himself intervened, I had no intention of reversing this decision.
If anyone came to protest to my face, I would smile politely and ask, "Then would you like to do it?"
Honestly, what sane person would want this job?
I even had a solid justification. As the direct aide to a Grade 1 Management Officer, Grade 4 was the natural minimum. That way she could negotiate with other departments on equal footing in my place.
Just imagining the Minister flipping her eyes back into her skull and throwing a fit already has my heart racing.
And that wasn't all.
What could a fresh Academy graduate possibly know about the actual work? I had jammed a Grade 4 hat onto a greenhorn who had no business wearing one.
She would tear through the Treasury like an eight-ton truck with both the steering and the brakes blown out.
It was like leaving a fish in a cat's care—no. More accurately, it was like putting a missile launch switch in a newborn's hand.
You should have just accepted my resignation nicely when I tried to leave the easy way.
Only one thing remained.
Stick to the original plan: pick out some easy-looking malicious tax delinquent and discreetly botch the job.
Combined with our proud new Senior Secretariat, the synergy would be flawless.
The long-haired Minister would stress herself into a full-on bald spot, no question. Then she would either beg me on her knees to get out, or fire me herself.
Was there a more perfect plan in existence?
I should start looking at houses tomorrow. Somewhere quiet, with a yard.
And so, happily imagining the leisurely retirement life that awaited me, I headed home in excellent spirits.
My pleasant little fantasy didn't even last a full day before it shattered into pieces.
Because when I showed up for work, a congratulatory wreath from the Minister was sitting right outside the office door in all its glory.
Minister of the Treasury
Elena Astoria
Goddamn it. Happy retirement life, my ass.
I was an idiot for staying up all night writing a bucket list of things to do after I quit.
I wasn't in my right mind—but neither was the Minister.
At this point, wouldn't a duel just be cleaner?
But as the saying goes, misfortune never comes alone. This wasn't even the end of it.
Clutching my forehead against the oncoming headache, I stepped into the office—and nearly fell over in shock.
"Good morning, sir! A fine morning to you, Special Tax Collector!"
The office that had been little better than a storage closet, cluttered with junk of every description, was gone. In its place, a space as clean and pleasant as the Minister's own office greeted me—along with Rhea.
"Reporting in! Out of concern for the Tax Collector's health, I have completed the cleaning, and I have finished sorting every document sent over from the Tax Collection Bureau! Please review them!"
To top it off, Rhea held out a stack of approval documents organized so clearly I could grasp them at a glance.
Hey. Didn't you say you couldn't do anything?
Didn't you say you were a newbie?
Ahhh, hell. We're screwed.