The Junior (1)
"Heh! Another case closed!"
Inside the carriage bound for the capital, Rhea was practically bouncing in her seat, tossing out little flourishes of delight like someone who'd had a few too many midday drinks and lost all sense of composure.
Irritation prickled up through me, but what was I supposed to do about it?
I'd brought this on myself.
"You settled the fief tax and cleared the grievances of the territory's people with a tax audit. As expected, Special Tax Collector, sir—you're simply the best."
"Ahem. We raised the fief tax by selling off the ornaments and furnishings in the lord's castle, yes—but the Count is dead. I still don't understand why we were ordered to collect a fief tax from a corpse."
"Well… His Majesty the Emperor's commands can't be escaped even in death, can they?"
"Are you saying that seriously?"
"Hehe! Just a figure of speech."
Rhea beamed with pure, unfiltered happiness. I shook my head and let out a long sigh.
No heir in sight. The Imperial Family was clearly looking for a legal way to swallow whatever assets remained.
Can't be escaped even in death, my ass.
The treasury must be in worse shape than I thought.
Granted, the sum had been measured in gold coins, so it wasn't exactly pocket change. But money was relative—and from the Imperial Family's perspective, it was small change. Even the plates and teacups they used day to day started at several dozen gold apiece.
And yet they'd sent us to collect a fief tax from a man who was already dead.
Thanks to that, Richmond Castle had been stripped bare—not a chair left, not even a single fork. Which told me the Imperial finances had reached a genuinely dire state.
At this rate, we could end up at war again.
I folded my arms and stared out the window, sinking into thought.
You might think that without money you couldn't wage a war at all. But war was the last, most extreme card you played to solve an unstable economy—redirect internal discontent outward, conquer territory for resources and cheap labor, and keep the regime standing all at once.
Ugh. I don't even know anymore. I need to resign already and bury myself somewhere quiet where nobody knows my name.
I shoved the tangle of complicated thoughts aside and closed my eyes. Brooding alone wouldn't change a thing anyway.
"Special Tax Collector, sir—I'm sorry to bother you while you're resting, but about that allowance I mentioned last time…"
Rhea, who had been staring a hole through me, finally worked up the nerve to ask, watching my face carefully.
You little…
Ah, forget it. I shouldn't even start.
"I distinctly said I would recommend you for a medal. What? Afraid I'm going to stiff you?"
"Ah—no, sir! Nothing like that. It's just that you have so much on your mind, I worried you might have forgotten."
"Absolutely not. The moment we get back, I'll draft the paperwork and submit it."
"Thank you! I will continue to serve you with absolute loyalty and my whole heart!"
"That won't be necessary."
"But if I receive a medal, does a cash reward come with it?"
"……"
Did I seriously need to set aside a day and call an exorcist?
A money spirit had latched onto her good and proper. If she loved coin that much, she should have become a merchant. Why take a civil service job with its miserable pay?
I clicked my tongue at Rhea's obsession with money.
"It depends on which medal you receive. But I'll try to recommend you for whichever one carries the largest bounty."
"Special Tax Collector, sir—are you an angel sent by the Goddess herself?"
"Senior Secretariat Rhea."
"Yes, sir?!"
"You're being loud. Go to sleep."
"Yes, sir…"
At last I lost my patience and drove the truth straight into her. Only then did Rhea shut her mouth and fall quiet.
Silence settled over the carriage. I savored it and closed my eyes once more.
After wrapping up that thoroughly eventful business trip and returning to the capital, I sank into a profound laziness.
I didn't want to do anything.
No motivation. No appetite.
And of course, no desire to work.
Why? Because every single plan I made had backfired spectacularly.
Fine. I'll just do nothing at all.
So the method I chose was simple: become a salary thief.
I'd briefly considered just not showing up, but one way or another I still needed that paycheck landing on schedule. So I kept to office hours, parked myself at my desk all day, and stared out the window while time crawled past.
"Special Tax Collector, sir—I've compiled the list of the newly selected non-human contractors. Please review it."
"You did the work, and you're competent. I trust you. My seal is right there—stamp it yourself and send it upstairs."
"Ah, Special Tax Collector, sir—there's a new dessert shop that just opened up the street…"
"Open the desk drawer. There's money I set aside for office expenses. Go buy something, eat it, and head home whenever you like."
"Special Tax Collector, sir. Special Tax Collector."
"Handle it however you see fit. You're capable."
I went so far as to hand Rhea my official seal entirely.
Our Rhea. Do whatever you want.
This is actually pretty comfortable in its own way.
After a few days of living like that, being a salary thief didn't seem half bad. Maybe this was the real path to resignation.
I was starting to feel like I'd reached some kind of enlightenment.
—Bang!
"Rohan Blackwood! I heard about Richmond. Hmph! You got lucky. Let's see how long that luck lasts!"
Even when Vice Minister Bern barged in without knocking and dumped his irritation all over me, I simply looked at him with a blank face and gave a single nod.
"Your words are quite right, Vice Minister."
"W-what did you just say?! You—you little—what kind of scheme is this now?!"
"There is no scheme."
"Ha! You think I'll fall for that?!"
"Human life is a fleeting thing, isn't it?"
"……??"
"The weather's lovely. Shall we have a cup of tea?"
"Uh. Well. S-sure, why not?"
Ah. Empty the heart, and happiness arrives like this.
Tea time with Vice Minister Bern. What a beautiful scene.
I'd been far too calculating all this time.
Yes—mountains are mountains, and water is water. Form is not other than emptiness; emptiness is not other than form. Feeling and thought, will and judgment—all of it is just so!
"Special Tax Collector, sir—should I call a healing mage?"
Rhea, unable to watch any longer, started fretting about healing mages and other nonsense with worry written all over her face. I answered with nothing but a light smile and kept staring endlessly out the window.
And it was the same even after Elena finished her temporary lordship and returned to the Ministry of Finance.
"Our Ministry of Finance's treasured Special Tax Collector! The Minister is back! How have you been—huh? What's wrong with you? What happened?"
"M-Minister. Ever since the fief tax incident, I think the Special Tax Collector has fallen ill in spirit…"
"N-no! Then who's going to do the work?! Come back! I was wrong—please, I'm begging you, just come back! At this rate we're going to go bankrupt!"
Elena clung to me, weeping and throwing a tantrum, but I didn't so much as blink.
Yes. This was it! Emptying the mind had been the answer all along!
Inwardly, I was cheering.
"As if things weren't bad enough with the Tax Bureau audit still unfinished! If you check out, who's going to collect the taxes? What do you want? Tell me! Should I marry you? Huh?! Want to get married?"
Hmm. At this point, maybe Elena was the one who needed to see a healing mage…
"Re…"
"Re? Re-what? Say it. I'll give you anything!"
"Resignation."
"……"
"I'm joking."
I'd prodded her just to see what would happen. Elena sucked in a breath of pure disbelief, stared at me like I was a lunatic, then stormed out fuming.
Ahh. That felt incredible.
I should have done this ages ago.
Think. I have to think!
Back in the Minister's office, Elena clutched her head and ground her teeth.
Why was Rohan suddenly acting like this?
Could he actually want to resign?
No. Impossible.
He was always saying he wanted to quit, sure—but that wasn't his true feeling. How could she be so sure? Because for someone who supposedly wanted out, he was far too good at the job.
Rohan worked as if he'd been born to be a civil servant. Of all the officials she had ever known, he was the most competent by a wide margin.
A man like that would never sincerely want to resign.
Rohan only ever shows up with a resignation letter when he wants something.
Yes. It had been the same when he first reported to the Ministry of Finance. He'd thrown a fit about the empty department, insisted he couldn't possibly work under those conditions, and hurled a resignation letter at her.
So she had appointed Rhea as his aide and thrown every resource she could behind everything he did, just so he could throw himself into the work—going so far as to push through the outrageous personnel decision of promoting a new hire straight to 4th Grade Senior Secretariat.
After that, he stopped showing up with resignation letters for a while. And his results had been staggering.
What did that mean?
It meant Rohan wanted something right now.
What is it? What am I missing?
Elena turned the problem over and over. Nothing useful came to mind. Her head throbbed.
As if it weren't bad enough that every department is screaming for more budget. If Rohan keeps this up, the Empire really will go bankrupt.
The war bonds were still piled up like a mountain. Every institution was suffering from a severe budget shortfall. Some agencies had already given up and taken out loans from merchant houses just to stay afloat.
And in the middle of all that, the man who was practically the Ministry of Finance's hero had stopped working?
Then they were all dead together.
In the worst case, we could end up at war again.
Somehow, she had to figure out what Rohan wanted and fix it. But no matter how hard she thought, nothing surfaced.
She was still wrestling with it when a woman's voice spoke from directly behind her.
"Allow me to assist you."
Elena turned. A woman with neatly trimmed reddish-orange bobbed hair was standing there.
She had appeared as if she'd dropped straight out of the sky. She flashed Elena a grin and settled into the chair across from her.
A sharp jawline and proud, gleaming eyes—she was striking. For all the poise her uniform projected, a strangely seductive air clung to her.
"Ah! That's right. Marien—I still have you."
Marien. A currently active Intelligence Bureau agent whose true identity, within the Ministry of Finance, was known only to Minister Elena.
Yes. As a fellow Intelligence Bureau alumna of Rohan's, she would know him well.
Color returned to Elena's face the moment she saw her.
