Fabricated Debt (6)
"According to the rumors, sometime yesterday morning an anonymous tip was delivered to the Imperial Palace. And that tip turned out to be the double ledgers of the nobles who'd been colluding with the loan sharks to evade taxes…"
At Rhea's report — a bolt from the blue if ever there was one — I squeezed my eyes shut.
Don't tell me those half-witted bastards stashed their ledgers in the same hideout as the money?
Or had the Intelligence Bureau infiltrated the nobles' and loan sharks' residences and dug the books up themselves?
I didn't know the details, but the moment those double ledgers surfaced, the game was as good as over.
"Everyone seems to have figured out that yesterday's anonymous massive donation was money skimmed off through the fabricated debts. They're just pretending not to notice and keeping quiet about it."
"Orders from above to keep their mouths shut, most likely. That way they can squeeze even more out of the tax-evading nobles named in those ledgers."
"I think that's highly probable as well."
"What's the overall mood right now?"
"For the moment, both the nobles and the loan sharks are stubbornly denying every charge. There are also people who genuinely needed money and borrowed from the sharks, so a full-scale tax audit is being prepared to sort it all out."
Damn it. I'd thought sweeping up all the money would solve everything.
Apparently I'd been thinking far too one-dimensionally.
If only the Intelligence Bureau hadn't been a variable…
I'd laid the whole board out perfectly, and the Bureau had decided this was the perfect moment to stick their spoon in the pot.
I'd cooked the porridge only to feed it to a dog.
Now that the ledgers have been found, the nobles who should have been tearing into Elena and the Treasury will keep their mouths shut and scramble to save their own skins.
For the Imperial Family, it was the best of both worlds — money in hand and the knife's handle firmly in their grip.
The way Elena was currently losing her mind over erecting a statue of me was, in that light, almost inevitable.
Just try putting one up. I'll bring the entire Treasury building down around it.
I pressed a hand to my throbbing forehead and let out one long, endless sigh after another.
"Um, Special Tax Collector, sir? There's something else I need to tell you. A-are you all right?"
Rhea, who had been watching my face carefully, asked the question with extreme caution.
What now?
"It's just… this morning a notice arrived from the Intelligence Bureau telling us to take special care with our personal safety."
"What?"
The flash of irritation lasted only a second. The next words out of Rhea's mouth made me suck in a sharp breath and snap my eyes wide open.
"Ah. Well, given that the people involved in this incident aren't exactly few in number…"
"So people driven into a corner might try to take it out on Treasury staff?"
"Yes. As you know, when money is involved, no one is more vicious than loan sharks."
"Unbelievable."
"There's a rumor going around that the Treasury and the Imperial Army teamed up to clean out the loan sharks. Which, well… is true."
Rhea smacked her lips and shot me a sidelong glance. There was a distinct note of wounded feeling in her voice.
Tsk. She knows full well and she's still dancing around it.
She clearly wasn't thrilled that I'd left her out of this whole operation.
But what was I supposed to do?
If this had been an official procedure, maybe. Strictly speaking, it had been plain theft — and if I'd dragged Rhea into something that dangerous and anything had happened to her, who exactly was supposed to take responsibility?
I understood how she felt. That didn't make me wrong.
Anyway, that's not what matters right now.
I deliberately ignored Rhea's sulking face and sank into thought.
No point arguing over spilled water. Nothing changes.
Whatever way you sliced it, clinging to what was already done got you nowhere.
What I needed to worry about was what came next.
Because the Intelligence Bureau did not send "watch your back" notices for no reason.
I was going to use some free time to chew out those junior agents. Looks like that'll have to wait.
Right now — with the Treasury riding high on a massive success — was the most dangerous moment of all.
And with a full-scale tax audit on the horizon, it was even worse.
People backed to the edge of a cliff with death staring them in the face would try anything.
And if they moved, the highest-priority targets would almost certainly be Rhea and me.
I'll be fine. But Rhea…
Having reached a decision, I looked at Rhea, who was still standing blankly in front of me, and spoke again.
"Senior Secretariat Rhea. Come to think of it, you haven't had a single proper day off since your reassignment, have you?"
A tavern tucked into a deserted back alley of the capital.
As the sun began to sink, figures cloaked head to toe in robes filed one after another through the door. As if by prior arrangement, they went straight to the table in the center and took their seats without a word.
A few more arrived. And the moment every prepared chair was filled, they all threw back their hoods at once.
"Can't we change the venue? Why do we always have to meet in a place like this…"
The youngest-looking man among them grumbled with open dissatisfaction. Across the table, an old man stroking his beard twisted his face into a scowl.
"Now, now, Viscount Ferrington. Maintain your dignity. Just because the place is filthy doesn't mean we have to become filthy ourselves, does it?"
"I-I apologize. I spoke without thinking…"
"I'm well aware that this sudden turn of events has put everyone here through a difficult time — Viscount Ferrington included. I'm in the same boat. But it is precisely at times like these that we, as nobles, must hold all the more firmly to our dignity."
"Count Bran is right. I offer my apologies to everyone present for my careless words."
Viscount Ferrington bowed his head in formal contrition. The others waved it off with weary sighs.
"It happens. We understand completely."
"If I could, I'd go somewhere right now and just scream my lungs out."
"Honestly. How in the world did they even get their hands on the ledgers…"
Indeed. Everyone gathered here was a noble whose money — and ledgers — had been cleaned out the night before.
"We never should have trusted those money-grubbing merchants in the first place."
"Exactly. All that bluster about trusting them, and look where it got us."
"Hideout, my frozen ass. If I'd known it would come to this, burying the lot in a hole in my manor garden would have been far safer."
"Oh? That's actually not a bad idea. Why didn't I think of that sooner?"
"……"
In the middle of their mutual grumbling, Viscount Ferrington's stroke of "brilliance" made everyone suck in a breath. An awkward silence settled over the table.
Count Bran was the first to recover. He cleared his throat with forced dignity and reclaimed the floor.
"Ahem! That is hardly the point right now. We can hold the loan sharks accountable later without any trouble. But if the Treasury launches a tax audit as early as tomorrow, every last one of us is finished."
"……"
"Is there any reason to make enemies of the loan sharks in a situation like this? What if they throw in with the Treasury? Then we'd be looking at a catastrophe we couldn't reverse."
At Count Bran's words, everyone nodded with grim faces.
Like it or not, they were in the same boat as the loan sharks. Unpleasant as it was to admit, the people in this room and those sharks held each other's lifelines — rank be damned.
"Forgive the interruption, Count, but how do you believe we should overcome this situation?"
In the heavy atmosphere, Viscount Ferrington raised a hand and put the question to Count Bran.
"The Minister of the Treasury is the daughter of Marquis Astoria — a house that commands the respect of countless nobles. There's nothing we can do against her, is there?"
"It's true that the Astoria marquisate is best left alone whenever possible."
"Tax audits are the Treasury's exclusive authority. Pressuring other departments would be pointless. So what exactly are we supposed to do?"
"Hmm. It's not as though there are no options at all."
As Viscount Ferrington pounded his chest in frustration and poured out his grievances, Count Bran let his gaze go cold and swept the table once. Everyone swallowed dryly and fixed their eyes on him.
"If we can't touch Elena Astoria, then we go after the ones who serve as her hands and feet."
"Her hands and feet…"
"This is only a rumor, of course — but some say he was the one who orchestrated this entire affair."
"Th-that's…!"
"He's nothing but a bastard-born nobody with a hollow noble title. If we have the loan sharks make an example of him and a few others, we can delay the tax audit."
"Ohh! Wh-who is he?!"
The longer the audit was postponed, the more time they would have to bury and fabricate evidence. And if the Minister's closest aides died in the process, who in their right mind would volunteer to join the investigation?
To these desperate men, Count Bran's solution was rain after a long drought. Extreme, yes — but what choice did they have? And if trouble arose later, they could simply cut the loan sharks loose and claim it was all their doing.
Nobles who had thought it was over now swelled with anticipation they could barely contain.
"First-Grade Management Officer of the Treasury, Special Tax Collector Rohan Blackwood. Currently known as the most capable and righteous tax collector around."
Count Bran wore a thin, crooked smile as he finally spoke the name they had all been waiting for.
"We must kill him. No matter what."