Work Guaranteed - 3
The Right Censor-in-chief, who had said he just needed to lie down for a bit, ended up one with the floor for over half a shichen. Even he, who had boldly claimed he'd be fine, and I, who had cautiously laid him down, were both embarrassed, letting an awkward silence hang in the air.
It was a pretty bizarre first meeting for a department head and his deputy.
"This tantrum's lasting longer than usual. Happens every now and then."
"Ah, yes. Seems like it."
I reflexively agreed with the Right Censor-in-chief's words. Honestly, I couldn't really relate, but he'd broken the ice first, so I had to play along to liven things up.
"Right Deputy Censor-in-chief. Mind if I get back to it?"
With that, the scrolls hovering motionless in place started moving again.
Scrolls flying right up to the Right Censor-in-chief's face. He scanned them at lightning speed, flipping through one after another. Finish one, and a new one flew in.
What the hell is this?
It was still astonishing on second viewing. No—seeing it up close made it even more mind-blowing. It felt like watching a factory assembly line churning out products en masse. Perfectly rhythmic, lightning-fast, without a single hitch.
The Right Censor-in-chief looked less like a man and more like a scroll-processing machine. And he was doing it lying down, not even sitting in a chair. Everyone else was living in the 14th century, but this guy was straight out of the 24th.
"Heh, impressive, huh?"
My stare must've been too obvious. He let out a small chuckle amid the repetitive reading and spoke up.
Of course it was impressive. A non-martial artist using telekinesis on thin air—and for paperwork, no less.
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would've believed it. Truly a rare experience. Who could've guessed Your Excellency could pull off feats reserved for the highest masters?"
But asking your direct superior, "You look like a weakling—how'd you do that?" would be rude. Even if it was true, blunt honesty wasn't polite. So I softened it as much as possible.
How the hell did you do that?
"Martial artists always react the same. They get more shocked than civilians after seeing my little trick."
I was speechless at "little trick." Since when was telekinesis a "little" anything?
That aside, I got why martial artists were more stunned than civilians. To ordinary folk, it was just "wow, martial artists can do cool stuff." But we knew exactly how insane telekinesis was. Knowledge makes it hit harder.
"I kept quiet to enjoy the reactions, but since you'll be working with me long-term, Right Deputy, I'll let you in on it."
"I'm all ears."
"It's not martial arts—it's Taoist sorcery. Not a warrior's skill, but a Taoist's."
Ah.
Taoist sorcery clicked immediately. It looked like telekinesis, but was something else entirely. No wonder.
That explains the weird vibe.
The telekinesis impact was so strong I'd overlooked the obvious: sorcery. In the Central Plains, nine times out of ten, weird shit meant Taoism.
"Are you a Taoist priest, sir?"
"Just picked it up for fun in my youth. 'Sorcerer' fits better than some lofty title."
With that, the Right Censor-in-chief grunted and propped up his upper body.
"Hiding the sorcerer bit gets all kinds of reactions. 'A peak realm master hiding his aura perfectly,' or 'His Majesty's secret thirteenth Hwagyeong expert.' People's imaginations are wild."
Seeing him nod contentedly, I felt a mix of emotions. I'd briefly suspected concealment arts myself, but more importantly, I'd pegged him as a weirdo like the Left Censor-in-chief.
At least he wasn't a bad guy—just quirky. The type who loved pranks.
"You seem far too skilled for 'sorcerer.' I've only seen this one spell of yours, but one glimpse tells the whole story."
I swallowed my unease and tossed out a habitual compliment. Like he said, we'd be together a while. And it wasn't empty flattery—the room had dozens of floating scrolls zipping around at high speed. That proficiency wasn't amateur hour.
"Started as a hobby, but my passion was real. Got scammed learning it young."
"Pardon?"
"Heard you could make clones at the peak... but not what I expected."
Sighing like it still pissed him off, he muttered something, then said,
"Here, watch."
"Whoa."
A perfect duplicate of the Right Censor-in-chief popped up beside him. A cloned human.
Indistinguishable from twins—identical down to the tiniest detail.
"No need to freak. It's intangible—no touching me or anything else."
I'd thought clones meant multitasking. Nope, his gripe echoed, but I barely heard it. A clone right there—who cared about intangibility?
How is this 'sorcerer' level? That's peak Taoist mastery.
We just exchanged greetings, but he held me for over an shichen. No regrets, though. Now I knew Dochalwon had Hwagyeong masters from both martial and Taoist worlds.
How had this guy stayed under the radar?
Probably just used it for work.
A hollow laugh escaped me. Stuck in his office, using sorcery only for paperwork—no wonder folks didn't know he was a top-tier Taoist.
Even I, in the same department, had just found out.
"Your Excellency."
"Left Assistant Censor-in-chief?"
Shuffling along, I ran into the Left Assistant.
"Stayed longer than expected. Looks like the Right Censor-in-chief took a shine to you, Right Deputy."
"Did I keep you waiting? My apologies—I meant to just say hello and..."
"Haha, no apologies needed. I headed over when I heard you'd just left."
Waving it off, he chuckled and patted my shoulder.
"He's a real character, right?"
"I'm embarrassed I didn't know sooner."
"I get it. Same here at first."
His eyes held a subtle camaraderie, making me chuckle this time. Good—I wasn't the only blind, deaf fool in Dochalwon. The Right Censor-in-chief had just kept his sorcery strictly on-the-job.
"As you've seen, he's one of a kind. But his sorcery mastery is deep, he processes work lightning-fast, and he's close with the Left Censor-in-chief personally. Solid backing."
"Personally close?"
That caught me off guard—had to ask.
The Left was cool and aloof; the Right felt a bit... off-kilter. Professional ties, sure, but personal? Opposites attract?
"Heard who taught him sorcery?"
"No. Just that he got scammed."
"The Left Censor-in-chief's father."
My mouth snapped shut. The Left's father—Yoo Gi, one of Daesong's founding merits, Zhuge Liang to Zhu Yuanzhang in original history.
That guy called him a scammer?
They must be tighter than I thought. Calling a founding hero a con man?
Entering my assigned office, a hefty stack of scrolls greeted me. Exactly as expected.
The Deputy Censor-in-chief oversaw nationwide inspections. Light workload would've been suspicious—either my subordinates ghosting the new young boss, or local reports not reaching the capital.
These are pre-filtered.
Processed by field inspectors and Dochalwon staff under me. Unlike as Left Vice, I didn't have to handle everything solo.
... Still a lot.
Short-lived mental victory over; reality hit. Positive spin or not, piles didn't shrink. Normal volume, better than before—didn't make it less daunting.
What could I do? Paperwork in Dochalwon vs. rolling in the dirt provincially? Office wins.
Now I get it.
Suddenly understood why the Right Censor-in-chief haunted Dochalwon like a ghost. Blithely processing work—why no clocking out? Simple: endless tasks.
Grabbing the top scroll, I sighed inwardly. Time to start the first job—
[Martial forces held by sects and clans: Scale impossible to measure precisely.]
[First-rate and above can be tracked, but second-rate and below can't be fully controlled even by sects/clans. Third-rates often drop out mid-training or newly join to learn arts. In extreme cases, measurements differ every half shichen.]
[Second-rates can handle basic roles, so they scatter. Many shift overnight from Group A to B. Even merit sects don't block second-rates' voluntary departures or independents.]
I quietly set down the scroll and closed my eyes.
Seems like I'd failed right from the start.