This Place Is an Excellent Source of Civil Servants - 3
I managed to avoid the catastrophe of the student council president being reduced to "Radiant President Fragments × 8" by the enraged secretary. Collecting fragments is work enough as it is, so that was a relief.
"Siri Darred, correct?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"Written properly. Take it."
"Thank you!"
That booming voice, like a private standing before a division commander, left me feeling thoroughly satisfied. If someone this full of passion joined the Ministry of Finance, my future would be a good deal easier. The Audit Department would be even better.
The way the secretary bowed her head and accepted the card with both hands looked happy to anyone watching. The shoulders that had been trembling with rage had begun trembling for an entirely different reason. As the second daughter of a viscount with that awkward standing, she had probably never received a recommendation letter from anyone before.
This is what a proper newcomer looks like.
The way she sincerely delighted in even a small opportunity. You absolutely have to grow up normally. If a fresh recruit like this dark-evolved into something like the Section Chief 1, 2, and 3 trio, it would be genuinely tragic.
"I've seen the student council's efforts and abilities up close, so I know them well. I've wanted to give out recommendation letters for a while now. Glad to see they seem to have struck a chord."
"It's an honor! I will never forget this kindness!"
Kindness? I'm the one who should be grateful.
"I asked the president to keep it a secret, so don't feel too left out."
When I said that while giving the president beside me a clap on the shoulder, the secretary nodded vigorously. That should prevent any potential round two.
The president had run her mouth a little too flashily, but even so, you can't just pass up a perfect chance to teabag someone, right? I understand. Back when I was the president's age, I was just like—
Shit.
The horrifying thought that rose so naturally made me bite my lip. We're only two years apart. What am I even saying? I'm still young myself.
My mind is aging faster than my actual age. Pull yourself together. I cannot become a young fogey.
"These are recommendation letters for the other officers."
Suppressing the wretched feeling, I handed four cards to the president. I had already given one to the secretary. If delivery to the other officers dragged on, they might start thinking they had been passed over.
These were talents who would serve the Empire for decades to come. I couldn't let some petty slight wound their hearts. I trusted the president to handle it before the day was out.
"I'll make sure they reach the right people."
"Good."
Even if the president forgot, the secretary had seen everything, so there was no real worry. Besides, these weren't the sort of things you could just pocket and run off with. They would find their rightful owners.
And so, escorted out by the president, the secretary, and Margeta—who had somehow already emerged from the vice president's office—I left the student council room.
Quiet.
And the moment I stepped out, the secretary did not seize the president by the collar. Thank goodness. If a couple of prospective civil servants injured each other in a fight, that would be a loss for the nation. Your bodies no longer belong to you. They belong to the state.
On the way back to the clubroom, I pulled out a communication crystal in a suitably deserted spot.
"A partnership?"
"In grander terms, yes."
Important ideas needed to be handled quickly before they slipped away.
Of course, there was no real need to do this outdoors when I could have handled it in the clubroom. But after scattering recommendation letters among the current student council and hearing Margeta declare she would firmly raise next year's council, I simply could not sit still.
When raw gems are rolling around on the ground, you need professionals to collect them. Picking them up alone is inefficient. And if that inefficiency means failing to secure prospective slaves—no, prospective civil servants—how bitterly unfair would that be?
So I proposed to the Minister that we create a system linking the Academy and the student council so that members would automatically advance into official posts.
"The student council already wants to enter government service, and more newcomers would be good for us as well, wouldn't they?"
"That's true enough."
Despite the words, the Minister's expression was lukewarm. The face of a man who thought everything was running fine as it was and saw no reason to poke at it.
Even that fiery gentleman had turned into a pure paper-pusher after two years behind a desk. He wouldn't touch anything that didn't absolutely have to be done. Where had the fiery section chief who used to plant his fist in my jaw gone?
"These kids have been racing toward bureaucracy. Is there any real need for them to sit the exams?"
Still, I needed the Minister's approval, so I pressed on. We already lived in a world where a recommendation letter alone could make a complete unknown into a civil servant. Would giving free passes to kids who had ground through three years of student council work—hardly no experience—really be a problem?
"They're going to become bureaucrats even if we leave them alone. No need to create a whole new system for it."
There's no problem, but there is annoyance. He hadn't said the words out loud, yet his face said them perfectly.
It certainly wasn't simple. Anything involving the Academy would drag in the Ministry of Education, and a regular intake of newcomers would need proper documentation. Doable, but a pure pain.
Leaving the exams as the path into the bureaucracy meant the existing system was enough. And if you really wanted to skip the exams, you could just hand out recommendation letters yourself the way I did.
But that wouldn't do. With that slapdash approach you would miss the raw gems—
"Hey."
"Yes?"
Just as I was about to rev my mouth up again, the Minister spoke first.
"How many left?"
The casual question left me momentarily speechless. Damn it, asking that at this exact moment.
"...About seventy remaining."
"Ha."
After opening and closing my mouth a few times, I finally managed an answer, and I heard the Minister's snort of laughter.
"Don't tell me you still believe that?"
"Why bring that up all of a sudden?"
I hated him. I hated the man for dragging up the subject I had been carefully not thinking about.
My hands and feet trembled, but there was nothing I could do across a communication crystal.
"Sometimes I can't tell whether you're short on brains or just pure-minded."
"Call it overflowing integrity, please."
And damn it, "short on brains" and "pure-minded" were the same thing.
Hell.
I let out a sigh and raked my hair back irritably.
I knew. I knew I was clinging to something meaningless, something that could never be trusted.
"Leaving capable talent idle is a crime against the Empire. If you bring me enough people to replace the Audit Department Chief... say, a hundred or so, then I could consider it."
Those were the words the Crown Prince had spoken to me on the day I had gone mad, bypassed the Minister, and fired a resignation letter straight at him.
He had laughed at the resignation letter and offered me a deal. No—to be honest, it wasn't a deal so much as pure teasing. Even if I actually brought a hundred people, the Crown Prince was the sort who would simply change the terms: "The Audit Department Chief can be replaced by two hundred, not one hundred."
I knew perfectly well. What I had been told was no better than the empty promise a parent makes to a child throwing a tantrum for a toy—"Behave this year and I'll buy it for you." But a desperate, pathetic man will cling to anything. I was no different...
"And in the middle of all that, how did you manage to find thirty?"
"All from the Academy. The Academy really is something else."
Since the Minister had already seen through me, I decided to go all in. Besides the student council, I had made a nice haul during the practical exams last time.
Yes, this partnership proposal was packed full of personal motives. I had planned to automatically scoop up the prospective civil servants at the Academy and fill out my hundred. Was that wrong? Was I only doing it for myself? It was a method that made everyone happy.
The student council gets to become civil servants without heartache—good. My subordinates fill up quickly and my retirement draws nearer—good. The Crown Prince gets new slaves—good. What's not to like?
Unfortunately, the Minister did not seem to be included among "everyone."
"I'll consider it, so sit tight."
"I'll consider it" was just another way of saying "shut up, you're being noisy."
"Understood."
But what choice did I have? If the man who had to stamp the approval was immovable, there was nothing to be done.
I would just have to keep writing the recommendation letters myself. I would still hit a hundred before graduation.
The call with the Minister dragged on until club time had already begun. In truth, more than half of it had probably been me making an undignified spectacle of myself pleading.
Still, it was a stingy business. After everything I had done for the Ministry of Finance and the Empire, he couldn't even grant one little request?
Just wasted time.
The club members would already be gathered by now. Surely they hadn't caused any trouble in the meantime? If they had pulled some nonsense under the excuse of celebrating the start of the second semester, I might actually break down and sob from pure sorrow.
Back in the capital I had Margeta, the butler, and Section Chief 4, so I could step away for a moment without worry. Those good days were gone.
Good days?
Come to think of it, that was strange. If having the club members with me in the capital counted as "good days," just how rock-bottom was my working environment?
I gave my head a little shake and brushed the thought away. No point taking the red pill and reaching the truth if it only made me more miserable.
...Though something miserable already seemed to be waiting.
What is it this time?
The closer I got to the clubroom, the louder the unidentified noise grew. An ominous sign that something had blown up.
My feet picked up speed on their own. If those kids had raised their voices in an argument, it could escalate straight into a diplomatic incident.
"Oh, Advisor! You've arrived!"
But when I opened the door, Ryutis greeted me holding a teacup.
"Unusual for you to be late."
"Had something to take care of for a moment."
A quick sweep of the clubroom showed my fears were unfounded. They had simply laid out tea and snacks and were laughing and chatting among themselves as usual.
Giving people a scare for nothing.
I felt ridiculous for having bolted over in a private panic.
"Ah, we just ate the snacks that were already in the clubroom. No time to make fresh ones."
"That's fine. They're there to be eaten."
Probably leftovers from treating Villar and Perosa. They would only go stale with time anyway, so it didn't matter.
"Haha, thank you. We all got rejected by Luise at the same time, so there really wasn't a moment to bake anything."
...?
What kind of commemoration?
With those words, Ryutis shrugged and turned his gaze to one side. At the end of that gaze was Luise, her face flushed red, eyes darting every which way.
What?
What on earth had happened?