I'm a Civil Servant
It was about five years ago.
"Who are you?"
"Kyaaaaaaah! Young masteeeeer!"
"A doctor—get the doctor back here at once!"
"Young master, are you all right? Can you see how many fingers I'm holding up?"
Waking up in a room I'd never seen before was the first shock. Being surrounded by strangers staring down at me was the second. And the moment I asked who they were, the sheer theatrical panic that erupted was the third. In the space of five seconds, three successive blows wrapped around me in spectacular fashion—and that was the very first memory of my life after possession.
Even now, thinking back, my eardrums still seem to ring with the noise. In hindsight I almost feel a little sorry for them. When the eldest son of a great house topples from his horse, wakes up, and immediately says something that sounds like amnesia, of course everyone loses their minds. If I'd staggered around even a little longer, a few servants and maids would have lost their heads for it.
"You're truly all right...?"
"I already said I am. Just got dizzy for a second."
Fortunately the original owner's memories came flooding back in a rush. I managed to pass the whole thing off as a minor episode and shoo everyone out of the room. Whether that was the original owner's lingering wish to protect the servants who attended him, or some scrap of mercy from whoever dumped me here, I still don't know.
Probably not the latter. Anyone with that kind of mercy wouldn't have dumped me here in the first place.
"Why me...?"
Regression, possession, reincarnation—the holy trinity of isekai. Once upon a time they were fresh. These days it's harder to find a novel that doesn't use at least one of them. And of the three, I got stuck with possession. Woohoo. What a thrill.
The real problem was that I had no idea why I'd been chosen to fill one of the three great seats. I hadn't doggedly followed some obscure novel all the way to the end. I hadn't dropped a five-thousand-seven-hundred-character rant on the author for derailing the plot. My monitor hadn't suddenly blazed with light, and no truck had hit me. I simply went to sleep and woke up here, in this world.
Fine. I could accept that much. Possession itself is an absurd, sudden thing; trying to reason out the "why" is pointless. It's not like the other possessed protagonists chose this of their own free will either.
At the very least they should have stuck me in something I was a die-hard fan of.
The real issue was that I'd been dropped into a story I didn't know. More precisely, I knew of it—I just hadn't properly read it. Something like The Young Lady Is in Love—
What was the title again?
Anyway, it was one of those romance-fantasy novels. I'd only sampled the free chapters and immediately spit them back out. I'd stumbled across it the way a stray dog sniffs around looking for scraps, and someone had mentioned the popular series was getting a webtoon adaptation, so I took a quick taste.
It wasn't my thing. Right after that I found something better and forgot the whole novel existed. Damn it—if I'd known this would happen, I would've finished it.
...Possession into a romance fantasy.
I was furious at first that I'd been dropped into a story whose plot I barely knew. But the more I thought about it, the less terrible the conditions seemed. In a romance fantasy the Demon King wasn't going to show up and end the world. Plagues and famines wouldn't mow people down left and right. There wouldn't be any grand, sweeping wars. Romance fantasies were too busy serving up sweet love stories between the cast to bother with any of that.
So hadn't I been dropped into a world the creator had deliberately made into easy mode? And the body I'd possessed belonged to the eldest son of an imperial count's house. Blue blood of the purest sort. A genuine noble.
Whoever you are, thank you for the possession...!
"Ah, life just got set to Easy."
The more I sorted through the memories that came with the body, the more I couldn't stop smiling. The original owner was Karl Crassius, sixteen years old this year. Eldest son and heir of the Crassius family. Neither a once-in-a-generation genius nor a raving scoundrel—just an ordinary aristocratic youth.
In other words, I didn't need to act like someone else or put on some dramatic character-growth show. All I had to do was enjoy a happy noble life at roughly the same level as everyone else.
The only real sticking point was what had happened to the body's original owner. I decided to assume he was dead. Even if he wasn't, I had no way of giving the body back. From now on, I was Karl.
And so I cheerfully set about enjoying my happy isekai life.
"Our family's glory is entirely thanks to the grace the imperial family has bestowed upon us through the generations."
It lasted exactly one year.
The day after the New Year that made me seventeen, the head of the house summoned me. I nodded along to his words on pure reflex.
Over the past year I had learned, with painful clarity, that when this die-hard imperialist noble started praising the Emperor and the imperial family, the only correct response was instant, unhesitating agreement. The head of the house seemed satisfied with my spinal-reflex affirmation and moved on without further comment.
"Originally our house was of red blood, not blue. But three hundred years ago, during the Apels invasion, we rendered distinguished service."
"Thanks to that, the Great Emperor Eimanka granted us title and territory and raised us to the ranks of the nobility. His successor, Eimanka II, elevated House Crassius to imperial counts. As the heir of House Crassius, I have never forgotten that profound grace."
"Good. You know it well."
If someone forgot a story they heard once a week, could you even call them human?
I returned the head of the house's pleased look with a matching smile and let it slide. Any moment now he would say something like "Continue to strive ever harder for the imperial family" and send me on my way. Predictable.
"An opportunity has arisen for us to repay even a small measure of that grace."
"Excuse me?"
I hadn't seen that coming.
Ignoring my startled reply, the head of the house simply pulled out a document and continued.
"There is unrest in the North. Foolish creatures who dare rebel against the Empire's dominion are thrashing about beyond their station. The scale of the disturbance is such that His Majesty has expressed concern."
"A regrettable affair."
"Indeed. Therefore House Crassius, as imperial counts and vassals of His Majesty the Emperor, intends to take part in rooting out the traitors who vex him."
"You're going on campaign?"
The head of the house gave a calm nod. House Crassius was one of the imperial counts who held direct vassalage to the Emperor, holding the title of Count of Tailglehen.
If the head of the house led the private troops of Tailglehen County north to join the pacification campaign, the Emperor would gladly accept. In that case, the real request would be for me to manage the county in his absence.
What, is that all? The steward handles everything anyway.
Heir, acting count—whatever. All I'd have to do was stamp a few documents. The head of the house already left most of the county's business to the steward. I'd gotten worried when the conversation suddenly shifted, but it had been a pointless worry.
As if he had read my thoughts, the head of the house changed the subject again.
"You're old enough to enter official service now."
"Excuse me? Me?"
"Yes. At seventeen one may enter the Academy or take up a government post, may one not?"
"If I leave the county as well, who will handle the work?"
"The steward handles everything anyway. It will be fine."
You're not supposed to say that out loud, you useless lord.
"I've already arranged a post. Just show up; they'll tell you what to do."
You die-hard imperialist bastard...
Entering official service at seventeen was legal under imperial law. But attending the Academy was the far more common path.
After all, what could a seventeen-year-old who had only just put on the badge of adulthood really accomplish in a government office? Far better to go to the Academy, learn a few things, and build connections with other noble scions and talented commoners.
But the man in front of me was ignoring all of that and sending his eldest son straight into the bureaucracy. Why? Because His Majesty was in a foul mood, so the house's spare manpower had to be offered up as labor.
And then he would proudly declare: "Our house has sent its newly adult heir into official service so that he may serve the imperial family and the Empire!" It was completely transparent. Whenever this man did something out of the ordinary, you only had to ask how it would look in the Emperor's eyes and the motive became clear.
Not... bad?
Surprisingly, it wasn't a bad option. The Academy? After running nonstop through elementary, middle, high school, and university before nearly being kidnapped into graduate school in my previous life, I had zero desire to go back. Most great noble houses already covered the Academy curriculum with private tutors, and connections were built just as easily before or after the three years of attendance.
A government post, on the other hand, had been arranged by the head of that House Crassius—imperial count, direct vassal of the Emperor of the Kpelleofen Empire with its famously absolute imperial authority, and a renowned martial house. I was only seventeen, so they wouldn't expect much, and the backing would be rock-solid, so I could take it easy... Wait. This actually sounded pretty good.
"I will gladly dedicate this body to the service of His Majesty the Emperor."
At those words the head of the house smiled, and I smiled back. Father and son, smiling for entirely different reasons, set out for the Imperial Capital—he to join the northern pacification army with his private troops, I to comfortably warm the seat he had supposedly prepared, a seat that (I assumed) would flow with milk and honey.
Another four years passed.
"Fuck. I should have gritted my teeth and gone to the Academy back then."
The post the head of the house had prepared did not flow with milk and honey. It flowed with blood and tears, and the wails never stopped. For four years I had lived through every flavor of absolute chaos, from five minutes before total collapse all the way to five minutes after.
Those four years had been more than enough to turn a carefree seventeen-year-old who had been dreaming of easy mode into a twenty-one-year-old adult who had tasted every hardship the world could offer and now simply wanted to retire. Even today I had only just escaped after two full hours of the minister's thunderous shouting.
"This goddamn civil servant life..."
The Academy... do they still accept twenty-one-year-olds...?