A Fiery Start to the Year - 4
The grueling march was finally over — the stretch of days upon days spent huddled over paperwork with the Minister, heads locked together in shared suffering.
It had been hell. Between the departments packing their documents so densely the pages made your eyes sting, desperate not to give anyone a single handle to seize on, and the Minister hunting through that sea of paper for any flaw he could use to send the whole stack back — none of them were right in the head. And somehow the rejected departments would reappear with brand-new submissions in under three hours. They were actually insane.
"Well then… I'll be taking my leave…"
Even my declaration of escape drew no voice from the Minister. He only tipped his head back and waved a limp hand. That gesture looking exactly like sign language for stop making noise and get out of here right now was almost certainly not my imagination.
The sight of a superior on the brink of death ought to have been comedy gold, but I couldn't even smile. Anyone looking at me would have seen someone in no better shape than the Minister himself.
And then, at the very end, the final boss.
My teeth still ached just thinking about it. The strongest enemy showing up last is less a cliché than common sense, but this had been excessive by any standard.
Remembering the protagonist who, until only an hour ago, had been carving an unbeaten path through the Minister's office — the Demon King who had shredded both our eardrums and our mental fortitude in real time — I felt tears welling up.
"Minister of Finance."
"Minister of Public Relief? What is it? We already approved the Relief Ministry's supplementary budget first of all."
"I'm sorry, but it seems we need still more, so I came in person."
The sudden personal descent of the Minister of Public Relief, and that bold announcement that he meant to strip them for even more — the one-two punch left the Finance Minister reeling.
"What? Who gets a supplementary budget twice?!"
"A supplementary budget is something you obtain by applying during the allocation period. There is no limit on how many times."
Technically true. It was simply that no hero had ever managed to snatch a supplementary budget twice in such a short span — when getting it even once was already hard enough.
And I had just witnessed the birth of that hero.
"The children orphaned by the Great Subjugation War are now of an age to enter society. Support for those children must be handled separately!"
"Which is exactly why we already increased the orphan support funds!"
"Orphans and children attempting to enter society are not the same thing. They don't simply stay in the orphanages — they scatter in search of work."
At the arrival of that cheat key called "orphans," I quietly shut my mouth. The Minister, who knew nothing whatsoever about orphans or welfare, had nothing solid with which to push back.
Honestly, even if he had known something, he still couldn't have argued. What logic was anyone supposed to deploy in front of the final boss of the welfare field? On top of that, the current Minister of Public Relief was a mythic figure — an orphan who had risen all the way to a ministerial post with a noble title to match. You were going to stand in front of a man who built policy from the raw material of his own life and ask, Does that really have to be necessary?
I couldn't do it.
No human being could, and the Minister was human enough for the rule to apply. So he got thoroughly cleaned out by the Minister of Public Relief and ended up approving a second round of supplementary funding.
Still, it could have been worse. No other departments showed up after that.
…Was that actually a good thing?
Even a civil servant who rolled through endless hardship wasn't required to suffer every single day of his life.
"Chief. It's the Deputy Chief."
"Ah, come in."
At the Deputy Chief's voice outside the door, I steadied the flutter in my chest.
Today was a happy day. Whether as a reward for facing down the administrative veterans alongside the Minister, or pure coincidence — this time, I got to deal with fresh, tender newbies.
Newbies.
The heart I had just calmed started racing again. Newbies. Pure children as yet unstained by filth. What a beautiful sound that word made. Just saying it was a joy; the thought of seeing them in person was joy piled on joy.
Today was the day the newly minted civil servants finished their mandatory training and reported for their first day at their assigned departments. As department chief, wasn't it only right that I welcome and cheer on the Audit Department's newest juniors? Honestly, this felt more like my birthday than my actual birthday.
As if sensing that mood, the moment the word "come in" left my mouth the door flew open and a crowd of about ten poured in.
That's a lot.
Deeply satisfying. Within the administration, the Ministry of Finance was known as an elite posting — plenty of people wanted in, and precious few actually made it. And yet here were roughly ten of them landing in a single department of that ministry, the Audit Department. This year's haul was historic.
They came properly.
And among those ten-odd faces were several I knew extremely well, which made the corner of my mouth twitch. The Student Council officers I'd been eyeing since last year had come to the Audit Department as well.
Of course the Discipline Committee President, with that martial streak of his, must have gone into the military — he wasn't among them. But since he was the only one missing, it was essentially a full house. Thank you for trusting me and coming. I'll guarantee you a job for life. Hell, if you want, we can even make it hereditary for your kids.
"Quite a few this year. The section chiefs will be delighted."
Anyway, I rose from my seat to welcome the new juniors. Seeing them fidget and shift like they were wound tight, I simply couldn't stay sitting.
Besides, the Audit Department had rarely had anyone younger than me — and now we had a sudden flood of them. I chose to believe the department's average age had just dropped a notch.
"They've been assigned evenly across the sections."
"Including the Deputy Chief's office?"
"Yes."
The clean, contented way the Deputy Chief answered made me snort a laugh.
Right — the Deputy Chief had every reason to be pleased. There was a saying that nine-tenths of the Audit Department's paperwork was processed through the Deputy Chief's office; the workload there was beyond imagination. With several new hires flowing in under those conditions, cartwheels of pure joy were only natural.
"Welcome to the Audit Department. We may not see each other often, but I hope the day comes when we do."
"Yes, sir! We'll do our absolute best!"
Leaving the delighted Deputy Chief behind me, I held out my hand to the nearest new hire. He seized it in both of his and bowed from the waist, booming greeting included.
This was what I loved about newbies. They didn't look down on their department chief; they showed a face full of respect. This was how a superior and a subordinate were supposed to look. If the section chief bastards would just take half a page from these kids' book…
I had finally arrived.
I had reached the ideal place I had only ever seen in dreams.
So this is the Audit Department.
When the new officials finished the training every recruit was required to complete and set foot in the Ministry of Finance building — and then, among all its wings, stepped into the Audit Department's sector — an emotion I couldn't put into words surged up through me.
It was a miracle. A perfectly ordinary son of a perfectly ordinary Viscount house, with no connections and nothing special to his name, had made it into the Audit Department — the most powerful of the powerful. Merely getting into the civil administration at all would have been more than enough to be grateful for. How could I not be overjoyed? Siri, standing beside me, looked just as dazed by the situation, her expression blank with disbelief.
If I closed my eyes, the tears would come. Of course, from the moment I received the Audit Department Chief's letter of recommendation I had expected a future like this — but expecting something and living it were two different things.
The benefactor of my life.
That was why the Audit Department Chief was no mere superior to me. He was the man who had cracked open a vast opportunity in a fate that would otherwise have ended with me as one ordinary noble among the empire's countless thousands.
To hold a standing like the noble who entered the Audit Department at twenty on the Chief's personal recommendation and still go on to live a mediocre life? That would be pure inability on my part, and no one else to blame — the incompetence of a man who couldn't even make use of the chance that had rolled into his lap.
"I don't know what the Chief looks like to people outside the Audit Department, but he is a generous man. He doesn't scold without reason, and if you put in the effort, he is the sort who will reward it accordingly."
While I was still busy with gratitude toward the Audit Department Chief and resolutions for the future, the Deputy Chief leading the new hires spoke in a low voice.
I knew. I knew it well. Contrary to the fearsome reputation that clung to him, the Audit Department Chief was merciful, fair, and supremely capable — a man utterly different from the black name people who knew nothing of him liked to pin on him.
"So don't be so tense. After today you won't even see him, so don't just keep your heads down."
At those words, every one of us nodded.
Right. No need to be nervous. It wasn't as if this was the first time we were meeting the Audit Department Chief.
Though, come to think of it, meeting him as the Chief of the Audit Department rather than as an Academy inspector — that really was a first.
"Quite a few this year. The section chiefs will be delighted."
Watching the Audit Department Chief rise from his seat and come toward us, my legs trembled. My head insisted he was a familiar figure, but my body slipped free of the head's control and sank into pure tension.
Strange. Did a change of setting alone really make someone feel this different?
"Welcome to the Audit Department. We may not see each other often, but I hope the day comes when we do."
Still, hearing him speak so gently, the tension began to ease little by little.
No matter how much the place had changed, the person hadn't. The merciful man I knew wasn't going to turn into someone else.
The day when we do.
And that simple phrase struck deep. The only ranks that got to see the Audit Department Chief often were the senior officers. In other words, he was cheering us on — telling us to aim for those posts and push ourselves.
Then I had to answer that cheer. Without fail, I would become a senior officer and follow in his footsteps. As someone who had received his letter of recommendation, I would make sure no one ever whispered that the Audit Department Chief had a poor eye for people.
For a man who had received a grace like no other, that was the only way I could repay him.
"Unlike at the Academy, this time you're the juniors. Work hard."
"Yes, sir! I'll keep that close to heart!"
For now, I took the Audit Department Chief's hand and bowed from the waist.
In the future, I would become someone who could stand proudly at that man's back.
After the first greeting I went on shaking hands with every new hire, offering each of them a word of encouragement. Seeing Damian and the other officers again was a little pleasant, but if I acted too familiar it might spark jealousy, so I kept it measured. Once word got around that a bottom-rung junior was close with the head of the department, ordinary life became impossible.
Someday these kids will be section chiefs too, I suppose.
I nearly shut my eyes against that nightmare future. Couldn't you all just stay team members forever?
The new hires would foam at the mouth if they heard the thought, but I meant every word. The team leaders were still mostly sane — it was the section chiefs who seemed to have sold off their common sense the moment they got promoted and now radiated nothing but pure madness.
Please. At least you stay pure little juniors forever…