They Call Me the King of the Inspectorate - 1

At the tender age of twenty I had become the godfather of the Imperial Grandson—a true power broker among power brokers. A political heavyweight destined to (physically) carry the next next Emperor on his back. Overnight I had been saddled with an enormous title, yet my daily life hadn't changed one bit.

After all, to truly feel a rise in reputation you have to meet other people, and I was stuck at the Academy seeing only the same faces every day. I had never cared about high society either, so no one ever came running up to act friendly first.

Nothing special, really.

The thought even crossed my mind. Being crushed under the weight of the title "godfather" had only lasted from the day the Crown Prince informed me until the day of the Imperial Grandson's investiture. Once the ceremony ended, things became astonishingly peaceful.

If I had been the one caring for the Imperial Grandson at the palace it might have been different, but letting an amateur handle a one-week-old infant is dangerous. Even the Crown Princess needed the permission of veteran wet nurses before she was allowed to hold or cradle him.

A baby, huh.

I lowered my gaze without thinking. I stared blankly down at the hands that had briefly held the Imperial Grandson during the godfather announcement.

"Ah—"

I could still hear the Imperial Grandson's soft cooing by my ear. It had been quieter than any other sound, yet somehow it refused to leave my head.

Strange. How could a baby who could barely open his eyes, a baby who could only manage the tiniest wriggle of his fingers, feel so large? Was I simply enchanted by the innate cuteness of infants?

"Already cooing—how clever he is!"

Of course, no matter how enchanted I might have been, I was nowhere near as smitten as the Crown Prince. After the investiture, when he finally heard the Imperial Grandson's cooing for himself, the Crown Prince had grinned until his mouth nearly split, utterly delighted.

From his perspective it was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his first child, so the reaction was only natural. Which made me the strange one for thinking about it, didn't it?

...If I grow fond of my godchild, that's a good thing.

After a brief moment of thought I settled on a simple conclusion and lay down on the bed.

Since we had already formed a godfather-godchild bond, the right thing was to care for him with affection. Now that things had turned out this way, it wouldn't hurt to think of it as practice for the children I would have in the future.

I'll be a good godfather.

My goal was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to make the Imperial Grandson say, "I like Godfather better than Father."

Just imagining the expression the Crown Prince would make at that moment set my heart racing on its own.

Lately I had begun to fear death.

There are many theories about what humans experience after dying. One of them holds that those who have accumulated virtue ascend to the heavens where Enen dwells, while those heavy with sin fall into hell.

If that theory were true, then as Crown Prince I had striven for the Imperial House, the Empire, and its people, so my chances of reaching heaven ought to be high—

But if I went, I would only be disappointed.

I was already experiencing heaven in this life; the emptiness and letdown that would follow death terrified me. If the afterlife were identical to the present world, what would be the point?

Yet there was nothing to be done. This was Enen's own fault for accidentally sending an angel down to the mortal realm.

"Aaah—"

"Hush now, Mama is right here."

The Crown Princess approached with a gentle smile at the Imperial Grandson's cooing. The beautiful sight drew a smile from me as well.

Yes—think of it positively. Enen must have sent a mortal angel for my sake, after I had been tormented by that devil of a second prince. And not just one, but two: my wife and the Imperial Grandson.

While I watched the two angels, the communication orb at my breast gave a short vibration. I had stepped out only briefly; this was still official working hours.

Damn.

I slipped quietly into a corner and checked the orb. A message of regrettable content from Father Emperor awaited me.

The resignation of the Minister of Palace Affairs, who had served for decades as Father's partner and right hand. The moment I saw the words I nearly let out a sigh.

The Minister of Palace Affairs was a first-class meritorious official who had helped Father rebuild an empire so chaotic that even the word "chaos" fell short. Though older than Father, there were in fact quite a few bureaucrats senior to the Emperor. I had hoped he would continue to put his abilities to work for a long time yet.

But I could not bring myself to stop him. Father had already given final approval to the resignation, and more importantly, the post of Minister of Palace Affairs was a seat that served only one Emperor.

It was a position that would have been replaced the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I ascended the throne anyway.

Bitter, but inevitable. A new Emperor and a new Minister of Palace Affairs leading the administration—that was the Empire's custom.

For the time being the Minister of Finance will have to lead the administration.

The thought that suddenly occurred to me drew a wry smile. If Father appointed a new Minister of Palace Affairs, the previous minister's resignation would lose all meaning; yet I could not appoint one of my own people while still unascended.

This inevitable vacancy would have to be shouldered by the Minister of Finance along with his own duties. Truly regrettable.

...Hmm?

While offering silent condolences toward the Minister of Finance and continuing to check Father's message, a rather striking piece of content caught my eye.

"Ha."

I could not help bursting into laughter.

Father was putting on a spectacular show right up until the moment of abdication.

Wherever an organization exists, hierarchy inevitably follows, and where hierarchy exists, personnel transfers—including promotions—are bound to occur.

The Empire was no exception. If anything, because it maintained a vast bureaucracy spanning the entire nation, personnel moves were watched and hungered after by countless people.

Specifically there were three cases: regular personnel transfers conducted every half-year; emergency transfers when vacancies had to be filled at once or serious trouble would result; and special transfers carried out whenever the Empire celebrated a joyous occasion.

The investiture of the Imperial Grandson is more than enough of a joyous occasion for the Empire.

And today, five days after the investiture ceremony, the last of those three cases had been triggered.

...It'll be fine this time too, right?

My hands had begun to tremble of their own accord. They had been doing so ever since I heard there would be a special personnel announcement today.

Fortunately I had safely weathered the two regular transfers this year. The war damage had not been severe enough to require emergency transfers either. I had let my guard down—then the surprise variable named Imperial Grandson appeared.

It was enough to drive a man insane. Of the three, regular transfers at least gave the parties involved a quiet heads-up beforehand; emergency and special transfers offered no such courtesy. Had I not myself woken up one morning as Audit Department Chief thanks to an emergency transfer?

I was terrified. Honestly, as long as the Minister stood firm, the odds of me being promoted were fucking abysmal. Yet the merits I had earned in the recent war, plus the honor of being the Imperial Grandson's godfather—the justifications for promotion were piling up thick and sticky.

It'll be fine.

I still forced myself to calm down and repeated the words inside my head.

Yes, it would be fine. The only post I could rise to was Minister of Finance, and that seat was being held steadfastly by the current minister. The Imperial House was not so merciful that it would force the minister into retirement just to promote me.

It's here.

While I was busy with endless self-suggestion, the communication orb began to vibrate.

It had arrived. The results of this damned, brand-like, nightmare of a personnel transfer had come out.

"Please!"

I could not help crying out the word with raw desperation. Thank the heavens I was alone in the inspectors' quarters; anyone nearby would have given me a pitying look.

Of course, receiving pitying looks while keeping my post as Audit Department Chief would still be a profitable trade. Your Majesty, please take pity on me...!

I skipped the ceremonial preamble at top speed. Everyone else reading this was probably doing the same.

I flipped through the contents like a madman. Enen's grace, the Great Emperor's virtue, the Imperial House's vast fortune—none of those flowery phrases reached me.

Then I flinched for a moment at the notice that the Minister of Palace Affairs post had become vacant.

He resigned.

It was the duty of a Minister of Palace Affairs to share the reign of the Emperor who appointed him. I had expected the minister would step down soon enough, but I never imagined he would leave before the abdication.

Never in my life had I envied the Minister of Palace Affairs—no, the former Minister of Palace Affairs—more than I did today. He had worked longer than I had, yet I still envied him.

...At least the Minister of Finance is not vacant.

After finishing that rather ugly bout of envy and jealousy, I turned my eyes back to the communication orb.

The statement that the Minister of Finance would head the administration meant someone was still filling that post. The only question left was whether it was the current minister or a surprise promotion for me.

Please.

I offered a prayer for the who-knew-how-many-th time and checked the next line. If a sentence like "The Minister of Finance shall be Count Karl Crassius of Wiridia" appeared, I was fully prepared to bite my own tongue.

And the heavens answered my desperate plea.

I wept in my heart.

The instant I confirmed the Minister of Finance was staying put, I nearly flung the communication orb away. As long as I had not been promoted, nothing else mattered. Honestly, there was no chance I would have been fired or demoted.

But the basics of social life include sharing joys and sorrows. When someone you know professionally is promoted, offering congratulations is only proper. With a heart that had suddenly grown mild, I continued checking the remaining contents.

What the fuck.

Then I discovered something horrifying.

The final line of the section on administrative ministerial appointments. It was short and concise, yet its weight was anything but light.

For a moment I doubted my own eyes.

Integrate... what? Create what?

...

"Fuck."

That was the only word that came out.

There were so many things I wanted to say, yet nothing but curses emerged.