The Emperor Doesn't Know Labor Law
If I could go back in time, I would wring my own past self's neck. And if that proved impossible, I would take the bottle the Emperor handed me and smash it over his head. Both options would bring catastrophic consequences, but either one would still be better than the agony I was living through now.
I quietly lowered my gaze, holding back tears that threatened to spill the moment I let my guard down. Until only a few days ago I had believed my status was that of an imperial slave—an arrogance that failed to account for the fact that beneath the floor, there is always a basement.
"Have you not judged that a man determined to protect everything—rather than an emperor who has abandoned it all—may rule this empire? The Retired Emperor I knew would have endured even as an immortal if it meant sparing the empire harm."
The moment that black stain of history rose to mind, my head throbbed.
I never should have said that.
I hadn't known. I bit my lip. It was absurd. It was unthinkable. For a subject to dare speak of the Retired Emperor's judgment, of the Emperor's fitness to rule—that was a madness that crossed every line and then some. Honestly, even I had to admit that if the Emperor had decorated the first days of his reign with my execution, I would have had nothing to say in my defense.
But what was more terrifying still was the Emperor's reaction. He heard that insane remark—and laughed. Not the laughter of a man struck speechless by sheer disbelief, nor the laughter that comes when rage peaks so high it flips into something else. He laughed with genuine delight.
"Yes. The Minister is right. The Retired Emperor judged as much, and so he abdicated in my favor. That is correct!"
Watching him, I felt like a civilian who had rounded a corner only to come face-to-face with the Joker dancing on a staircase. A horror beyond words crawled up my spine.
And from that day on, true terror and despair began to close in.
"That will be all for today's schedule. Ah—Minister, come with me."
"Have a drink. You'll be suffering a few more days yet, so this much is fine."
"Come to the office first thing in the morning. The young ones ought to do at least a little work, don't you think?"
A man who had once summoned or contacted me only when something was needed now kept me glued to his side after that remark. In the kindest terms, it was favor. In honest ones—
A toy.
Yes. A toy. A toy he liked so much he carried it around all day. One he treasured, yes, but also one he liked so much he worked it half to death—and even if it broke, he would keep it with him out of sheer affection.
A ghastly notion, but my instincts were screaming it. I had degenerated from a competent slave into a comfort toy. Clearly my alcohol-fueled madness had shifted something in the Emperor's heart.
Whether that something was the pleasure of watching a lunatic, or the desire to keep a cheeky bastard close so he could torment him at leisure, I couldn't say—
"Minister, what is the matter? Does the meal not suit you?"
"Not at all, Your Majesty. It is so excellent I was savoring every bite."
Regrettably, either way, I was still stuck being tormented by the Emperor.
Fuck.
I dropped my gaze again as the Emperor nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer.
Amazingly, for several days now I had been invited to the Emperor's evening meal and made to share his table. Sharing a table with a beast of a man was not something that should have been allowed, and it was nothing short of horrifying.
"A fine meal is incomplete without fine liquor. Not long ago, vodka from the Lucen Kingdom—"
"Your Majesty. The people of Lucen must endure bitter cold, so they may need a daily vodka, but Your Majesty has no such need."
The one mercy was that the Empress—beast-tamer extraordinaire—was present as well.
I was benefiting from her even now. From my perspective, the Emperor had been about to dredge up the very symbol of my black history, and the Empress had gently reined him in. He had been about to call a servant; at her intervention, he quietly lowered his hand.
"I let my desire to share something fine with the Minister get the better of me. Forgive me, Empress."
He said he was sorry to the Empress—so why was he looking at me?
"I understand Your Majesty's feelings perfectly. Sharing company with a subject whose heart is in tune with your own must be a joy. I only spoke out of concern for your health."
Even the Empress, following the Emperor's gaze, was now glancing at me with quiet significance.
I was going to lose my mind. Was I not the Emperor's personal comfort toy, but the entire imperial family's communal one?
—Isn't it a good thing when important people take an interest in you?
And into that mess barged the Eternal Blue Sky, who had been quiet for some time, plunging my head into chaos.
She had gone silent after extracting a promise that I would visit her with the sacred relic during winter break—and of course she chose this exact moment to reappear.
Isn't it a good thing when elves and fairies look after you?
—Ah.
Still, I shared a similar brand of suffering with the Eternal Blue Sky, so I was able to drive her off quickly. The suffering of knowing that too much attention kills the one who receives it.
…Worse still, the fact that my only comrade-in-arms was not a human but a goddess made me want to cry.
A frail civil servant who could not leave the Imperial Capital only managed to contact his lovers once night fell.
"I was a little late today—dining with His Majesty again. I'm sorry, Mar."
"No, it's all right. If anything, it means His Majesty trusts you, Karl. That makes me happy."
Watching Mar smile so brightly, as if she truly meant it, I could only manage a bitter smile of my own. To the man living it, that trust was something he desperately wanted withdrawn—but to a third party, it was practically an honor.
So in front of others I stuck to objective facts like "I was held up and couldn't contact you sooner," and never said that the Emperor was driving me to death. Saying so would only make them worry.
"Anyway, I really ought to get back to the Academy, but I have no idea when this work will end."
"Heh. Don't worry. Eri's there in your place, isn't she?"
That's exactly what I'm worried about.
I swallowed the words that rose all the way to my throat and forced a smile.
On the day of the abdication ceremony the Academy had closed, but afterward classes had resumed as normal. In other words—whether the newly enthroned Emperor and his close aides ground themselves into dust or not—the world had returned to its everyday rhythm.
Which was why Erzebet had stepped in as my stand-in at the Academy while I remained stuck outside ordinary life. I wanted to protest to the Emperor about how efficient and precise his personnel decisions only ever became at times like this. The man was a complete bastard.
"Honestly, I'd love for all of us to come to the capital… but if we did, we'd only be a burden to you, wouldn't we?"
Her faintly bitter murmur made me feel sorry for her—but unfortunately, Mar was right.
I went to the Imperial Palace early in the morning and only left after dinner. Even if my lovers came to the capital, I wouldn't be able to properly welcome them. I would only pile guilt upon myself for leaving them neglected after they'd come all that way, and my mental exhaustion would only grow.
"…Today, at least, I envy Father and Beatrix."
"Isn't that a rather modest reason for envy?"
But at what she said next, I burst out laughing. My father-in-law and Beatrix both stood in the lofty rank of Duke, so envy was natural enough—but Mar envied them simply because they got to be with me. The dukes were suffering in real time right alongside me, after all.
The laughter that broke free refused to settle. How humble and adorable a jealousy that was.
"Tomorrow I'll tell Father-in-law that Mar wants a dukedom—"
"Don't you dare."
"Understood."
And then Mar began to laugh with me.
It was because of hours like this that I made it through each day.
At last—
At last, it's over.
I sank into an ordinary chair in the office—not the throne—and allowed myself a smile of relief. For the moment, I had dismissed even the dukes and the ministers.
I had received the oaths of loyalty from every titled noble, every bureaucrat, every commander and judge in the empire. I had smoothly concluded diplomacy with the envoys from each nation and sent them on their way. Everything that required immediate attention as the new Emperor was done.
…Now only the banquet remains.
The thought of the most tedious task of all nearly drew a sigh from me. After everything I had endured from the abdication ceremony through today, a banquet was hardly anything—but the prospect of hosting one on a scale surpassing even the New Year's Audience already had fatigue pressing in. I had never held particularly fond memories of banquets to begin with, and I was not the sort who enjoyed them.
But what choice did I have? For a newly enthroned sovereign to finish the business at hand and hold a coronation banquet was a tradition that stretched beyond the empire across the entire continent. Even the Retired Emperor, whose own accession had been far from ordinary, had held one. The only problem had been its somewhat modest scale.
Which meant I had to hold a proper banquet. I had to make a show of the fact that a new Emperor's enthronement was, above all else, a matter for celebration and reverence.
At least it won't be immediate. That's a mercy.
A banquet meant to display grandeur and splendor befitting an emperor's dignity would, of course, take a considerable amount of time to prepare.
Fortunately, the Retired Emperor had been preparing the abdication for some time, so it would not drag on for months—but I could at least buy a minimal stretch of breathing room. Enough time for the nobles who had sworn their loyalty and gone home to catch their breath, and enough for me to take a brief rest as well.
"Your Majesty."
As I thought this, kneading my stiff shoulders, Sir Hendrick's voice came from beyond the door.
"The Director of the Imperial Household requests an audience with Your Majesty."
The Director of the Imperial Household?
An unexpected visitor—but for the Director of the Imperial Household, a call at any hour was hardly strange. There were few periods when the Ministry of Palace Affairs was busier than this one.
Come to think of it, I would need to appoint a new Minister of Palace Affairs soon. The Captain of the Imperial Guard was said to be stepping down before long, so it would be best to maintain the Director's acting administration until then. Appointing key posts in a cluster was better than spacing them out.
"Admit him."
Having sorted my thoughts, I granted the audience, and the Director of the Imperial Household entered with careful steps.
Oh dear.
Looking at him, I felt a pang of sympathy. Even by generous standards, his complexion could not be called healthy. His own duties as Director would already be heavy, and on top of that he was serving as acting Minister of Palace Affairs. Truly, his labors were great.
"Long live His Imperial Majesty. This humble servant presents himself before the exalted sun."
"Raise your head."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Even on a second look, his color was poor.
Once the banquet was over, I would have to make certain he received leave. Otherwise I feared we would lose a capable official entirely.
"Well then, Director. What brings you here?"
Wanting to finish the business quickly for the sake of the ailing man before me, I asked him directly. The Director of the Imperial Household respectfully held out the documents he carried.
"I have come to convey a message from His Majesty the Retired Emperor."
"From the Retired Emperor?"
The unexpected words drew a question from me before I could stop it. Since the abdication ceremony he had insisted he was no longer emperor and had withdrawn from every duty; after visiting Mother's grave, he had even refrained from going outside.
And now, suddenly, a message from the Retired Emperor? What on earth was this about?
…What is this?
The question only deepened when I looked at the papers the Director handed me. The last time a document had left my mind this blank was the Minister's World Tree incident.
But it could not be helped. The contents written there were bizarre beyond measure.
A field?
The Retired Emperor wished to create a small field inside the Imperial Palace.
Livestock?
And he intended to raise a few animals as well.
…
What?
What in the world?
"His Majesty the Retired Emperor said that he must learn these things in advance, for the sake of someone he will meet in the future."
The Director's additional explanation, offered after seeing my expression, only tangled my thoughts further.
Just who was the Retired Emperor planning to meet that he needed to learn this? No—did he even have anyone left to meet?
…I have no idea.
Even after becoming the Retired Emperor rather than the Emperor, he remained a man whose inner workings were difficult to grasp.