Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: I Want to Go Home
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About an hour after arriving at work, a crisis of the soul began to brew. It was a problem of the gravest nature.
"I want to go home..."
The title of "Minister" usually conjures an image of a man drowning in a sea of state affairs, but in reality, my existence here is one of ridiculous, soul-crushing idleness. Once you press your seal onto the stacks of documents provided by the Intelligence Department staff, your contribution to the Empire is effectively over.
On days devoid of meetings, the silence is so heavy it becomes tedious. Not that the meetings offer any respite; they are merely a different flavor of suffocation.
"Maybe I should pick up a hobby."
I needed something subtle—a pastime I could pursue on the sly while anchored to my desk. Drawing, perhaps? I possessed no artistic talent whatsoever, yet I found myself grasping at the faded threads of illustrations from the fairy tale books I’d leafed through as a child.
With that idle thought, I began to doodle on blank parchment. The results were... haunting. What emerged was nothing short of grotesque abstract art. If anyone were to lay eyes on these monstrosities, it wouldn't just be a personal humiliation—it would be a stain of shame upon the entire Barrmut lineage. Destruction was the only path forward.
For the sake of perfect evidence disposal, I struck a match and set the papers ablaze. But just as the flames began to lick the edges of my shame, the office door flew open with a violent lack of ceremony.
"Hahaha! Long time no see, Minister! You kept insisting you were too busy, so I decided to grace you with my presence myself!"
"Wait just a moment, Prime Minister! You cannot simply barge in like—!"
The intruder was Daniel Erickson, the Empire's Prime Minister. Unlike me, he was a titan who had clawed his way to the summit through sheer merit and iron-willed accomplishment. Celine trailed in his wake, her expression hardening into a mask of professional fury.
I understood her frustration. She knew that allowing a man of my... limited capacity to converse with the Prime Minister would tarnish the carefully curated image of the Intelligence Department. Still, witnessing her step directly between me and our guest felt remarkably rude. Not that I had the courage to voice such a thought.
"Please depart, Prime Minister. The Minister is preoccupied with matters of extreme urgency."
Her words radiated a fierce determination to shield me, but Erickson was a man who didn't know the meaning of retreat.
"Isn't that a bit cold to a guest who made the journey just to see you? Come now. I'm a busy man myself, you know."
"I have stated this several times—please submit a formal request for an audience..."
"That's precisely why I'm here! My requests are discarded like trash!"
"I have explained that our Minister is far too busy for such trivialities!"
Impressive, Celine. She didn't yield an inch, even to the second most powerful man in the Empire. Her resolve was commendable, but Erickson was already inside the fortress. He wasn't going to slink away. I had no choice but to intervene.
"Celine. Stand down."
"Kuh...!"
Unable to defy a direct order from her superior in the presence of the Prime Minister, Celine stepped aside, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. No, Celine, I meant for YOU to leave the room. It was for the good of the nation, honestly—I didn't want any witnesses to my inevitable social dismantling. Sighing, I surrendered to fate.
"My apologies, Prime Minister. Please, have a seat."
"Oho, much appreciated! You're always so reasonable, Minister!"
I vacated my chair and sat opposite Erickson on the central sofa. As Celine served the tea with a stiff precision, the real interrogation began.
"So, Minister. When I entered, you were committing something to the flames. What was it?"
Straight for the jugular, then.
"Prime Minister...!" Celine growled, ready to snap at him for mocking me. I was genuinely touched by her loyalty, but honesty seemed the safest harbor here. The evidence was already ash; there was nothing left to reveal.
"I was merely drawing some pictures."
"Oh? Pictures? What kind?"
"Nothing of consequence. Just imitating some illustrations from the fairy tale books I read as a boy."
For the record, I had been attempting to render a wolf. What had actually manifested was a monstrous entity whose species remained a total mystery. Erickson’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hoo... fairy tale books..."
"Hm? Do you have an affinity for fairy tales?" I asked, genuinely surprised. It seemed like a rather pure hobby for a man of his Machiavellian reputation.
"Well... I do find myself drawn to stories with a moral."
"Stories with morals. So you enjoy tales where virtue is rewarded and vice is punished."
Fairy tales have always revolved around that simple binary. Watching the villain receive their long-overdue comeuppance is a satisfaction that never truly ages.
"...Does the Minister harbor a fondness for tales of good and evil?"
"Yes. In stories, the line between good and evil is drawn with perfect clarity."
The heroes do good and receive blessings; the villains commit evil and meet their ruin. To a simple soul like mine, such straightforward narratives are deeply comforting.
"...I see. True enough—in stories, good and evil are clearly divided. So, which side does the Minister prefer? The light? Or the dark?"
What a peculiar question. Isn't the answer obvious?
"Good, of course."
"You're certain of that?"
"Yes. I prefer the stories where evil is utterly smashed."
"...I see. I understand your answer perfectly. My apologies for the intrusion."
Leaving already? I thought he was here to harass me—the son of the Noble Faction’s leader—on my father's behalf. Had he truly just dropped by out of sheer boredom? I felt a sudden pang of guilt.
"Leaving so soon? I had more stories I wished to hear."
"I've just recalled some urgent business. We shall have tea another time."
I had tried to prolong the chat to kill the remaining hours, but Erickson departed with a face as blank and emotionless as a statue. Had I offended him? The thought nagged at me. If I had inadvertently insulted the man, an apology was necessary. While pondering a solution, I turned to Celine.
"Send Prime Minister Erickson a gift."
"A gift...?"
"Yes. Something appropriate."
"Understood."
I would leave the details to her. Her judgment was bound to be leagues ahead of my own zero-sense style.
The morning after Prime Minister Erickson’s visit to the Minister's office.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"W-what is it?!"
Jolted from sleep by the sudden, piercing scream, Daniel Erickson sat bolt upright. His wife was pointing with a trembling finger at the headboard of the very bed they had occupied moments ago.
A dagger was embedded deep in the wood. Precisely between where their heads had rested.
"W-what is this, Daniel?! Who would do such a thing—!"
"...Calm yourself. I will handle this."
Soothing his shaken wife, Erickson bellowed for the guards. Within seconds, the mansion's security rushed in, their faces draining of all color at the sight of the weapon plunged into the master's headboard.
"How the hell do you call this security?!"
"S-sorry, sir..."
"Do you think an apology mends this breach?!"
While he vented his rage outwardly, Erickson's mind was ice-cold and calculating. He was the Prime Minister; his guards were the elite of the elite. There was only one group in the entire Acherus Empire capable of slipping past them like ghosts to leave such a calling card.
Owl. He mobilized those assassins to prove yesterday's warning was no idle bluff...!
The day before, Erickson had gone to gauge the Intelligence Minister's knowledge regarding the Fairytale drug distribution. But the Minister hadn't taken the bait. He had been as blunt as a war hammer. Keep scheming, and you might end up dead.
An overt death threat delivered to the Prime Minister. And the proof that it wasn't just talk? That dagger. But the fact that it stopped at a warning also proves they lack hard evidence—for now.
His opponent was that merciless "Iron Blood." If the Minister had possessed solid proof, Erickson’s head would have been on a pike by sunset. This was a race, pure and simple. Who would reach the finish line first? The Anti-Noble Faction crushing the aristocracy, or the Intelligence Department—the linchpin of the nobles—taking the Prime Minister’s life?
Fine. Bring it on, Minister. It’s time you learned what true experience can do...!
First order of business: double the security. Triple it.
To Celine Blasia, the Minister was not merely a man; he was a god. Her devotion had been forged ten years ago, when he had personally rescued her from a human trafficking syndicate during the height of their depravity.
In truth, the Minister rarely visited active sites. Even then, he had only arrived after the operation was concluded—not for Celine specifically, but to oversee the welfare of the many victims. But such cold facts did nothing to erode Celine’s faith. When the Minister had draped his own jacket over her trembling, terror-stricken body and whispered, "It's okay now," her soul had been pledged to him for life.
But she was a commoner—the lowest of the low. By birth, she was worlds apart from her deity. So she struggled. She poured herself into her studies with a resolve so absolute that even death by exhaustion would have been a welcomed sacrifice. Her determination was that of a martyr.
Her efforts bore fruit. She gained entry to the Imperial Academy—a fortress near-impenetrable for non-nobles—on pure merit. She held the top rank for years and graduated at the absolute zenith of her class. High-paying offers flooded in from every corner of the Empire, but Celine didn't spare them a glance. There was only one seat she craved: the one beside her god.
She claimed it fairly. Fortune smiled upon her too; the previous secretary had vanished for "certain reasons" at the perfect moment. Thus, Celine’s feelings for Erwin were a pure, unadulterated devotion. There was no room for romance in her heart, only the intent to serve chastely at his side until the day they both returned to the earth.
That had been the plan. Until now.
"Hey, um, Celine. About the next escort shift for the Minister... Could I take it?"
Even without an invitation, pests always found a way to manifest. Celine knew it was inevitable; sweet things always drew bugs. And swatting them away? That was her duty as well.
"No, Christina. Don't you have an active mission?"
"It's finished. And didn't you hear? I received vacation time directly from the Minister himself."
"Then enjoy your vacation. Do not trouble the Minister with your presence."
"I'm not troubling him! I just want to handle the escort!"
Even after Celine pointed out that her very presence was a disturbance, Christina dug in her heels. She even went on the offensive.
"Think about it—it's suspicious! You schedule all the Minister's escorts, yet there's not a single day featuring a female agent? Are you telling me that's a coincidence?!"
"...There is nothing suspicious. Only the strongest are permitted to protect the Minister."
"Then I am the perfect candidate! Or what? Are you suggesting I am weak?"
At a loss for a retort, Celine fell silent. As her mind raced for a counterargument to banish this intruder—
The office door swung open, and the man himself emerged.
"What is the source of all this noise in the hallway?"
"Ah, Minister! May I serve as your escort today?"
"What of your vacation?"
"I'll forfeit it!"
"Do as you wish."
"Yes!"
A grinding sound escaped Celine's clenched teeth as the documents in her hand were crumpled mercilessly by her grip.