I Want to Get Married

―Has anyone received separate contact from the old lady or the Northern Duke?

―Rebecca: None.

―Hazel: Me neither.

―Kellogg: None here either.

…… … .

―Res: Me too, none!

"Yeah…… Of course you wouldn't. Why would they contact an animal when they've got people?"

Today was Friday, February 23rd by the Ailene calendar. It had been four days since the adventurers mauled by the dungeon ghouls had staggered into the Beauty Tower, but there was still no word.

During a brief break in the director's office after morning consultations, he'd sent a group message to the Beauty Tower staff's all-employee crystal orb chat, but nothing new had come up.

"This isn't like him…… Something must've happened, right?"

The guy who'd been blowing up his crystal orb every single day without fail—both Northern Duke Tolstoy Lancaster and Minsia's chats still showed that unread '1' sitting there stubbornly.

For a moment, he wondered if they were in some dire emergency where they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't even check messages. But coldly assessing it, the place where Minsia and Tolstoy had gone to hunt down the black mages—from whom Min Soso had fled—was the South Continent, known as the Land of Darkness. Who knew when crisis might strike there?

Honestly, it was more abnormal for them to be casually sending crystal orb notes from a hellhole like that.

Swipe—Swipe—

"Hmm…… No updates on their status either?"

Before Minsia, the matriarch emeritus, and Northern Duke Tolstoy had left the Gold Territory, he'd asked Kellogg to tweak their crystal orbs a bit. Not a physical mod—more like a software update, if he had to put a name to it.

The revamped crystal orbs for Tolstoy and Minsia came with two key features. First, like the standard ones for Beauty Tower staff, an emergency alert function that pinged him directly if shit hit the fan.

And second, as they ventured into the South Continent, any notable observations they jotted down could be viewed by the staff back home.

The second feature was added because direct chats with Minsia via crystal orb notes were a pain in the ass. Swiping endlessly through the memos linked to his own orb, all he found were sporadic flower pics oozing with the old lady's signature sentimental vibe.

"This is driving me nuts. I added that memo feature for important intel, not this crap! ……Wait, tweak it right, and it could work like SNS?"

Not the original intent, sure. But inventions come from mistakes. And eyeing Minsia's memos sparked a fresh idea.

Ask Kellogg to polish the crystal orb memo function, and it could become an Instagram-style tool—the very thing that had turned his hospital back home, and him, into a god of beauty and the money-loving doctor.

"Ugh, whatever. Can't focus on that till this black magic crap gets sorted first."

With black magic traces popping up right next door in his territory's adjacent dungeon, crystal orb SNS was the last thing on his mind.

What good was SNS if black magic blew up and sent him straight to the afterlife? Money wouldn't matter then—just hop on the express bus to heaven.

Knock knock—

"Director, it's Walter."

"Come in."

His head tangled like a knotted thread with all these worries, Walter Hager pushed open the director's office door.

"Still break time—what's up?"

"Territorial office payment day. When do we depart, sir?"

"Ah, right…… 23rd. Friday. Let's go. Black magic or not, taxes wait for no one."

"Yes, sir. Carriage is prepped downstairs."

This godforsaken isekai made tax day the 25th—if it fell on a weekend, you paid the prior weekday, not after.

'Death and taxes—inescapable for all.' Echoing Benjamin Franklin as they arrived at the Frederik Dungeon Zone territorial office.

"Wait in the carriage, Walter. Might take a while today."

"Understood, Director."

Slamming the ticket snail hard, it spat out a slime-coated number ticket. Shaking it off like old times, he waited in the lobby—called to window 3, as always. Rachel's window.

"Here to pay."

"Yes, this month's dues."

Rachel, who owed him 100 gold, still had that punchable face, but compared to their first meeting, she was downright compliant now.

Pushing up her glasses sliding down her hooked nose, she processed the payment under his intense gaze—then flinched, shooting him a glare.

"……Anything else? As I said the other day, investigating and reporting black magic traces falls under Sky Tower jurisdiction, not ours—I can't—"

"Heh, why so tense? Just admiring your face."

Tuesday, right after treating the ghoul victims, he'd reported to the office and even notified Duke Frederik. But the responses? "Not our jurisdiction." And for black magic, only Sky Tower mages could properly investigate.

So Rachel, seeing his silent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smirk, assumed he was pressuring for a black magic probe.

"My…… face? Sorry, but I have a boyfr—"

"Where'd that come fr— Never mind, Rachel. Haha, not that. Your face just screams 'competent worker.' Got a proposal for you."

"A…… proposal?"

Swipe—

"This…… Gold Territory Territorial Office?"

Pulling a rolled parchment from his pocket and handing it over, Rachel's face drained to a ghostly pallor.

"You know the land Emperor granted me, right? Other buildings are still under construction, but the territorial office finished first."

Her expression stayed grim through his explanation. Speed-reading the paper, she glanced up.

"But why give this to me……?"

"Come on. Gold Territory's expanded, got its own office now—and no staff?"

"……."

"Any guesses why?"

"Uh, well?"

"Well? Hey, snap out of it. Why do you think?"

"……."

He was kinder and gentler to patients and guests than anyone. But to debtors? Ruthless.

And at his ominous question, Rachel's lips trembled open.

"N-no! I like working here!"

"Aha, so you get it, huh, Lady Rachel? Right?"

Of course. Rachel had a knack for squeezing every last copper from frontier adventurers' snot-encrusted noses. No way she missed his point.

"No, look at the bottom—welfare perks, not bad, right? Gold Territory office just opened, and who popped into mind? Someone meticulous, thorough! Who collects every copper—even what could slip by!"

"Is…… that a compliment?"

Damn right it was. Every group needs a sweet mom and stern dad. And in early business? Stern dad discipline first—to grow the company.

"Of course, Rachel. I rate your skills highest. You know civil servants are on seniority pay—I'd love to bump it, but can't. But meal allowances, basic welfare? Lord's discretion."

"……."

"Duh. Gotta take care of my own. Think it over."

He'd love to beg Duke Frederik to dispatch her now. But territorial office staffing was weird. They got salaries from the local lord, but hiring was Imperial. And they could apply to any open spot without lordly interference.

'Most lords don't care about office staff. Replacements are a dime a dozen.'

Especially high nobles like Duke Frederik used office taxes for welfare and ops—main income from family businesses.

So no one batted an eye at transfers.

"……Perks are good. Better than here, honestly. But sorry—no plans to transfer to Gold Territory office."

He hadn't expected her to jump, but outright refusal? That threw him off.

"No transfer…… Why?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Can I be frank?"

She adjusted her slipping glasses; he nodded, and she sighed faintly.

"I want to get married."

"……Out of nowhere?"

"Everyone who passes the Imperial civil service exam and becomes territorial office staff is the same. Tiny salary, but stable retirement backed by the state. In the marriage market, we're top-tier brides."

Rachel…… top-tier bride? He swallowed the urge to laugh.

But no need to antagonize her when he needed her in Gold Territory. He listened.

"But that's only for capital offices. Frontier holes like Frederik's? Not so much. Everyone scrambles for spots near the capital."

"Then why stay in Frederik so long? I hear you've been here awhile."

She sighed deeply.

"I've tried. But even open spots go to near-retirees—and you buy the position. Not cheap."

"Buy positions?"

"Yeah. Hot commodity, so they trade under the table. 1,000 gold easy."

"Hmm……."

Sale of office—a classic he'd only heard of. Her absurd tale suddenly clicked. Like Seoul cabbies trading plates for 100 million won.

"So I'm aiming for a well-perked office near the capital, at least—not Gold Territ—"

"Easy fix. Just make perks better than here?"

"No, it's not just perks!"

"Side gigs allowed."

"……Pardon?"

"We'll allow moonlighting. No other office does. Gold Territory will."

"……For real?"

Dead serious. Hell, he'd dictate her gigs too.

"What's hard about it? Remember, Rachel—I treasure my people most."

And collect debts best.

"Not just allowing it—we'll set you up to rake in fat stacks. If you still want out later, go anytime."

Once he had a replacement. Fine print that, too.

"……."

Still uneasy. Fair—Gold Territory was isekai Podunk, like a Korean ~ri backwater. Hard to swallow a rural doc's pitch.

Time for more bait.

"Oh, not on the paper—but join Gold Territory, and employee discounts."

"Discounts…… cosmetics?"

Her sharp eyes sparkled like stars. Hooking the hefty fish, he reeled calmly.

"Just cosmetics? Whatever—skin treatments, my specialty, up to full plastic surgery, all discounted. Say, hook that hooked nose straight and sharp."

"What? Fix…… the bump?"

He never lured patients. Especially not unprompted. Everyone had unique beauty, even if he measured faces by golden ratio.

'Debtors excepted.'

Rachel owed 100 gold. Ethics off, moral hazard on. Isekai rules.

From gossip via right-hand Cache, time for the kill shot.

"Heard whispers? 'Nose straight, you'd be prettier'?"

"Y-yeah…… Ex-boyfriend…… and the one before……."

"Oops, shouldn't have said that. Nose isn't why you're single. My bad……."

"The…… nose?"

Her face twisted in shock—the first raw emotion in three isekai years.

Realizing breakups weren't her bitchy personality, but looks? Prime prey.

Reeling the heavy catch:

"Anyway, nose aside—plenty more. Eat a lot of slime jerky? Overdeveloped jaw—square jaw Botox due. And whoa, crow's feet already? No skincare ever?"

Her caked makeup screamed Cache Shop colors. But "no care" hit her reverse scale—she shuddered.

"Sun exposure? Freckles galore, sagging skin? And—"

"……Contract, please."

"Pardon?"

"I'll transfer to Gold Territory office."

"Great! Haha, swing by after work. We'll tweak the contract—perks and all."

Black magic leads unsolved.

But life doesn't pile on the bad forever. Hell-spawn civil servant Rachel was in his grasp.

All he needed now: fat perks and a plastic surgery rebirth. Just two things.