Kibon flinched. I shook my head and added,
“Even if you were royalty, all they’d do is say sorry to your face. Nothing would really change.”
Kibon stopped in his tracks for the mont, but the air around him grew even colder.
This is why it’s so exhausting to teach flowers raised in a greenhouse—kids who’ve never had to deal with real life.
As I led him outside, I said,
“Calm down. From their point of view, it might actually be understandable.”
“What part of that is understandable? Petty bullying between civil servants...?”
“We’re all getting the sa salary, but our departnt looks like a joke. Let’s be honest—it was a joke.”
That’s exactly how it used to be.
Whenever anyone ntioned the Scroll Managent Departnt, the treatnt we got was pretty awful.
‘Back during official events, we always stood at the very end of the line...’
Not just during ceremonies. Every day was the sa.
In the cafeteria, at cafés—if soone so much as frowned in our direction, we’d stand up and leave without a word.
We were painfully aware that we were seen as the butt of the empire’s bureaucracy.
And now, there’s nothing left but more ridicule to co.
Sure enough, the higher-ups had all been fired, and one of them had even turned out to be a spy.
It wasn’t going to get better—only worse.
They were probably already whispering things like, “Now’s the perfect ti to get rid of them...”
I tried to soothe Kibon as I spoke.
“They all passed incredibly tough exams to be here. They’re elites—it makes sense they’d look down on us.”
Salary thieves. I’d heard that phrase more tis than I could count.
“The size of a departnt is one of the indicators of its importance. And we’re down to nine people now.”
“But that’s not your fault—”
“Plus, the Tower Master parachuted in a young minister... The ridicule is wrong, sure, but the contempt? That’s inevitable.”
Expecting them to treat like a proper minister at this point was pure fantasy.
I could practically see the other ministers stewing with disapproval.
“All we’ve shown them so far is a ss. If I demand respect, it just cos off as whining.”
Sure, I’d beco a minister—but at this rate, I’d be seen as nothing more than the Tower Master’s puppet.
My staff would continue to get stepped on everywhere they went.
“So what should we do...?”
“Stop whining and overco it so other way.”
“Right, but... how?”
Kibon looked at , genuinely confused.
“We grow the departnt.”
I said it firmly.
“We have to prove it. Show everyone the Scroll Departnt can be an important agency.”
“Right, but... how?”
Kibon kept dropping his sentence endings short, but I let it go this ti. Lunch break was almost over.
I turned slowly and said,
“First thing—get funding.”
Money.
If you want to prove anything, you need money.
There are a few key ways to signal the authority of a governnt office.
Among them, aside from headcount, the most crucial is: budget allocation.
And since we were a newly restructured departnt, we didn’t even have an allocated budget yet.
“A big one.”
I’d already sent our proposal to the Ministry of Finance that morning—a little bait attached.
“A really big one.”
Now it was ti to wait.
“A huge, massive one.”
***
Namia and Kiaros returned to the office just before the end of the lunch break.
They’d basically shoveled the food into their mouths. No dessert, either.
Kiaros didn’t mind not eating properly himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how thin Namia was.
That voucher wasn’t ant for a rushed al like that...
Maybe she noticed the way he was looking, because Namia gave him a wide grin.
“I’m a minister, you know.”
Then she sat down and pointed to the clock.
“If I don’t respect work hours, I can’t expect the staff to.”
The Scroll Managent Departnt had a terrible record when it ca to attendance and hours. She was clearly trying to change the culture by example.
He stared at Namia, then suddenly spoke on impulse.
“Minister.”
“What?”
“Back at the café... what they said—you don’t have to take it to heart.”
“Hm?”
“They didn’t know how ticulous you really are...”
Just thinking about it made him furious. Talking like they knew her, when they didn’t at all...
[‘A 23-year-old minister? Who’d want to work under that?’]
[‘I wouldn’t take a team lead position under a 23-year-old minister even if you paid .’]
How could those words not hurt Namia?
But Namia—she just coolly said she’d prove herself with results and walked away.
“They’re just faceless nas mouthing off. I’m sure even royals get talked about like that.”
It was ant to be comforting.
Namia had tried to comfort him during lunch too, so he wanted to return the favor.
But there were too many things he’d learned about her lately, and his head was still reeling.
Mostly, he felt guilty.
She probably opened up like that because I wrote ‘no family’ on my records...
He had honestly been touched by her warmth.
But more than that, he was starting to feel guilty about deceiving her.
No, this is an investigation. She told herself: if I’m suspicious, I should dig. This is a public duty.
At the sa ti, he renewed another vow:
He would not forgive the Roafi barony.
He’d already ordered an investigation—but now it didn’t feel like enough.
Juan Roafi... she did all his work for him?!
That ant she leaked internal departnt docunts. That alone was enough for disciplinary action.
Breaking rules was one thing—but the fact that Juan dumped the work on her made Kiaros even angrier.
“Hmm...”
Still... had she been comforted by his words?
Kiaros watched her quietly. Her lips parted.
“They’ve been with the Education Ministry for five years.”
“...Huh?”
“I know their faces. I look at the org chart and photos whenever I have ti. I might not rember every na, but I roughly know what year they joined and where they work.”
“......”
The Education Ministry ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ wasn’t quite on the Finance Ministry’s level, but it was still a major office with high entrance scores.
But five-year employees... mocking a team leader and a minister like that?
That alone was outrageous, but Namia’s casual muttering caught him more off guard.
“They love ranking departnts. Guess I’ll rank them back when the ti cos. An eye for an eye.”
Kiaros swallowed dryly.
Namia hadn’t brushed it off. She rembered everything.
And sohow, he felt like she wouldn’t forget it, even after years.
“I don’t know all their nas, but starting from the guy on the left... Ardan, Rebon, Yudis... hang on. Let double-check the org chart.”
Namia’s eyes flashed as she pulled out the organizational diagram.
She began cross-referencing her mory with the black-and-white ID photos. One by one, she marked them with red circles.
“Seven of them... Perfect. Got them all.”
Cold sweat ran down Kiaros’s back.
And then—
BANG. The office door slamd open, and a commotion erupted outside.
“Hmm?”
Namia, who had been intently studying the org chart, lifted her head.
A startled voice from the office followed.
“Th-the Minister of Finance?! Why are you—here, of all places...?”
Kiaros furrowed his brow.
The Finance Minister? Now?
‘Why now, of all tis?’
But Namia didn’t look surprised in the slightest.
In fact, she smiled—as if she’d been waiting for this.
‘That smile...’
Kiaros involuntarily tensed. His body reacted on instinct.
That bright, beautiful smile—
It was the sa one she’d given him that morning.
The kind of smile that said she was truly glad to see you, as if she’d been waiting all along...
And—
“Like you’ve just walked straight into her trap.”
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