World domination felt like such a cliché, third-rate-villain kind of goal that I actually tried thinking it through seriously.
But I stopped myself before I got very far.
No. Let’s not.
Let’s not dig too deep into this.
There’s only one thing I actually want: the complete dissolution of the Black Spoon Division, and my own resignation.
Which means today, I am clocking out on time. No excuses!
I twisted my hair up into a messy bun, jabbed a pencil through it for good measure, and threw myself into work like it was a battle.
5:30 PM.
5:45 PM.
And finally, 5:58 PM.
Yes! Time to start packing up and get ready to head ou—
Just as I started to rise from my seat—
The door opened, with absolutely murderous timing.
“Miss Rowell, Mr. Finley. Good to see you both.”
The male lead and the mastermind were back.
“Everyone’s worked so hard these past few days.”
The mastermind was smiling pleasantly, so why did that smile feel so terrifying?
“The Prime Minister would like to see us all.”
With exactly two minutes left before I could clock out, I quietly set my bag back down.
Why did people in high places…
love the evening hours so much?
Marquess Ruella Halifax.
The empire allowed women to inherit titles, but she’d been the first to ever climb all the way to Prime Minister.
Under normal circumstances, she’d have stayed a career official and retired at some appropriate point.
Hah, and let the empire fall apart in the meantime?
She’d been thoroughly disappointed by an Imperial family lazy down to the bone, and thoroughly disgusted by an endless parade of incompetent officials.
[I refuse to stand by and watch this empire run itself into the ground!]
So she’d dug in her heels and clawed her way to the Prime Minister’s seat, and stayed there.
She didn’t care that everyone called her a vicious woman for it.
[Not if it means a fairer empire than the one we had yesterday.]
It was only natural that the Imperial Faction resented her, given she’d come up through the Noble Faction.
Tch. If the Imperial family weren’t so hopeless, none of this would even be necessary.
The current Emperor Arpelt had actually seemed promising, at first.
We might have built a decent working relationship. Right up until something spooked him badly enough to shut himself away in the palace.
These past few years, he hadn’t so much as shown his face at a single public event!
Strange, all of it. The Emperor, and his only daughter, both.
But tonight, at least, she wasn’t going to let herself dwell on any of that.
There were people who deserved recognition, and she had to see to it properly!
“Truly excellent work on this one, Minister Crowe. Team Leader Rupesk, as well.”
Carlyle and Edgar gave a light bow in front of her.
“An honor, Your Excellency.”
“Hmph, and just when the empire finally found a bit of stability, along come idiots like these.”
Ruella frowned as she read through the Black Spoon Division’s report.
The Seres Order. “For the sake of a glorious past” — that phrase sounded genuinely dangerous.
Trying to drag us back to the days the Imperial family reigned absolute, is that it.
Trying to wipe out the Noble Faction entirely, perhaps?
“Utterly absurd. Use whatever means necessary, but root out whoever’s behind this.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“By the way, I hear the new hires held up remarkably well through all of this too.”
Ruella looked toward the two new officials standing quietly in the corner of her office.
“Seamus Finley. I’ve already heard plenty about your reputation. Impressive, starting off this strong.”
“…Thank you.”
His tone made it perfectly clear he had zero interest in the Prime Minister’s opinion of him.
But that was typical of anyone raised at the Mage Tower, so it didn’t bother her in the slightest.
Her real interest lay elsewhere, anyway.
“Now, let’s see, this one is…”
She deliberately let her voice trail off, as if she couldn’t recall, and Carlyle stepped forward.
“This is Leila Rowell, Your Excellency.”
“Ahh…”
“She contributed enormously to this operation.”
Ruella’s eyebrows lifted at Carlyle’s introduction.
Oh ho. Look at this.
Carlyle’s tone stayed even, but it was obvious he wanted everyone to know just how proud he was.
Carlyle Rupesk — who’d tossed aside every ounce of noble dignity to live and breathe nothing but work!
“Right, Leila Rowell, was it.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Excellency.”
“Ha, spirited, aren’t you. Quite the trial by fire, so soon after joining.”
“It hasn’t been so bad, but I’m glad to hear you say so all the same.”
“Hm.”
Ruella studied the woman across from her, quick and assessing.
Leila Rowell, commoner orphan. Dead last in class 218.
Her exam scores had all but guaranteed a career going nowhere.
I’d assumed she was the type who’d coast along and resign eventually.
And yet this classified report was full of her ability and her contributions.
Investigated the kidnappers’ behavior on her own initiative, submitted Rupesk a report over fifteen pages long… and then went out into the field herself?
Edgar had quietly scrubbed anything about her “ability to see cores” from the report he’d submitted to the Prime Minister.
Even so, the Leila Rowell described in what remained was still a remarkably driven talent.
Ruella felt a genuine satisfaction at having her own judgment proven right.
Who knew?
Maybe, one day, the empire would see its second female Prime Minister.
And look at those eyes of hers, even now.
Dead-looking as they were — did that really mean a lack of passion?
No! It meant someone who knew to guard against her own recklessness.
Acting like a seasoned veteran, despite being fresh off the boat!
“A hidden gem, if I’ve ever seen one. No wonder so many other departments wanted her for themselves.”
“Other departments?”
Carlyle’s face twisted, sharp and sudden, like someone about to have a junior stolen right out from under him.
But Ruella just shrugged.
“The Magical Herb Research Lab, for one.”
“…!”
“Lord Wordsworth was furious about losing out on a talent like her.”
…In truth, even she had been caught off guard by just how furious Theodore had gotten.
[How is it acceptable to poach someone from me like this?]
After Edgar took Leila Rowell into the Black Spoon Division, Theodore had come storming in, absolutely livid.
She’d genuinely thought he was about to tear the Prime Minister’s office apart.
It was the first time she’d ever seen a man that easygoing and good-natured lose his temper like that.
Though he did calm down and leave, eventually.
She pushed the memory aside and raised a hand.
“Well then. Success ought to be celebrated properly — with good meat and good drink.”
A diamond-plated card materialized, glittering between her two fingers.
The Prime Minister’s own corporate card.
“Go on, spend freely tonight. There’s no limit on it!”
Damn it… I knew this was going to happen.
Someone who’d spent thirty years working at the same company had been through more than a few company dinners in her time.
You hand someone a card and tell them to spend — of course they’re going to spend it!
And so, the place the mastermind dragged us off to for our “first company dinner” was…
I’ll admit it, honestly — it was genuinely gorgeous.
The ceiling was entirely glass, open to the night sky, and the restaurant’s indoor fountain and flowering trees shimmered under the chandelier light.
The four of us were shown to a private room with a full view of the whole scene.
“Please enjoy your evening. Call anytime if you need anything.”
The female staff member who showed us in shot me a look dripping with envy.
I wonder what kind of story she was imagining, looking at this group.
The black-haired, red-eyed, single most handsome mentor in this entire world.
The noble, elegant, ever-smiling beauty of a mastermind.
The decadently languid coworker.
And, the only woman thrown into the mix — me.
Trade seats with me right now, miss. Please.
I promise you, none of this is any kind of honor from where I’m sitting.
That was when the mastermind smiled and picked up his glass.
“Getting together like this might feel a little awkward, but if we’re going to keep working well together going forward, it’s worth having.”
…Why did it feel like his gaze kept sliding toward me, specifically?
The mastermind’s grin widened, and he raised his glass higher.
“Well then. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“…”
“Yes, cheers.”
The sheer, suffocating awkwardness that hung over the room as we all raised our glasses—
I genuinely thought I might die from it.
Damn it. Just let this end already!
Let’s all cut the meat, eat fast, and go our separate ways.
Praying for exactly that, I threw back my drink in one go.
…And that was when I realized I’d overlooked three crucial facts.
First.
Since coming to terms with my “past life,” I’d never once had this empire’s alcohol, so I had no idea just how strong it was.
Second.
Leila’s liver, as it currently stood, had never had a single drop of alcohol touch it. Completely pure.
Third.
I have a drinking problem. Not that kind — the other kind. The kind where a completely different person shows up the moment the alcohol kicks in.
