Chapter 66
When Two People Collide
It had definitely started out as a pleasant morning.
Just the fact that I was reporting to the Hidden Bureau instead of the Chancellor’s Office made my whole condition feel lighter. But the moment I sat down and looked at the documents on my desk, a headache bloomed behind my eyes.
What is this—some chaotic back-alley workshop?
When I worked only within the Chancellor’s Office, I hadn’t noticed it as much. But now that multiple departments were collaborating, the problems became painfully obvious.
Each department’s format is completely different.
Every report came in a different structure, layout, and style. There wasn’t even a clear highlight on important sections, so every time I read a document, it felt like opening a brand-new form. And since we didn’t have a copier, I couldn’t mark anything freely. With the trial period for the Noble Asset Registration Act underway, there were plenty of progress and preparation reports that needed to be written — which made everything worse.
“Secretary Cornelia, I’ll review this report first, then pass it to Aide Illya. After that, the Supreme Judge will check it, send it along to the other department heads, then His Majesty’s aide will receive it and finally present it to His Majesty.”
The second problem was the reporting hierarchy. Even for a trivial report, there were too many mountains to climb.
Since I was the one who proposed this legislation, I often had to take the lead in drafting the reports. But even as the actual person handling the work, I wasn’t allowed to report directly to the head of the Hidden Bureau — the Supreme Judge. Everything needed to pass through a First-Class official and their aide before reaching him. And once the document went to His Majesty, we had to rewrite it again to make it visually neat.
The Minister of Finance arranging a private meeting between me and the Supreme Judge last time was truly exceptional. And the Emperor summoning me… that only happened because he’s personally interested in this bill.
With every tiny issue handled like this, no wonder the work progressed at a snail’s pace. The other officials clearly knew it too, but they’d done this for so long they barely felt the inconvenience anymore. At this rate, we’d waste a whole year on pointless tasks and end up with nothing but ineffective administrative scraps. The inefficiency was staggering.
And then, things went wrong.
“Coco, I’m all done preparing. All that’s left is for me to infuse my mana into this seal. After that, you can use it freely until it needs recharging. Shall we start?”
Aidan had come from the Magic Tower after completing the preparations. As expected of the next Tower Master, he drew the magic circle and embedded his mana into the seal in no time.
“Before that, I need to report upstairs first. Please wait just a little.”
He tilted his head.
“Wasn’t everything already reported? You checked and double-checked before I came. Why can’t you just do it first and report after?”
My thoughts exactly.
But the Duke, who’d accompanied him, cut in.
“There are internal procedures. Wait.”
“We don’t have the luxury of time, Supreme Judge. Isn’t this something we should finish quickly?”
When the Duke insisted on waiting, even the cheerful Aidan let out a small sigh.
“Fine. Then Coco, let’s have lunch together later!”
Since he took on the request partly as a favor to me, I intended to agree gladly.
“You’re on duty. Eat with your aide instead.”
…What?
Was eating with an external collaborator not part of work? If anything, we should be treating him better. Department heads regularly met internal and external people for meals — it was nothing unusual.
I’m a mere secretary, sure, but it’s not like I’m trying to skip work to play. Even this isn’t allowed? Seriously?
Annoyance pricked at me.
Aidan only smiled brightly.
“What a shame. I agreed to this because I thought I’d get to see Coco more often, but if you’re this stingy… well, can’t be helped. I’ll ask you out on a proper date later.”
Then he left with his aide, cheerful as ever. Letting him walk out like that felt embarrassing — and guilt-inducing.
That afternoon, when the report concerning the Magic Tower certification was added to the agenda of the Hidden Bureau’s meeting, I finally had to bring it up. It was the only time a lower-ranking official was permitted to speak.
“Supreme Judge, I have a work-related proposal. May I speak?”
He gave a brief, indifferent nod.
“I request a simplified reporting pathway that allows the working-level official to deliver reports directly to the decision-maker. The reason is that even after submitting the major report for the legislation, small but time-sensitive matters — such as who is visiting and what preparations are complete — end up taking excessive time to confirm. Tasks that take ten minutes stretch into two days.”
Other working officials nodded in agreement.
“That all?”
Oh, if only.
“I also request simplified report templates and standardized formats. Because each department uses a different style, it takes significant time to understand and reorganize the information. Our bureau includes members from many departments, making this issue worse. Since interdepartmental cooperation will only increase, unified formats would improve efficiency greatly. It would also remove the need to rewrite reports when they move up the chain. Even if only our bureau adopts this, it would help.”
The Duke listened quietly, then closed the document he’d been holding — as if none of it was worth hearing.
“Why do you think we have intermediate reporting stages? Reducing them undermines authority. I admit it can be inconvenient, but I cannot allow it. And the reporting formats have been established over decades of tradition. We must respect that.”
I responded immediately.
“Of course, significant matters must be reported. But I am speaking about minor issues. Reporting trivial matters doesn’t give middle managers more authority. The Magic Tower visit was already approved — why must it be relayed through several people again? And regarding report formats, prioritizing efficiency would allow us to process more cases. Maintaining outdated forms simply because they’re tradition results in more work piling up.”
“So you claim the Empire’s methods, upheld by generations of your seniors, are wrong?”
“They’re not wrong. They need to be changed to fit modern needs.”
“Unbelievable.”
The Duke rose from his seat.
“Secretary Cornelia’s opinions are delusional. It’s as if you alone live in another world. You cannot run an imperial administration by chasing efficiency alone. Perhaps you are simply not suited to serve as a royal bureaucrat.”
I knew he was conservative… but this much?
“I offered suggestions because wasting time is unnecessary. It’s not that I don’t fit — it’s that the central administrative process itself is hopelessly clogged.”
“Is rewriting a report once more truly that difficult? Or do you simply want to leave early?”
My temper snapped.
Does he think working late magically increases competence?
“I have never abandoned my duties to go home early. If something needs doing, I work overtime without being told. And yes — sharing a warm dinner with my family is more meaningful than doing the same task over and over again.”
“If authority is weakened, the system collapses.”
“I genuinely don’t understand how improving efficiency weakens anyone’s authority. We could handle more tasks, more quickly.”
“Hah. And this from a secretary who’s been in the central government only a few months, pretending to know everything.”
“You reached your position in just two years, Supreme Judge. It seems time isn’t the deciding factor.”
The air grew icy, tension coiling tight.
“Secretary Cornelia, stop. You’ve crossed the line,” Simon whispered, tugging at my arm.
“You should cool your head,” the Duke said, grabbing his documents before striding out. The slam of the door revealed the frustration he hadn’t shown on his face.
“What were you thinking, Secretary! What if the Supreme Judge retaliates!” Illya the aide flailed in panic.
“I only stated my opinion.”
I hadn’t expected him to accept everything — but the backlash was stronger than I anticipated.
“These old geezers hate change,” Layla from Finance sighed.
“You’re not wrong. We work late every night making endless reports, and barely anything moves forward. Still… I didn’t think you’d ram into him head-on. I thought you weren’t that type.”
Calmer now, I shrugged.
“We have all these layers of tiny reports, but when real problems arise, everyone just avoids responsibility. It’s pointless. And I know the Supreme Judge works hard — I wasn’t criticizing his efforts. I simply don’t want him or the rest of us wasting time and energy. We’re not machines. That’s all.”
I hadn’t expected things to escalate like that — but I didn’t regret speaking up. If I planned to stay in this place long-term, I would have had to say these things eventually.
Still… I should’ve handled it with more composure.
Arguing like a childish twenty-something? Embarrassing. Even if I was right.
