SOLIRF~42

Chapter 42

First Day at Work

I headed straight to the third floor—to the Ministry of Finance—and ran right into the Minister himself.

“Ah, M-Minister Nathan Ha… C-Court?”
I blurted out his full name before I could stop myself.

He flinched, then brightened up as if welcoming an old friend.
“Oh, Cornelia from the Chancellor’s Office! The talented one!”

My smile was sharp enough to cut glass.
“You’re very different from what I heard, Minister. This feels like a scam hire.”

“Now, now, calm down.”
The Minister raised and lowered his hands in a slow motion, telling me to relax. Then he turned my shoulders back toward the Chancellor’s Office and started walking.

“I won’t share my personal opinions about the staff—you might form biases. See for yourself. But I’ll say this: that rascal Marcus caused more trouble than I realized. Hiring corruption, stealing others’ credit, bullying subordinates… the works. Now that he’s gone, the office feels… freer, I suppose. But their motivation? It’s hit rock bottom.”

He sighed, cursing under his breath about how messy the records were because Marcus hadn’t left anything organized. And since he had to manage both his ministry and this place, he admitted he couldn’t always keep an eye on things.

“Well, even so, this is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Sure, it’s nice that the tyrant’s gone, but with time, people start feeling abandoned. You can’t exactly investigate and replace a Chancellor overnight, can you?”

“So basically,” I said, pushing open the office door, “while the investigation dragged on for a day or two, everyone got used to doing nothing—and now here we are?”

“Just know that I swear I never meant to recommend you for a department in this state.”

When we stepped inside, a few people recognized the high-ranking Minister and stood up sluggishly. An older man, who’d been secretly sitting in the Chancellor’s chair, scrambled to tidy his desk.

I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for the Minister to hear, “I’ll submit my resignation.”

“Rejected,” he said flatly. “This might turn out to be a great opportunity for you.”

“What?”
Before I could protest, he pushed me forward into full view of the staff.

“Ahem. As I’ve mentioned, this is our new assistant secretary, starting today. Introduce yourself.”

Ah. Trapped.

“Hello. I’m Cornelia Libertas. I come from a very modest family—you’ve probably never heard of us. I look forward to working with you.”

The Minister gave me a sharp look as if asking, Was that really necessary? But after everything, my mood was thoroughly ruined.

At least now they won’t start poking around about my background.

The Minister forced a smile.
“Show her to her desk and explain the work.”

“Yes, of course, Minister,” replied the same older man who’d been in the Chancellor’s seat, his voice surprisingly crisp. The Minister nodded curtly, scanning the entire office. For some reason, several staff members dropped their gaze to the floor as if guilty.

“The Chancellor’s Office is a direct administrative branch under His Majesty. Imperial policies only take effect after this office stamps them with the national seal. You handle political, administrative, and legislative matters, and even the royal hiring process. It’s one of the most vital departments in the Empire—hardly a place one enters easily. I expect everyone to work with pride.”

“Yes, sir.”

The response was so flat it almost hurt to hear. The Minister patted my shoulder twice and left.

Wait—he’s leaving me here? Just like that?

I stared helplessly at the door, feeling betrayed, when a voice spoke up behind me.

“Cornelia, was it?”

It was the older man from before. Since it was my first day, I answered politely.
“Yes, sir.”

“Take that empty desk over there. The assistant secretaries will explain the rest. Go on.”

Then he simply walked away. Not to the Chancellor’s seat this time, thankfully.

I placed my bag down on the empty desk and swallowed a laugh.
That’s it? No introductions? No briefing?

Usually, when you join a company, everyone introduces themselves so you can learn names, positions, and who’s who. That way, you know whom to ask when you’re lost. Here? Nothing. It was like being dropped in a maze and told, Figure it out.

Even my old X-Office job wasn’t this bad.

The reputation of the Imperial Chancellor’s Office was weeping. But on the outside, I calmly unpacked my things.

Just then, a boy around my age at the next desk spoke to me.
“Hey. You must be a bit overwhelmed, huh? I’m Leo.”

Finally—a normal human being.

“I joined not too long ago myself, recommended by the Minister. He said to look after you.”

Well, at least someone’s still got a conscience.

“If you have any questions, just ask. I’ll help however I can.”

Since I didn’t have much to unpack, I asked about my duties.

“We assist the senior secretaries—mostly errands, organizing or copying incoming administrative documents. That kind of thing.”

A glorified errand-runner and human copy machine, got it.

As I nodded, my eyes caught on something beside the desk—a mint-colored stone embedded like a mouse pad. Leo’s desk had one too.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, that? It’s a department communication artifact.”

“Communication artifact?”

“Yeah. The central ministries are huge, so this works kind of like an internal messenger. Think of it as magical note-passing. You write a message, mark the recipient’s department and name, and it pops up on their artifact.”

A magical office messenger. Now this I like.

It wouldn’t work for large files, but perfect for scheduling meetings or alerts.

Leo then brought over a stack of papers and showed me how to copy and organize them.

So basically, organized plagiarism.

He told me to call him if I needed help, then returned to his seat. I skimmed the files, then glanced around the office. Maybe the Minister’s little speech had done something—people actually looked like they were working now.

I came here to work, so I’ll work.

This time, though, I changed my strategy.

In my previous job, I’d preferred to blend in quietly, follow the mood, and not stand out. But after seeing this mess? No, thank you. These people didn’t even pretend to care about teamwork. There wasn’t a single mentor worth learning from.

I’m just an assistant secretary. I’ll do my job—and nothing else.

If things went south, I could always cry my way back to Lady Chiara.

By lunchtime, Leo invited me to eat with him, but I declined. My stomach was in knots.

As if I could eat right now.

I’ll admit—food is a sacred part of work life. But eating with these people? I’d probably choke. I hadn’t expected kindness, but somewhere deep down, I’d hoped the Imperial Chancellor’s Office would be… better.

Focus, Cornelia. Just work.

I went through the documents Leo had given me, sorting them by category and date. I added subheadings to make them clearer and rewrote the sentences so they were concise and formal, without filler particles or casual tone.

The work was simple, but it was good for clearing my mind. My enchanted fountain pen glided effortlessly across the parchment. I got so absorbed that when the report suddenly slipped out of my hand, I blinked in confusion.

“Huh?”

When I looked up, the Minister of Finance was standing right in front of my desk.

“What kind of assistant doesn’t even notice her superior walking in? Protesting something?”

He flipped through the papers I’d organized. Then, after a long silence, he picked up another set—someone else’s—and compared them.

What’s he thinking? I didn’t change the format that much.

I’d only adjusted things enough to make them readable—nothing radical.

Finally, he handed the file back to me.
“Starting tomorrow, you’ll report to the Secretariat.”

“…Pardon?”

Every head in the Chancellor’s Office turned toward me. I’d sworn not to care about anything outside my work, but I hadn’t expected this.

“A promotion,” the Minister said, smiling slyly.