Chapter 43
Territorial Instincts
I learned something new today—apparently, in this place, you can get promoted in just one day.
And the news of my sudden advancement spread through the Central Administration like wildfire.
How do I know?
Because every time I walk by, people can’t stop whispering and stealing glances at me.
Of course, it sparked the inevitable backlash—the classic territorial instinct of the department members.
I mean, I’d be wary too.
After all, someone who’s supposed to spend at least a year as an assistant secretary had suddenly become a junior secretary overnight. Especially those two junior secretaries—they must be fuming.
When the Finance Minister had shown them the documents I organized and said, “She’s ready to be promoted,” none of them had dared object.
Well, it’s not like anyone can say no to a department head standing right in front of them.
Still, since there was nothing shady about my promotion, I decided to walk around confidently—let them gossip all they want. My plan remained the same: just do my own work.
“This is how you do it.”
The girl teaching me the ropes spoke in a voice as cold as ice. She wore round glasses and had her hair tied neatly into two braids.
Most of the department treated me the same way—cold, curt, and clearly displeased. Even Leo, who’d been nice on my first day, now acted distant.
But if someone asked me whether I’d rather spend a whole year doing menial assistant work, I’d still say I preferred this.
“Yes, thank you.”
The girl—Elicia Langford—snapped her notebook shut and briskly walked back to her seat.
Including me, there were three junior secretaries in the office. The frosty Elicia, myself, and a man named Lucan Fairburn.
Lucan didn’t give me a hard time or act rude, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. Which, honestly, was fine by me.
So this is what a junior secretary’s position is like… a low-level clerical job, I suppose.
If an assistant secretary handled simple errands and grunt work, the junior secretary handled slightly more advanced clerical tasks—transcribing reports into official formats, taking meeting minutes, and organizing records in the archives.
It wasn’t too complicated; just required familiarity with the terminology and procedures.
Still, what’s really going on in this department?
Earlier, right after arriving at work, I’d gone up to the Finance Department on the third floor—only to end up listening to a long list of complaints.
Apparently, they’d tried to completely remove the former Chancellor, Marcus, but the man had bribed and backed enough people that his downfall was being delayed. Even with clear evidence against him, he was playing dumb and stalling for time.
The Minister’s expression had been darker than I’d ever seen before. Calm as he usually was, there was something menacing behind that stoic face.
So the chaos in the palace really started because of him. I won’t just sit back and watch this mess.
After having a quiet lunch alone at the bureaucrats’ cafeteria, I took a slow walk around the Central Administration to lower my blood sugar.
“The view here really is something.”
It was the Imperial Palace, after all. No wonder there were so many people maintaining it. The wide-open paths and beautifully kept gardens made me wonder just how breathtaking the royal family’s private gardens must be.
In web novels, it was always some princess’s forbidden garden that caused trouble when outsiders entered—but still, it would be nice to explore someday. It wasn’t something many got to experience, and right now, I needed the mental break.
“Oh, when did it get so late?”
Checking a tall clock disguised as a lamppost, I hurried back inside. Turning the corner on the second floor, I almost bumped into someone.
I quickly stepped back—and looked up to see Lucan Fairburn.
He looked a little startled, then gave me an awkward smile and a small nod before heading toward the stairs to the third floor. He was carrying a stack of documents—likely on his way to the Finance Minister.
That’s not a good idea right now.
The Minister’s mood this morning had been worse than I’d ever seen it. Normally calm and collected, but today… something simmered beneath that poker face.
I doubted he’d lash out, but his opinion of the Chancellor’s subordinates wasn’t exactly high.
I hesitated, then called out.
“Is that something you have to report right now?”
Lucan stopped mid-step.
“Not exactly… Why?”
“If it’s not urgent, I’d recommend submitting it tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“The atmosphere up there isn’t great right now.”
Before he could ask more, I just smiled faintly and walked off.
When I returned to the office, someone muttered,
“You’re late.”
“Huh?”
I checked the wall clock—it was one minute before the end of lunch break.
“There’s still a minute left—”
“A newbie shouldn’t return later than her seniors.”
What kind of nonsense is that?
In all my years of work, I’d never heard someone scolded for not coming back early from lunch.
The man who’d been dozing in the Chancellor’s chair—an older official—suddenly stood and said he needed to “have a word” with me.
Great. Is this some kind of power trip because I got promoted too fast?
I barely knew everyone’s names yet, so I wasn’t worried—just curious what this man’s deal was.
He led me to the rooftop of the Central Administration building, where a few people were gathered, smoking from pipes.
Ah. The infamous “smoke break” culture of this world.
In my old world, we called it a “DT”—a quick cigarette and gossip break to vent stress or exchange workplace intel. The fact that someone I barely knew had called me here meant one thing: this was an unofficial conversation.
“Nothing serious,” he began, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “Just wanted to check how you’re adjusting. Everything all right? No trouble?”
Why does this feel so familiar…
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He looked at me with pity, as if I were some newborn lamb.
“Good, good. You’ll get the hang of things soon. Just hang in there a little longer, and if anything’s hard, come to me anytime.”
He patted my shoulder kindly.
“Once the new Chancellor’s decided, things will get easier. Until then, just follow my lead—I’m a First-Class Secretary, after all.”
He said that even though the Finance Minister was still acting Chancellor. Clearly, my young face made him think I was naïve.
“You know, of course,” he continued, lowering his voice, “that you were hired on the Finance Minister’s recommendation. There’s been… some unpleasantness in the Chancellor’s Department. So things are a bit unstable right now. But that’s bureaucracy for you—everything has its order. The Chancellor’s staff know best how things should run.”
Why not just say you think you’re the next Chancellor?
The delusion was strong with this one.
He reminds me of someone…
“So, if you ever need help, come to me. Our department doesn’t like people who stand out too much, you see. Innovation’s fine, but follow procedure. Pass your ideas through me, and I’ll make sure they reach the top.”
Ah, that’s it. He’s exactly like my old team leader.
The words weren’t wrong on the surface—but between the lines, it was all ego and empty promises.
Especially considering he’d just been sleeping in the Chancellor’s chair and was now fantasizing about his promotion… I didn’t need to take a genius test to know none of this “guidance” actually meant anything.
The truth was simple: my promotion had been the Finance Minister’s decision, and this man just didn’t like it.
I’ve dealt with plenty like you.
Once upon a time, those kinds of words had shaken my confidence. But not anymore.
Only the incompetent talk like this.
For a brief moment, I felt like I was back in my old office in the modern world. I shook my head to clear the illusion.
“You feeling okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Thank you for the advice, First-Class Secretary.”
“Good. Let’s work well together.”
Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Delusional.
I decided right then to give him a nickname—Dreamer, short for “the man dreaming impossible dreams.”
Two days felt like an entire month. One incident after another—chaos nonstop.
At this point, I started doubting whether this was really the department said to be filled with elites.
Feels more like a den of paycheck leeches.
When people like that pile up, anyone who joins with genuine enthusiasm—like me—can’t help but grow jaded.
Why?
Because the ones who actually work hard are the ones who burn out first.
That’s just how office life goes. That’s why good managers are rare—they need skills beyond competence.
As I watched the others pack up to leave, I quickly grabbed my bag, bowed politely, and slipped out too.
Finally, the end of the day!
At least these people were punctual about one thing—leaving on time.
This time, I headed to the third floor again, determined to finish what I’d failed to do earlier.
The Finance Department was also emptying out, people trickling away one by one. I nodded politely to those I recognized as I entered.
No one stopped or questioned me anymore.
I knocked on the Minister’s door, heard his familiar “Come in,” and stepped inside.
I was ready to confront him—to demand answers. But the moment I saw who was sitting across from him, my mind went blank.
“Oh, Cornelia from the Chancellor’s Office! Perfect timing.”
I froze mid-step.
“Just in time,” the Finance Minister said brightly. “I was about to introduce you.”
And then he gestured to the man beside him.
“This is Duke Vespera Ariadne Fortuna, Chief Justice of the Ministry of Justice.”
The Duke of Fortuna. The most eligible bachelor in the Seraphina Empire. The workaholic whose reputation terrified even the palace bureaucrats.
The same man who had once been a regular customer at my old snack bar—Daijo’s most infamous VIP.
And the same man who now…
- …was scheduled to become my next VIP client.
