SOLIRF~65

Chapter 65

The New Junior Copyist’s Shocking Atrocity

What on earth am I looking at?

Even when I blinked and blinked again, the sight didn’t change—he was definitely clipping his nails.

I turned toward Senior Lucius, who had greeted the newcomer in an attempt to explain the situation. He was giving me a look that said, You saw that too, right? Then he gestured for me to step out for a moment.

“He’s the new junior copyist.”

“Was he recommended by the Minister of Finance? If that’s the case, I’m going to march over to the Treasury and file a complaint asking them to take him back.”

“Unfortunately, he came in through the experienced-hire exam.”

“What, and nobody realized during the interview what kind of person he is?!”

“When the Minister and I saw him, he looked completely normal.”

Right. In a world overflowing with people who write self-glorifying résumés, everyone acts like they’ll sacrifice themselves for the company during interviews.

Experienced hires don’t have a probation period, so to fire them you need a very clear reason—either they’ve ticked off upper management or committed a serious mistake.

“Can’t we at least warn him to clip his nails at home? That’s just common sense. Who clips their nails in the office during work hours? It’s not even the bathroom.”

“You’re not wrong,” Lucius said, nodding, a gentle smile on his lips. “And yes, I already said so. He insists he doesn’t see the problem. It’s not against any regulation, and apparently, this ‘helps him focus.’”

“…What? What sort of person says that?”

I sighed deeply in the middle of my sentence.

Sure, as someone who lived through the trenches of K-office culture, I had seen people like him. Nail-clippers in the workplace were a constant source of debate—most people opposed it, but there was always that strange minority who claimed it was fine. I was firmly against it. This was a hygiene issue. The first time I encountered this type, I was genuinely shocked.

Clip them at home, why clip them here? It’s disgusting… If you’re going to do this, just go all the way and scrub your whole body in the office instead.

Still, I couldn’t very well start a war over nail-clipping. I figured I’d just try to ignore it. If he’d just go to the bathroom for a minute while clipping them, that would be enough. And with how short-staffed we were, forcing someone to leave their desk felt wasteful.

“Just fingernails, right? Then… I’ll try to endure it.”

“……”

But the wrinkle between Lucius’s brows only deepened.

“No way… toenails too?”

That was crossing a major line. Lucius gave me a look of spiritual resignation as he spoke.

“Cornelia, you’d better see it for yourself.”

In the one week I’d been reporting full-time to the Chancellor’s Office, I realized how arrogant I’d been to believe my experience as a K-office worker had prepared me for anything.

No way… Is this real?

The new junior copyist was a man named Tom Hank, in his early thirties. Young enough, yet with greasy hair and that classic office-worker belly. His fingernail-clipping was almost… neat, in a way.

But the toenails—he really clipped them. I genuinely almost threw up and had to run to the bathroom.

“Chup, chup.”

During team lunch, he smacked his lips and splattered bits of food everywhere as he ate.

“Hrk.”

And during work, he let out massive burps like someone chugging soda. That time, I truly sprinted to the bathroom. He also touched his feet—a lot. Constantly. I was beyond grateful my desk was beside Senior Victor’s.

As a self-proclaimed seasoned office worker, I thought nothing could shake me—but the last few days had left me barely functioning.

“I think your report is missing a section.”

It got so bad that my draft for the Concealment Division came back with corrections. I even found myself longing for the days assigned to the Concealment Division.

“Cornelia, are you okay?”

Rukan handed me a chilled tea with a worried expression. A sip helped settle my churning stomach.

“Thanks. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m managing.”

He pulled a pair of earplugs from his pocket and showed them off. A brilliant strategy—just stop hearing anything unpleasant.

But… is this right?

One person causes all this, and the rest of us resort to these pathetic survival tactics. Even from a manager, this would be too much.

“…Where did you get those?”

Even so, I couldn’t help asking for the source. Anything to reduce stress, right?

I had once asked Victor if this wasn’t grounds for a formal complaint.

“Nail clipping, loud eating, burping… it’s hard to tell the Minister to fire someone for just that. His work performance is spotless. And the Chancellor’s Office is drowning in work right now…”

Even Victor—who outwardly looked like a bear but was surprisingly sensitive—didn’t look well. Lucius, ironically, was the less sensitive one.

That was when—

“Pffft.”

I froze mid-conversation with Rukan.

…Did I just hear what I think I heard?

Everyone—assistant clerks, copyists, even senior clerks—froze where they sat.

It had to be an accident. Bodily functions happen. We could pretend not to notice.

“Pffff.”

No. Judging from that serene expression on his face, he did it deliberately. And while sound fades, smell lingers. Whatever he’d eaten could have killed a small animal. I bolted for the bathroom—this time, I wasn’t the only one.

Trying to catch my breath, my mind drifted to the job the Duke had once offered me in the Ministry of Justice.

If this continues, I’m seriously going to lose it.

I needed a plan. But the moment I opened the bathroom door to step out, someone blocked me.

Cascading honey-gold pigtails. The very woman who had freed us from the Chancellor’s Office hazing tradition.

“Elicia?”

Her face was completely drained of color. Even her usually perfectly aligned glasses were crooked.

“Clerk.”

Her formal address startled me, but now that my rank was higher, I accepted it with composure. She grabbed my arms desperately.

“You’re the only one who can fix this.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I can’t take it anymore. I’ll do anything—please get rid of that bastard. Tom or Hans or whatever his name is.”

“…What??”

I suddenly felt like an assassin receiving a contract. But her trembling arms said everything. And come to think of it—her desk was right next to his.

“If you do this… I’ll never forget the favor…”

I’d only suffered a week—she’d endured at least a month. And I already disliked the guy. Now I had a legitimate reason.

“Calm down, Elicia. We’ll think of something.”

I didn’t know why she’d chosen me, but fine. This was perfect timing.

I felt my motivation return.

Even after work, sitting in the retirement café, my thoughts continued.

The guy was a full course. Most people have one terrible habit—he had the entire sampler set.

His reputation had already spread to other departments.

“Clerk Cornelia, I heard your department adopted a mutt.”

As soon as I arrived at the Concealment Division, Treasurer Leila walked up and said that. I corrected her: calling him a dog was too kind—please stick to just filth. She accepted without argument.

What was maddening was that, in my experience, people like him were always incompetent—but he was the opposite. His work had zero flaws. There went our strongest justification.

Either I make him reflect… or I drive him out.

The latter would be simpler, but expelling someone who hadn’t technically done wrong left a sour taste.

I still didn’t have a good plan, so I asked my weekly VIP customer, pretending it was about a “friend.”

“If it were the old me, I’d have said it wasn’t my business. But this… seems similar to my own speech correction.”

“Similar?”

The little lamb nodded.

“He lowers the morale of the entire department. On the surface, one might say that if his work is fine, nothing else matters. But if he damages the mental state of his coworkers and reduces productivity, then accepting feedback becomes necessary.”

“…That’s true.”

Hearing it like that, it didn’t seem so different. But there was one crucial difference.

“You, little lamb, were a superior who wanted to improve. My friend’s guy has no intention of changing.”

“Making the unwilling willing is not my specialty.”

“I knooow~.”

“…You’re irritating me.”

I wondered if we should just give him a private office. But giving a junior copyist what even department heads didn’t get would cause a political disaster.

When things are urgent, sometimes you need to slow down.

I felt bad for Elicia, but I decided to watch a bit longer. Maybe time would create a new opportunity.

A tense, icy atmosphere settled over the Concealment Division.

Officials watched each other carefully, unable to speak.

“Clerk Cornelia’s proposal is a delusion. It’s like she lives in another world. You can’t run things based purely on efficiency. Clearly she doesn’t suit imperial bureaucracy.”

“I simply offered a suggestion to prevent wasted effort. It’s not that I don’t suit the central ministries—they’re the ones clogged and outdated.”

The Supreme Judge and the now-infamous Second-Class Clerk were glaring daggers at each other.