Chapter 1

I Was Promoted from Bottom-Tier to Minister My name is Beelzebub. My name makes me sound important, but really, it’s too important a name for me. It once belonged to a great demon of the past, and I was given that name, common as I am, so I may one day reach those same heights. For the past 1,500 years, I’ve been quietly, plainly, and simply working as a public servant for the demon government. The post I took was in the Agricultural Policy Organization, the lower branch of the Department of Agriculture. To put it simply, it was the place that created projects and produced data for the country’s agricultural administration. For 1,500 years, I was a clerk there—basically the lowest of the lowliest bureaucrats. You might believe my record was awful or that my attitude at work was terrible, but that wasn’t true. I had stopped there intentionally. Personnel prodded me, occasionally suggesting I become a manager at least, but I turned down every offer. I told them I didn’t have those skills. According to the rules governing public servants, if the person in question refuses a promotion, they are able to stay in their position. I could never be fired, because I was a government official! I was going to live on lazily as a rank-and-file employee with no responsibilities! Some people are suited for life in the fast lane, and some aren’t. I was the latter. I didn’t feel like summoning the drive to climb the bureaucratic ladder all the way to the top, nor did I feel like having a passionate affair. It was far too much trouble, so I didn’t have the confidence to establish a household, either. And so I concentrated on working as the least important clerk—or, as they say, “the bottom tier.” I didn’t even have the caliber to stand before people, much less to stand above them. I knew that best of all. I wore clothes that were a little uglier than average, and my hair was pulled back only because it’d grown out and was bothering me. And although my eyesight was perfectly fine, I wore glasses to make me stand out even less. I was just someone in the office. I was never a topic of workplace gossip, and if I disappeared, very little would change. Of course, the men I worked with would never even consider me as an object of romantic interest. I’d managed to preserve my lifestyle of living in the shadows, undetected, for 1,500 years. It was my way of protecting myself. My only miscalculation was that my coworkers always casually came to ask me for help because I was so plain, but I just endured it as an inevitable hardship. You see, the frightening and domineering ladies stuck in middle management would never ask for help from the female employees beneath them. And a man always hesitated when it came to asking things from a beautiful, unmarried coworker. Someone else might be suspicious that he was interested in her. In that respect, I had no relation to office politics, and I was outside the fight for success. Not only that, but with my nonexistent fashion sense, I appeared to have thrown away my femininity entirely. Both men and women alike saw me as androgynous and approached me without hesitation. And as a result, I turned into the one people came to when they were in trouble. On my right, I would have an employee who didn’t know where the file room was, so I’d go with them to show them where it was; on my left, I would have someone frazzled by their boss’s very peculiar style requirements for any documents submitted, so I’d use my 1,500 years of career experience to help them. I usually just got a piece of candy as thanks. For bigger jobs, I’d often get a drink at the bar. I mean, that was fine. I was totally okay with that, if the alternative was moving up in the ranks and being saddled with more responsibility. And for that, I think I was pretty well-liked within the office. My unrefined lifestyle would get even worse when I returned to my single apartment. When I got home, I would immediately change into my roomy pajamas! Then I’d lie on the floor! And my shoes were dirty, so I’d take them off. “No shoes” was the rule in my house. On the table would be empty bottles and cups of alcohol and nuts to snack on. The pile of books in the corner of my room was collapsing, but I hadn’t put them back. If a lady friend came, she’d retreat immediately, but honestly, I didn’t have the courage to invite anyone here in the first place. I didn’t even want to invite my family over. But this tepid lifestyle suited me. My personality was perfect for these lazy, unchanging days.