Zen’s colleagues liked to bad-mouth him behind his back, saying he was “a minor official whose only merit was his personality.” He’d also been told to his face once that “Your three older siblings are incredible, yet it’s like you’re nothing but some spent tea leaves.” The dregs of his family, in other words.
He had actually been born to the noble family of Leadon, which had produced many ministers and capable officials over the generations. Despite that, he’d only just barely managed to pass the Advanced Civil Service Exam at the age of fifteen and had been living life as a government official with no hopes of promotion ever since.
By the time he was twenty-nine years old, he’d been passed around all over the imperial capital’s central government system. To say it negatively, he was treated as a gofer, but even when put nicely, he was a “jack-of-all-trades” at best. He spent his years so perpetually inundated with exhausting tasks, he had no chance to even try climbing the corporate ladder.
He had no time for love either. His colleagues who’d passed the civil service exam at the same time as him were all set on the steady path to becoming elites, even building happy families.
At the drinking party the other day, they ridiculed him, asking, “You got another transfer notice?” and “Are you trying to dip your toes into every government agency?”
✦ ✦ ✦
Today was October 1st, of the year 117 on the Catalan Imperial Calendar.
It was the fall season, with the leaves on the trees all changing colors along the main street. Zen was on his way to present himself at the palace to receive the details of his new transfer, and this time they would even be handed to him personally by the Chancellor of Ceremonial Affairs (the minister in charge of human resources). Wondering what his next particular post would be, Zen steeled his resolve.
When the Goldragan Palace was first completed, the first emperor Julian’s sworn friend, a dragon with gold scales, had inadvertently left behind big claw marks the moment it landed on the castle tower’s rooftop. However, rather than as an accident, the event was spun as an auspicious blessing, and the palace was thus given its name.
Immediately through the entrance of this historic palace was a front court where the head offices of the six ministries were located, including that of the Chancellor of Ceremonial Affairs. Not even a second after Zen knocked, a youthful yet stern voice said, “Come in.”
Zen straightened his posture and entered the room; however, he wasn’t tense at all. This was because although the Chancellor of Ceremonial Affairs stood in a position far above him, the man himself was none other than Zen’s own older brother.
The two got along favorably, and they’d enjoyed dinner together at their family home just last night. However, he was someone who made a distinction between his work and personal life, so he hadn’t told Zen anything about what the notice entailed.
He was Yohia, the eldest of the four Leadon siblings, and to put it shortly, he was a monster of politics. He’d been in office for ten years and had become a minister when he was only twenty-eight years old, making him the youngest ever recorded—even in the famed Leadon family—which was quite exceptional. He was completely different from Zen, who’d never risen beyond the position of a minor government official.
Indeed, the two were different even down to their looks. They shared the same parents and had similar facial features, yet compared to Zen, whose appearance was quite unremarkable, Yohia had genuinely good looks that boasted an aura of competence. No matter how much time passed, others would snicker at Zen, saying, “Your uniform is wearing you,” but Yohia wore the extravagant silks of his Chancellor of Ceremonial Affairs uniform like he was “completely dominating” them.
That outstanding older brother of his began speaking in a cool tone of voice. “Given that we’re brothers, let’s skip the formalities. Allow me to cut to the chase.” His attitude reflected that he was currently busy and wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
If that’s how Your Excellency the Chancellor feels, then there was no need to bother calling me here, Zen thought, holding back a wry smile.
In public, his brother had a reputation for being strict to the point of ruthlessness, but Zen knew very well that it was only because his sense of justice regarding work was unparalleled, and that his true nature was that of a compassionate person. Even his words and attitude right now were imbued with a consideration that said, Because of my position, I’ll have to say some harsh things today, so prepare yourself. Yohia was going out of his way to preface the news so it wouldn’t come as too much of a shock. Also, the very fact that it was from his lips directly rather than via a letter was done out of consideration for Zen.
There were four secretaries appointed to the minister’s office who worked alongside each other, and partially because they were present, Yohia continued with his businesslike attitude. “It seems that at your current post as well, you’ve worked hard at your various duties,” he said as he flipped through the pages of a document. It was probably a report he’d made Zen’s superior write, which no doubt gave a detailed statement of how hard he’d worked at keeping ledgers at the Tax Bureau in the Financial Affairs Agency for the past six months.
“How long do you intend to keep this up?” Yohia asked.
“As long as there’s work in front of me,” Zen replied. “So...until my mandatory retirement?”
“I don’t mean all these odd jobs. I’m asking when you’re going to be promoted?”
Zen shrank in on himself. Yohia’s words were like a slap to the face.
You’re the top dog of the Human Resources Agency, so you could just promote me, he grumbled internally, but he knew that wasn’t the issue. No matter how much authority Yohia held, he’d be criticized for nepotism if he promoted his little brother who lacked any great achievements. Catalan was still very much a meritocracy, even one hundred years after its founding.
Yohia was essentially telling Zen to do something spectacular to distinguish himself, but if that were so easy, no one would ever struggle. His colleagues did their jobs in moderation while also honing their skills, making connections, and drafting proposals to bid on national projects. That was how they were speeding down the highway to become elites.
On the other hand, Zen was the type to put his all into his work. He didn’t have the talent to get it done with half the effort either. As a result, although he was technically a central bureaucrat, he was swamped every day with duties that were ridiculed as odd jobs. Then, once he could finally handle the actual work of his assigned bureau, he’d immediately receive a transfer notice to his next post.
In addition, they were all senseless transfers to posts with responsibilities that had little connection to one another, with Zen being shipped from the Construction Agency’s Municipal Bureau to the Library Department of the Education Agency, or from the Judicial Bureau to the Mint. He was just being juggled around. Even so, he never voiced his complaints.