However, Yohia had no idea what his younger brother was truly feeling.
Even if it’s for the sake of the empire, the fact that I must force my precious little brother to suffer... he thought to himself. No, no matter what, I have no right to ask for forgiveness.
After Zen left the office, Yohia let out a sigh—subtly, so as not to arouse suspicion from his four secretaries. The youngest (although still twenty-nine) secretary in particular was staring at him as if she had something to say. Once Yohia told them all to take a break, he gave her the opening to speak her thoughts.
“If I remember correctly, you hold my brother in high regard,” he said.
“Indeed, Your Excellency,” she replied. “I thought that if my plans to become a chancellor by the age of forty ever failed, it’d be because my superior, Zen, had outdone me.”
This proud woman was a member of another noble family of bureaucrats, as well as a genius who’d topped the Advanced Civil Service Exam one term after Zen took it.
“None of my colleagues are my rivals,” she continued. “That goes without saying for my juniors as well. If there is someone worthy enough to contest me, it’d only be Zen.”
“I do think you’re thinking too highly of him, though,” said Yohia. “The reality is that he’s never once received a promotion, unlike you, and now he’s reached the end of his career as a government official before thirty.”
“With all due respect, Your Excellency, do you really think so? I wouldn’t be surprised if Zen learned a thing or two and came back to the imperial capital a new man,” she said. She spoke her mind without an ounce of cowardice, even to Yohia, who was a minister. In fact, she didn’t hide her accusing gaze that said, Don’t you think demoting Zen was too rash?
Yohia’s subordinate’s bluntness prompted him to think, While there are those who gossip that Zen’s nothing more than some spent tea leaves, there are others who see him for who he is.
Instead of taking offense, his mouth twitched up into a smile. It was only natural; there was no way he wouldn’t be happy hearing someone praise his precious little brother. And this woman wasn’t the only one who appreciated him.
Yohia turned his attention to the document he’d been leafing through earlier and flipped through it once again. It was the written report he’d made Zen’s superior at the Tax Bureau turn in—the bureau that Zen had been working at until just yesterday.
The Tax Bureau monitored and controlled the immense amount of taxes collected every year in the great country of Catalan, and numerous government officials who were particularly skilled at calculations worked there. Among them were even geniuses at mental arithmetics. This report detailed how Zen just couldn’t keep up and even struggled with some of the easiest, most mundane jobs.
Nevertheless, his superior had given him high praise. He’d adapted to his responsibilities in only half a year, and since then, he’d grown just enough to be considered a capable worker. Above all else, Zen’s cheerful personality lightened the mood in the workplace.
That last remark was just like how you’d praise a child, but it absolutely could not be dismissed. That was because every year, there were many workers who’d have nervous breakdowns or collapse from overwork at the Tax Bureau, which was swamped with managing a dizzying amount of numbers. The atmosphere of that department was always tense. It was an everyday sight to see staff members muttering to themselves with hollow eyes while clinging to their desks. Nobody spoke to their colleagues, nor did they even meet each other’s eyes.
However, Zen breathed new life into that environment. He actively talked to his colleagues, took them out for lunch, and organized drinking parties to commemorate them for their efforts. At first, he’d been shunned for getting in the way of their work, but everyone soon opened up to him. That was all because of Zen’s personality.
He’s always been well-liked, Yohia thought to himself. It was written in the report that friendly conversation now often livened up that workplace, where an oppressive silence used to be the norm. It didn’t really affect their duties negatively; nobody clung to their desks anymore, and indeed, they did work fewer hours, but everyone had regained their energy thanks to this kind, human environment, and the efficiency of their labor had improved dramatically. In the past half a year, the job turnover and suicide rates that chronically plagued the bureau had been significantly lowered.
But Zen can’t be given endless praise. It must be remembered that he’d just barely sufficed as a finance official. To the Human Resources Agency, anything unrelated to the actual business affairs of the workplace wasn’t in a category that could be evaluated.
However, the written report concluded with this: “All in all, I’d like Zen to continue working at the Tax Bureau for a long time.”
There were probably no greater words of praise that a superior could give.
Nonetheless, Yohia had decided to send Zen to the countryside. Of course there was a reason. The same went for how he’d handed him off from one post to the next. He’d done that knowing it’d hinder his ability to get a promotion. Yohia, who dealt with human resources, was behind it all. He could never reveal that fact to another family, though, nor could he tell his little brother himself.
I’m sorry, Zen, but this is all for the sake of this country’s future.
That was why, as the empire’s strict chancellor, he had to throw away his feelings for his own flesh and blood. He remained undaunted under the gaze of his subordinate that criticized Zen’s demotion.
Then he crushed the report from the Tax Bureau and threw that away as well.