7.
Some of the staff were Donovan’s lackeys, the kind who would grant favors if you knew how to stroke his ego.
It had to be done in secret.
Fortunately for me, the office was a ruin; the desks were in total disarray. The Minister of the Ministry Of Finance had returned late, barked orders for us to clean up, and vanished in a flash.
*‘He’s probably gone to beg some powerful person to at least ensure his own skin stays intact.’*
If the charges were substantiated, the Minister would undoubtedly be in trouble, too. If a department head tried to feign ignorance, the Emperor would cut off their head for incompetence. The atmosphere among the staff was chaotic; they had sensed the tremor in the Minister’s voice and realized the situation was far more dire than anyone expected.
Amidst the frantic tidying, I could hear whispers erupting everywhere.
“What kind of nerve did Constance have to pull off something so bold?”
“I know, right? I wonder if she really acted alone.”
“Shh, she’ll hear you.”
I sighed, catching sight of my colleagues glancing at me while they muttered. According to Heather, the investigators were pulling several officials from the Ministry Of Finance for cross-checking. Some had already testified that they saw Donovan handing work off to Connie.
Because of that, Connie was in even deeper trouble.
*‘How could Connie possibly have predicted that Donovan would force that work onto her? If only I knew who was involved and to what extent, it would be a little better.’*
I didn’t know whether to view those witnesses as enemies or as grey-area players.
*‘For now, let’s do what I can.’*
I slipped in among the remaining staff, who were scrubbing the office with hollow expressions. Pretending to work, I pilfered the western territory’s data. These were materials I should not have been able to access due to security restrictions.
*‘Thank goodness. The account books sent directly from the west were still there.’*
It seemed they had only taken the documents organized by the middle-tier officials. I had a rough idea of the reports Andrew had written. I couldn’t replicate them perfectly, but comparing the existing materials with the fragments in my memory was something I could manage.
While the cowards vanished as soon as the Minister left, I stayed until the very end to gather more data. Once the office was finished, even those who had stayed out of a sense of duty left for the day. I feigned distress and lingered, stalling for time, before hiding the gathered documents around my desk. Since officials’ desks were always piled high with paper, it didn’t look particularly suspicious.
*‘I can’t take them out, so the strategy is simple: hide a tree in the forest.’*
Since Andrew was gone, there was no one to check them, but even if someone came looking, I planned to let them believe the inspection team had already seized them.
*‘I can just slip them in when I return documents that aren’t related to this incident.’*
*･☪D✶༄ ‧₊˚a⋰˚☆m✶༄ ‧₊˚
Three days had passed.
*‘They say Andrew and Donovan are under house arrest.’*
I had been losing sleep worrying about Connie, left alone in a detention center for interrogation.
*‘I could understand no visitors, but to not even allow the delivery of blankets or a change of clothes…’*
Perhaps the exhaustion of those three sleepless nights was worth it, for the investigation had finally moved forward.
*‘I studied five hours a night even in my last semester at the Academy.’*
Taking advantage of the chaos, I pretended to work while analyzing the western territory’s documents. I eventually found the points where Duke Camelot had manipulated the figures.
*‘He’s certainly helped himself to a lot.’*
The gaps were massive; once I laid the documents out step-by-step, the theft was glaring.
*‘Now I see why Donovan went through the trouble of splitting up the work.’*
And why he made Andrew step away during the final process.
*‘He must have been worried about the backlash from Andrew’s family.’*
If he had let him get involved beyond a certain point, Andrew’s main family would have intervened. It was 90% certain that Donovan was the linchpin.
*‘He said he had the backing of Duke Camelot.’*
He was using Connie and intending to discard her, yet it was remarkably dim-witted of him not to realize Duke Camelot would do the same to him.
*‘Duke Camelot’s way of cutting ties would be far more brutal.’*
I successfully hid a carefully copied manuscript under my clothes and returned the stolen documents to their stacks.
*‘I need to deliver this.’*
In principle, I should report to my superior, but I doubted they would save Connie. If the Ministry Of Finance was deep in the mud of this manipulation, they would need a scapegoat.
*‘They might choose to discard Connie rather than cut off Donovan, who has a higher rank.’*
Finishing the case as Connie’s personal deviation would result in the least damage to the Ministry.
*‘But do you think I went through all that trouble just for the Minister’s sake?’*
I crossed my arms, pressing firmly on the documents hidden beneath my bodice.
*‘My goal is to save Connie, not to help corrupt officials find a way to survive. The one who must pay is Donovan. To fully utilize this evidence, I need a connection that reaches the Emperor directly.’*
For a commoner, this was twenty times harder than digging through ledgers. I had two people in mind, both with equally low chances of success. One was impossible to persuade; the other was impossible to contact.
*‘If so, would someone closer to the Emperor be better?’*
After intense deliberation, I chose one. I waited for the weekend and arrived at a cafe with an impressive glass-walled interior. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door; the clear chime of a bell calmed my pounding heart.
*‘They said it was an information guild, but it really is just a cafe.’*
The scent of coffee and the soft music of a melody box made it seem almost mundane.
*‘I didn’t come to the wrong place, did I?’*
I sat at the back table. The interior was completely empty. It had to be the right place—a cafe this size, on the outskirts of the commercial district, surely would have gone under by now if it relied solely on customers.
*‘Maybe there’s a perception-warping spell on it, or maybe they spread bad rumors on purpose to keep people away.’*
If too many customers came and went, the inner workings of the guild would be exposed. My deduction felt plausible. After a few minutes, a man with brown hair and an apron hurried from the back.
“Oh my, I didn’t know a guest had arrived.”
He scratched his head, his eyes crinkling into a friendly smile.
“No, I haven’t been waiting long.”
I acted the part of a normal customer, observing him closely.
*‘This man must be the guild leader, right?’*
According to the novel, the Emperor’s only friend and head of the information guild, Count Kailus Seymour—’Kyle’ for short—spent most of his time in this cafe.
*‘He does look like the heart-wrenching second lead of a romance fantasy.’*
Brown hair, green eyes—the textbook cliché of a man pining for the heroine. Yet, that was merely a veneer; his personality was cold, typical of a mental-type magician.
“I’d like to order.”
I recited the code for a request in my head and asked for a menu.
“Did you ask for a menu just now?”
Kyle’s expression brightened with confusing intensity.
“Uh, yes.”
He looked at me as if there were a hidden meaning behind the simple act of requesting a menu.
“You’re not here to sell me something, or perhaps you didn’t walk in by mistake, did you?”
He asked, then vanished before I could even reply.
*‘They said in the novel he was calm and intelligent.’*
He felt a little… frivolous. A few seconds later, he returned with a menu and set it before me.
“We haven’t really had any customers lately.”
His eyes drooped, his expression shifting to one of rustic, innocent disappointment.
“Ah. I see.”
I couldn’t tell if his pouting was an act or if he was truly lonely.
*‘Wasn’t it that he intentionally wasn’t taking customers?’*
Maybe he was just the type to over-immerse himself in a role. While I was lost in speculation, Kyle regained the calm, intelligent demeanor described in the text.
“Take your time, and please ring the bell at your table when you’re ready to order.”
“Ah, wait a moment.”
I hadn’t come to drink coffee. I pointed vaguely at the item at the top of the menu.
“I’ll have this.”
Kyle served the drink in no time. I took a slow, calculated sip—a dark, thick liquid similar to espresso.
“Ugh.”
I barely managed to swallow, suppressing the urge to gag.
*‘What is this? Poison?’*
I was seized with immediate regret for having swallowed it, convinced that spitting it out in someone else’s place of business was a social death sentence. I looked up at Kyle with trembling, watering eyes.