"Ugh."
I had been at the office since early morning writing reports, and now I stretched, lightly rotating my stiff wrist. As the long-sleeved shirt I'd deliberately worn rode up slightly, my gaze briefly flickered to my wrist.
'It's gotten a lot better, at least.'
The bruise that had been dark purple in the shape of a hand had now faded considerably and taken on a yellowish tinge.
'Good thing I didn't go to the temple.'
It was my right wrist, so it had been inconvenient for a while, but time heals all wounds.
'Ointment is more than enough.'
I pulled my sleeve back down and picked up my pen.
'Going to the temple for an injury like this.'
That man really didn't know how things worked. I shook my head and silently bad-mouthed 'Everett Rohas.'
Even if I wasn't the one paying, it was such a waste.
'Temples charge the same donation for minor and serious injuries.'
It was to prevent patients with minor conditions—those who could be treated by herbalists or physicians—from using the temple.
Of course, there was also the intention of emptying the pockets of nobles who visited the temple even for minor injuries.
'I can't spend half my annual salary just to get rid of a bruise on my wrist.'
A 4-silver ointment applied for a few days would heal it, but 200 gold was just excessive.
I shook my head and readjusted my grip on my pen.
To be honest, I wasn't in a position to be thinking about other things.
I had to finish organizing eight years' worth of tax records from seven territories by today.
'I've already missed quitting time by far, and I have about two left.'
And even after this was done, more work would flood in, and even after that, work would keep piling up for a while.
Because the emperor, who had headed to the battlefield right after his coronation, would soon return after eight years.
Moreover, an order had been issued to prepare departmental reports for him to review immediately upon his return.
'How many days until the emperor's triumphant return?'
About three or four days, I thought, but my brain had been so overworked that I couldn't be bothered to calculate the exact date.
'What kind of hardship is this?'
No matter how much the emperor was a warmongering tyrant who treated human lives like flies, there was no way his blade would reach this far down.
As a low-level official, I just needed to keep my head down, hold my breath, and endure until the situation passed—but those higher up who had to face the emperor directly seemed to have a different story.
'Everyone's on edge and the reprimands keep coming.'
Because of their superiors' uneasy moods, all the palace officials were on high alert. The treasury department, where I worked, was no exception.
'They would have received regular reports even from the battlefield, though...'
The reports sent to the emperor were polished and refined, so some details inevitably got omitted, and when the boss was away for a long time, subordinates naturally became a bit lax.
Even the fearsome reputation of the current emperor, who had purged the previous emperor and collateral royals to ascend the throne, was bound to fade after eight years.
Moreover, officials who had entered service after the emperor joined the war had never even seen his face.
'Well, periodically there were rumors about him sweeping away some country in an instant or wiping out an entire royal family.'
People tend not to fear what they can't see in front of them, so those stories were often consumed as gossip.
'But now he's about to become visible.'
How many people wouldn't be nervous, knowing the emperor planned to thoroughly investigate everything that happened during his absence?
'I pride myself on having lived uprightly, but even I'm nervous thinking there might be some tiny mistake if I look back.'
He'd be even more so.
I glanced at Donovan, who was throwing a tantrum at Connie, and sighed.
He'd been like that ever since the news of the emperor's return spread. All the mid-level officials looked like they were about to die, but Donovan was especially bad.
'Did he really do something?'
I shrugged lightly, also to loosen my stiff muscles.
He looked exactly like a corrupt bureaucrat, but I kept telling myself not to suspect people without evidence.
But seeing him become increasingly hysterical made me wonder if there was something there.
'He's the type to be a tyrant in his own little corner, too timid to actually do anything big...'
Wouldn't throwing such a fit actually draw more suspicion?
'Well, the emperor isn't the type to carefully distinguish between those who skimmed a little and those who skimmed a lot before sweeping them away.'
At least according to the original story. Until he was reformed by the sunshine heroine, the emperor was the typical competent tyrant from romance fantasy novels.
'Cruel to both commoners and nobles alike, regardless of status.'
Donovan, who had been in the treasury since before the emperor's ascension, would know the emperor's temperament.
'That explains this frenzy.'
I had now fully leaned toward the belief that Donovan had something to hide.
His voice was so loud that employees whose concentration had been broken kept throwing dissatisfied glances his way.
"I've told you how urgent this is so many times—and it's still not done?"
'He assigned a week's worth of work yesterday.'
No matter how rushed, there's a limit to how much time can be shortened.
"It's almost done."
Connie answered Donovan in a restrained tone.
Connie, who had initially dealt with Donovan with a business smile born of social experience, had now reached the limit of her patience.
Certainly, if Donovan hadn't pestered her every hour, she might have finished a little faster.
"'Almost'—how many times are you going to say that? Tch."
Donovan nagged Connie to the end before disappearing.
The moment Donovan fully exited the office, Connie plopped down in her chair.
No sound came out, but her lips moved in a way that anyone fluent in the language could infer the meaning. Scattered among the very coarse vocabulary was Donovan's name.
Everyone in the office gave tacit approval to Connie's venting with hazy eyes.
Because over the past few days, Donovan's hysterical targeting had been focused on Connie.
I cautiously approached and placed my hand on Connie's shoulder.
When I gestured with my eyes toward the door leading outside, Connie followed with a sulky face.
I quietly headed to the back of the treasury building to give Connie some time to cool down.
Feeling a bit better now that we were outside, Connie began grumbling.
A similar repertoire of complaints came out, this time with sound.
I listened, occasionally reacting.
After a while, Connie, whose face had flushed almost the same color as her carrot-colored hair, sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder.
"Donovan was always a pain, but lately he's been even worse."
"Right, ever since the news of His Majesty's return came, he's been like that."
Connie, seeming to have an itch to share, wrinkled her nose and whispered.
"Remember how Donovan was so happy about securing a connection with Duke Camelot?"
Duke Camelot was the head of the noble faction.
One of Donovan's distant relatives was a vassal of Duke Camelot, and through that connection, it seemed he had met the Duke a couple of times.
'And he bragged about it endlessly.'
Up to that point, everyone knew.
"But it seems His Majesty plans to purge Duke Camelot as soon as he returns."
'Oh.'
I pursed my lips slightly and drew in a breath.
"Rumor has it they didn't get along even before the coronation? I wonder why he let it slide eight years ago."
Connie chuckled, saying that since there were so many names on the emperor's death list, he might have simply forgotten about Duke Camelot.
Whatever the reason, Duke Camelot, who had survived the purge at the start of the reign, had been trying to expand his influence during the emperor's absence—in hopes of surviving even after the emperor's return.
But it seemed the emperor, who had turned a blind eye due to more pressing external matters, was now cracking down internally as soon as the war ended.
"Everyone who's in the know is aware, really. Though it's not something to say out loud."
Connie, who had been leaning on my shoulder until then, straightened up and winked.
"The dragon was away, so the wyverns played king—but now that's over."
Connie added her wish that while sweeping away the wyverns, an orc or two might get swept away as well.
The emperor was so openly restraining the duke that news had reached even Connie, a low-level palace official with fairly wide connections...
"But is Duke Camelot just sitting back and letting that happen?"
At my question, spoken almost to myself, Connie said we'd have to wait and see, giving an ambiguous answer.
After that, we chatted about light topics for a while.
With her mood fully restored, Connie made a face that clearly showed she didn't want to, and said.
"Shouldn't we go back in now?"
"I suppose so."
I knew that every moment we stood here, our sleep time was being eaten away, but returning to the office with its mountain of work was a fairly painful prospect.
We returned to the office at a very slow pace.
Donovan didn't return while we processed our backlogged work at our desks.
Around midnight, employees who had finished their work began disappearing one by one with zombie-like faces.
I had just finished organizing the tax records of the last territory around that time.
I approached Connie, who still seemed to have quite a bit of work left, and asked.
"Do you want some help?"
Connie, who had been making a tearful face under the weight of a seemingly endless pile of work, brightened.
After a very brief period of negotiating with her conscience, Connie cautiously asked for my help.
"Then could you just do this much? Thank you so much."
I took the work Connie handed me. Out of habit, I checked the front of the documents.
'Huh?'
Even after blinking my blurry eyes and checking again, what I'd read didn't change. A question slipped out before I could stop it.
"Connie, what are you doing?"
