The Low-Ranking Civil Servant Wants to Achieve Success Chapter 117

 

There was no way to refute it.

Kiaros anxiously bit his lower lip, then finally blurted out another question to his aide.

“If someone prefers A… but A’s true identity is actually B… then should I confess as B, or as A?”

“…So it was a romance problem. One moment, please.”

His aide might’ve been somewhat lacking in social tact, but he was undeniably competent. It was no accident that he had beaten fierce competition to rise to his post.

And since the Crown Prince’s love life had been a long-standing concern, the aide had been preparing for this moment for quite some time.

He had heard rumors that someone in the Scroll Department was a master of romance theory. So he had gathered all their advice and compiled it into a formal report.

He now opened the hefty dossier to the section labeled “Confessions.”

“Hmm. There doesn’t seem to be advice for that exact case. But it does say here that one should not rush into a confession.”

Kiaros had already seen what happened when confessions failed—twice, right before his eyes.

Victor had confessed to Namia twice, and both times he had been brutally rejected.

“This kind of reckless attempt is called a confession attack. In most cases, the target takes such heavy damage that they make every effort never to appear before the confessor again.”

“…”

“Oh—here’s a variation. ‘When you’re tormented because nothing is working, the ultimate last-resort confession.’”

The aide brightened as he read aloud.

‘I actually liked you a lot. But now I’m letting go. This is just me expressing my feelings one last time, so don’t worry about it—just live well.’
After saying that, one is to leave coolly.

“What? Leave?”

“Yes. That’s why it’s called the last resort. If the person did have some feelings for you, they supposedly go nearly mad.”

“No.”

Kiaros cut him off firmly.

“Absolutely not.”

He waved his hand dismissively. The report was useless.

Forget her? Leave her? Those weren’t even conceivable. Not even as empty words.

Even if he had to coax her, plead, and beg—keeping her by his side would never be enough.

“The expert does say—before a confession, there must first be signs of affection. Things like flirting, teasing, showing interest.”

Kiaros propped his chin in his hand slowly.

Truth was, he had avoided doing such things as the Crown Prince. Approaching Namia like that felt like a kind of deception.

And as Keyvon, he hadn’t allowed himself to openly express his feelings either.

“By the way, regarding this whole A-and-B situation…”

While Kiaros was lost in thought, his aide spoke up cautiously.

“You’ve been concealing your identity from Miss Namia, perhaps even corresponding with her in letters. If so, the gap between A and B is far too wide.”

“…Has he realized Namia is involved?”

“Yes, forgive me, but I do have that much perception.”

The aide answered with absolute loyalty.

“Perhaps you should start by dropping small hints, little by little?”

“…Hints.”

Kiaros glanced again at the note he had been fidgeting with.

The traps are all ready, and soon we’ll catch the infiltrator. Would you be willing to join me?

In truth, he already knew the correct answer.

The Dragon’s Chosen must keep their special ability secret—even from family.

Therefore, he couldn’t reveal that Keyvon was Kiaros. Instead, he’d have to claim that Keyvon had left, and then approach her as Kiaros.

No matter how close Namia had grown to Keyvon…

That way, she would never feel betrayed. But still…

“Oh, that bench is pretty. So natural-looking. Let’s make sure to sit there together before I leave the palace.”

Would even that—the very first date invitation Namia had ever given him—vanish?

He couldn’t accept that.

Just then, the aide continued,

“If there are too many secrets to reveal at once, why not leak the less important ones first?”

Kiaros crossed his arms. It seemed a reasonable idea.

He imagined confessing everything at once.

“Truthfully, I didn’t trust you, Namia Roapia.”
“Oh, I see. I understand.”
“So I spied on you in the guise of Keyvon.”

At this point, Namia would widen her eyes once, then immediately shut her heart. He knew her well enough to be sure.

“So now you understand—I’m Keyvon.”
“Oh, I see.”
“But I truly like you.”
“Oh, I see.”
“What about you, Namia?”
“His Highness is a wonderful person, but…”

She would then deliver a perfectly measured, carefully worded refusal.

All the while thinking, “How uncomfortable, to be entangled like this with my superior.”

“Did you not like Keyvon?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t real. So I’ll erase those feelings too.”

And Namia—being who she was—would probably succeed in erasing them.

The thought alone made Kiaros groan.

“Before it comes to that, I have to close the distance a little.”

He needed to get closer even as Kiaros, not just as Keyvon.

From what he could tell, Namia was planning to set the stage for the High Priest to attack her tomorrow.

If that worked, things between them would change dramatically from the very next day.

That was what he intended.

“Yes… I’ll start dropping small hints now.”

At that moment—ding-ling!—a clear bell sounded.

It was Namia, summoning Keyvon. Instinctively, Kiaros shot to his feet.

“Leave me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The aide bowed politely and withdrew.

He didn’t know what that bell was, exactly. But he did know that whenever it rang, Kiaros would tense up and dismiss everyone.

Once alone, Kiaros quickly shifted into Keyvon’s form and even changed his clothes.

“This time, I’ll let slip just a few, very small secrets… and also try that so-called flirting step before confession.”

It wouldn’t be easy. Namia was unique—her reactions were always unpredictable.

But he steeled himself.

***

Elsewhere, at the Reformist headquarters.

The executive meeting had just ended, and people were dispersing.

Then the leader, Beavers Arwin, spoke in a low tone:

“Aran, stay behind a while.”

The tall woman with blue eyes and black hair coiled up neatly—Aran—nodded and remained seated. Soon, only the two of them were left.

Beavers looked at her steadily before speaking.

“I haven’t told the other executives yet… but word is, the High Priest has secured the Dragon’s Chosen’s blood in the palace. Once Kiaros is dead, he’ll bring it here.”

The Reformists had roots spread across the continent. But to become an executive, there was one requirement:

One had to undergo experimentation.

It was both proof of ideological loyalty and a test of resolve.

Even the High Priest, who had healed and sheltered Reformist remnants, was no exception. He too had undergone experimentation before becoming an executive.

“He won’t take part in this experiment, though. That man is obsessed only with Othom’s blood.”

Othom’s blood, from a monstrous being, prevented aging and granted bursts of immense strength.

But its effects were temporary—forcing the subject to undergo re-experimentation once a year.

The process was agonizing. Even for executives, volunteering was rare. Yet the High Priest, driven by his obsession with youth, underwent it annually.

“But Aran…”

Beavers continued speaking to her, though she remained silent.

“Neither the Tower Master’s blood nor the Dragon’s Chosen’s blood had any effect on you, did they?”

Within the Reformists, Aran’s position was… ambiguous.

Both the Dragon’s Chosen’s blood and the Tower Master’s blood were exceedingly scarce. Unlike the relatively plentiful monster blood.

Yet Aran had been granted the privilege of both experiments, thanks to being the one who had delivered the Tower Master’s blood.

Even so, she had gained no powers at all.

“When the Dragon’s Chosen’s blood arrives… will you volunteer for the experiment again?”