The Low-Ranking Civil Servant Wants to Achieve Success Chapter 35

 

3. The Tower Lord’s Situation

A bizarrely towering building stood at the center of a vast land shrouded in mist, enclosed by high walls.

The Mage Tower—an institution that valued separation from the outside world.

At the break of dawn, cutting through the fog, an old man entered the tower.

“Tower Lord!”

As soon as the old man entered, staff in hand, the secretary leapt to his feet.

“You’re here! It’s been so long!”

His tall frame couldn’t be hidden under the black robe.

Glossy, long white hair and a sweeping white beard.

Bulging, gleaming blue eyes.

The Tower Lord looked like the embodiment of death itself.

“Yes, it’s me.”

The Tower Lord strode in and perched on his desk.

“Saying it’s been a while—was that your way of snarking that I’ve been neglecting the Tower, huh?”

Mountains of documents and letters were piled on the desk.

Some even bore the seal of the Imperial Family.

“Well, yes. Anyway, how was your trip?”

The secretary quickly took his staff and replied.

“Did it go well?”

“Damn it.”

The Tower Lord began with a curse. A communication method so effective the secretary immediately understood it had gone poorly.

The Tower Lord glanced at him and grumbled.

“Don’t have kids.”

“Pardon?”

“Raising them is hard, cleaning up after them is worse.”

He rubbed his forehead like he had a headache.

“My kid caused the mess, so I have to take responsibility… but damn, it’s harder than it looks. Just don’t have kids, you.”

“Er… I think that just means you failed at parenting. I don’t see what that has to do with my hypothetical children.”

The secretary calmly responded as he began tidying up the paperwork scattered when the Tower Lord sat down.

“Frankly, it seems Aran’s rebelliousness stems from your flawed education style.”

“Flawed? I only told her objective facts since she was a baby!”

The Tower Lord jumped to his feet in indignation.

“How could she turn out like that from that?!”

“Judging by her behavior, it seems entirely plausible. I’ve learned a lot.”

“Tch. Aran won’t understand until she has a bratty daughter of her own.”

“Well, considering her age, it wouldn’t be strange if her daughter already had a daughter.”

The Tower Lord groaned, rubbing his temples.

He’d been searching for his runaway daughter—after a major scandal—for almost 25 years now.

At this point, he just wanted to clean up the mess she made. But even that was proving difficult.

The secretary spoke in a flat tone.

“Since you’re back, could you take a look at some of the paperwork? It’s piled up like this.”

The Tower Lord stared at the stack with a weary face and sighed. Then, feigning disinterest, he said,

“I’ll read five important ones, then take a break. Pick them out.”

“Hmm… I’ll do my best, though I might struggle to determine which are most important…”

“If you get it right, I’ll raise your salary.”

“I’ll give it my all.”

The secretary tilted his head, then selected five documents. The Tower Lord skimmed them and snapped,

“What the hell? Two of the five have the Imperial seal? Do I have to care about external affairs too?”

“One’s from the Crown Prince’s office. The other is from the Minister of the Scroll Management Department.”

The Tower Lord picked up the one from the Crown Prince’s office first and grumbled.

“What’s this? ‘Request for opinion after review’? That bratty Crown Prince—he better not be wasting my time.”

“Um…”

The secretary interjected, looking a bit confused.

“Shouldn’t you read the one from the Minister first? It’s a petition. Something seems to have happened in the Scroll Management Department…”

“Tch. What do I care about those wannabes who live off magic but can’t even get into the Tower?”

“…Then shall we just cut the Scroll Department off from Tower jurisdiction entirely? Let the Imperial Family handle them.”

The secretary’s voice was laced with hope. Maybe it would lighten their workload.

But the Tower Lord roared,

“No way! It’s still a magic-related department. Why would we let the palace run it entirely? No!”

“But you’ve said you don’t have time to manage them…”

“I will have time once Aran’s situation is dealt with! That’s all that matters!”

He slammed the desk.

“Cleaning up Aran’s mess is more important than overseeing some bureaucratic department! For the sake of the entire continent!”

“But at this rate, you might have the department forcibly stripped from you or see it dissolve.”

The secretary looked hopeful as ever.

“They say His Highness the Crown Prince has seized document access rights. This petition asks you to stop that. Sounds like someone’s been skimming off the top.”

The Tower Lord snorted, displeased.

He disliked the Scroll Department Minister—but he hated the meddling Crown Prince even more.

“Arrogant little… That snot-nosed punk in his twenties dares to touch Tower affairs?”

The Tower Lord’s eyes scanned the Crown Prince’s letter in fury.

“And he dares to ask me to read the case where he nearly died and submit an opinion? What does he think the Tower is, a daycare?”

Furious, he skimmed the document. His expression sharpened.

“What opinion? He doesn’t even understand the situation.”

His face twisted into a crooked smile as he scoffed.

“Some low-level employee suddenly activated 172 defensive scrolls? Is this a joke?”

“I thought it was odd too, so I double-checked,” the secretary replied, tilting his head.

“Apparently, Namia Roapia really did activate 172 scrolls. And the night before, she made 166 of them by herself.”

“…Hm?”

The Tower Lord’s brow furrowed.

The secretary watched the grumpy old man, yet couldn’t hide a note of pride in his voice.

“This one’s important, right? Please raise my salary.”

“…”

The Tower Lord stared silently at the report for a long time.

Then he stood.

He seized his staff, eyes gleaming.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sorry?”

“If you wanted to earn your pay, you should’ve shoved this under my nose the moment I got back.”

No chance to protest—he grinned like a madman.

“I’m going to see for myself.”

“What?!”

Without responding, the Tower Lord swirled his robe and dashed out of the tower.

***

She’ll grant me a wish…

That was the exact line I’d been hoping for.

It was why I helped her in the first place.

But while the result was the same, the delivery was completely different.

[‘You saved my life. I owe you everything. Name your wish, and it’s yours!’]

I had assumed she’d say that.

Instead, she thanked me for saving the royal family, not her personally.

And that… warmed something in me.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

I answered, my voice trembling slightly.

“Thank you. I won’t hold back.”

My heart fluttered oddly.

Because she wasn’t seeing me as some personal savior—but as a professional who did her job well.

“You suspected your boss, and in doing so, exposed an enemy of the crown.”

“Oh…”

“Of course you may ask for anything.”

I took a deep breath.

Then carefully began.

“Your Majesty, then… may I tell you my story? It’s a bit long…”

“Of course! I’ve got nothing else to do right now!”

The Empress laughed heartily.

“His Majesty and His Highness the Crown Prince are probably busy with the cleanup anyway! Wahahaha!”

She motioned for me to sit, then sprawled into her seat.

She yanked on a bell cord and shouted,

“First, meat! I didn’t eat properly yesterday, and I think I’ve lost muscle mass!”

Then, gazing at me, she sighed.

“Our Namia looks like she could use more meat, too.”

I gave an awkward smile.

Soon, with the table piled high with meats of every kind, I began my story.

My birth into debt, how I ended up an adopted daughter, the disappearance of my father.

As my tale went on, the Empress’s face grew grave.

“…So… if I do find my father someday, even if he was part of a criminal group… please, just spare his life…”

“Damn it, Namia, of course!”

She shouted so loud I flinched.

“That’s a given! First, we take down that bastard Baron Roapia!”

Her eyes blazed with rage.

“And your mother too! What kind of lunatic leaves their child saddled with debt? Tell me everything you know about her—right now!”