The Low-Ranking Civil Servant Wants to Achieve Success Chapter 53

Keyvon flinched. I shook my head and added,

“No, even if you were royalty, they’d only apologize to your face and nothing would change.”

Keyvon stopped for now, but the air around him grew even colder.

This was why dealing with flowerbed kids who’d never had a proper job was exhausting to teach.

I led Keyvon outside and said,

“Calm down. From their perspective, it might make sense.”

“How can that make sense? They’re all civil servants acting like children…”

“We all get the same salary, but our department looks like a total mess. And, well, it was a mess.”

It used to be just like this.

Anytime I mentioned the Scroll Management Department, the treatment was terrible.

‘We were always at the back during any official civil service event…’

Not just at events, but even during everyday life.

At the cafeteria or the café, if someone said something, we took the hint and left.

Because we knew exactly what our position was—mocked and disregarded by everyone else.

‘And now we’ll just be mocked even more.’

Sure enough, all the higher-ups were purged, and one turned out to be a spy.

Things were definitely worse than before, not better.

Behind our backs, I was sure people were saying, “Might as well abolish the department now…”

I tried to soothe Keyvon.

“These are all elite people who passed tough exams. Of course they’ll look down on us.”

‘Salary thieves’—I’d heard that one more times than I could count.

“The number of personnel also reflects how important a department is. And we’re down to nine now.”

“But that’s not our fault, is it?”

“And on top of that, we’ve got a kid Minister parachuted in by the Tower Master… It’s wrong to ridicule us, but it’s no surprise they’d hold us in contempt.”

It made more sense that no one would take me seriously as a Minister.

No doubt the other department heads resented me too.

“We’ve only ever shown them chaos. If we demand respect now, it’ll just sound like whining.”

Sure, I became Minister somehow, but if it stayed like this, I’d be seen as nothing but the Tower Master’s puppet.

Our staff would keep getting dismissed everywhere they went.

“So what do we do…”

“Stop whining and fix it in another way.”

“Uh, fix it how?”

Keyvon looked puzzled.

“Build the department up.”

I said it firmly.

“We have to prove it with results. Show everyone the Scroll Department can be important.”

“Uh, how exactly do we…”

“First…”

Even though his speech was getting increasingly informal, I didn’t correct him. Lunch break was almost over.

I turned slowly and said,

“We need to get the budget.”

Money.

If we wanted to prove anything, money was essential.

There were a few indirect ways to show a department’s authority.

Along with headcount, one of the most telling was the allocated budget.

But as a newly established department, we hadn’t even received our budget yet.

“A lot.”

I’d already sent the proposal to the Finance Department this morning, as bait.

“A whole lot.”

Now was the time to wait calmly.

“Like, a truly huge amount.”

* * *

Namia and Kiaros made it back just before the bell.

They’d barely gotten the food down, hadn’t even touched dessert.

Kiaros didn’t care about missing his meal, but the fact that thin Namia had barely eaten bothered him.

‘That voucher wasn’t meant for a rushed bite like that…’

Sensing his gaze, Namia smiled and said,

“I’m a Minister, remember?”

Then, pointing to the clock as she sat down,

“If I don’t stick to work hours, how can I ask my team to?”

The Scroll Management Department had terrible timekeeping. She seemed intent on changing that by setting an example.

He looked at her for a moment, then said on impulse,

“Minister.”

“What?”

“About what we heard at the café… You don’t need to take it to heart.”

“Huh?”

“They just didn’t know how thorough you are.”

Just thinking about it made him angry. Judging without knowing…

[She’s twenty-three and already a Minister? Who would work under her?]

[I’d never be a team leader under someone that young.]

How much would those words have hurt Namia?

But she just coolly said she’d prove herself with results and walked away.

“Those were just meaningless comments from people who don’t even know your face. Even royalty must get talked about like that.”

He meant it as comfort.

Namia had shared her own comfort with him during lunch, after all.

He’d learned so much about her today that he could barely process it all.

What he felt most now was guilt.

‘She told me her story just to comfort me about being alone…’

He really had been touched by her warmth.

But more than that, he felt bad for deceiving her.

‘No, this is an investigation. She even told me to go ahead and dig if I found anything suspicious. This is official.’

At the same time, he made another vow.

He would not let the Baron Roapia family off the hook.

He’d already issued orders, but now it didn’t feel like enough.

‘Even that bastard Juan Roapia’s work was dumped on Namia?’

That was a breach of internal department confidentiality. A punishable offense.

More than the rule-breaking, what infuriated him was how one-sided the exploitation had been.

“Hm.”

Still… did Namia feel comforted by what he said?

Kiaros quietly studied her face. Her small lips parted.

“Those were fifth-year civil servants from the Education Department.”

“…Pardon?”

“I do know their faces. I review the org chart and photos whenever I have time. I might not remember all their names, but I know their departments and years of service.”

“….”

The Education Department wasn’t as big as the Finance Department, but it was still large and had a high exam cutoff.

But to think a bunch of mere fifth-years had mocked a team leader and a Minister like that…

That was absurd enough, but even more absurd was Namia’s muttering.

“They love comparing departmental rankings. I’ll sort them out properly later. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”

Kiaros swallowed dryly.

She hadn’t shrugged it off at all. She remembered everything.

And somehow, he knew—no matter how much time passed—she wouldn’t forget.

“I might not know all their names, but from the left it was Ardan, Revon, Yudis… Wait. Let me check the org chart.”

Namia pulled up the document with a sharp gleam in her eyes.

Then she immediately began matching her memory with the grayscale photos. Soon, she circled several faces in red.

“Seven people… Alright. Got them all.”

A cold sweat ran down Kiaros’ spine.

And then—

With a loud bang, the office door flew open and the room erupted in chaos.

“Huh?”

Namia, who had been looking intently at the org chart, raised her head.

Outside, another employee’s startled voice rang out.

“D-Deputy Minister of Finance, why are you here…?”

Kiaros frowned.

The Finance Minister? Here? Now?

‘Why now, of all times?’

But Namia didn’t look surprised at all.

On the contrary—she even smiled, as if she’d been waiting for this moment.

‘That smile…’

Kiaros involuntarily flinched. His body tensed on instinct.

That bright and beautiful smile was the same one she gave him earlier that morning.

A smile that said she was genuinely happy to see him—waiting for him— and…