Episode 7
“Frisbee.”
“Yes, Miss Foy?”
I called over Frisbee, the assistant in charge of hiring in our department.
“For the next new hire, please focus on people with combat skills. Martial arts, staff-fighting, or just someone who’s so brave they wouldn’t flinch even with a gun pointed at their head.”
Frisbee, who had already dealt with three hiring requests this month alone, sighed.
“Tch. One person comes in, another one leaves. And then another one. It’s like sausage links. Oh, now I want sausages. Should I get some for dinner?”
Thankfully, Frisbee had an optimistic personality.
That’s probably the only reason he’s survived the hell-level stress of doing HR for our team.
There’s a reason our assistant office has its own dedicated HR person—our work environment is special.
“Oh, and if the new hire is a man, give him a staff that doubles as a sword stick. If it’s a woman, tell her to wear a hatpin in her hat during her commute for the first month.”
That way, they’ll at least be able to defend themselves in case of danger.
I muttered to myself.
“Should we also look for someone who’s persuasive? Just in case they get kidnapped and need to talk their way out of it?”
Frisbee asked seriously. I shook my head.
“We can teach that after they get here.”
So far, no one’s been kidnapped yet, so we should be okay.
I thought it over while resting my cheek on the desk.
“Ugh. Why are the nobles so obsessed with His Majesty? Can’t they just live peacefully for once?”
I wished they’d stop bothering us poor assistants.
“I’m not curious about His Majesty’s private life at all. I don’t even want to be involved with him!”
If anything, once I find out who the emperor is, I’ll probably run away in fear.
Just then, our wonderful boss, Mr. John Smith, returned—his arms full of paperwork. His veins popped slightly from the weight.
“Miss Foy. What’s that on your desk?”
“A resignation letter. Miss Tiera left it.”
“Why did she quit? Was the work too much?”
I gave him a tired smile. Mr. Smith placed the documents down with a sigh.
“I’ve realized this too while working here—there’s way too much paperwork in the palace. We really need to simplify the system.”
“Thanks, Mr. Smith. That would help a lot.”
He looked pleased—until he noticed my expression.
“What’s wrong? You don’t look well. Are you feeling okay?”
“Well… I heard that Duke Davilport tried to get information from our office again.”
Mr. Smith’s face went cold.
I lowered my voice and whispered.
“Sometimes assistants get bribed or threatened just because we work near the emperor. That’s what scared Miss Tiera off too, right?”
I even made a cutting gesture across my neck, and Mr. Smith looked deep in thought.
“That Duke Davilport… Still trying to pry into the emperor’s life even when he’s in hiding. He really goes too far.”
“He’s always been wary of His Majesty.”
I said it, then instantly regretted it.
As soon as I said “Davilport,” the air in the room felt colder.
“Are you scared of the duke?”
“Wha—me? No! Not really… not at all.”
I denied it on reflex.
There were once rumors about someone being involved in the deaths of the empress and Count Meyer.
And the top suspect at the time was Duke Davilport.
But he was the emperor’s uncle, a royal, and used to be his tutor.
So, people dismissed the idea quickly.
His powerful faction demanded proof and pushed back hard.
Eventually, the case was buried.
“…Why is he so obsessed with His Majesty, though? Haha…”
I glanced around the room nervously.
Duke Henry Davilport Greenmelde.
Even now, just saying his name made people nervous.
He was still very much a living, breathing threat.
As someone from a fallen noble family, even I didn’t dare speak his name casually.
He claimed to be the emperor’s guide and tutor…
but honestly, Duke Davilport was scarier than the lazy emperor himself.
“Well anyway, I’ve got a report to write. Could you pass Miss Tiera’s resignation on to His Majesty for me?”
I handed over the letter, scratching my head.
“Hopefully he won’t do what he did last time… You know, hold on to someone’s resignation for two months just because he didn’t sign it…”
“This time he’ll take care of it quickly. Actually—I’ll suggest that he does.”
“Why did it take so long before, anyway?”
“Back then I was busy… looking for… important evidence—uh, ahem.”
“Huh? What?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
Mr. Smith slouched a little and looked glum.
“I’d need ten bodies to get everything done.”
I ignored his grumbling and went back to writing my report.
In this world, everything—from reports to speeches—had to be handwritten.
“Miss Foy, are you left-handed?”
“Ah! You scared me! You’re still here?”
He was glancing over my report with a soft gaze.
“You write so neatly. I wanted to see it up close. You hold your pen in an unusual way.”
“This way keeps the ink from smudging.”
I flapped my hand to dry the ink.
“Left-handed writers usually smear the ink because they write right-to-left. So we blow on the paper while writing. Makes us slower too.”
“You must have a hard time.”
His gentle voice wrapped around my ears like warm honey.
Saying sweet things with eyes like that should be illegal.
“They say people with good handwriting have good character. Maybe that’s why I trust you so much.”
W-What?!
That was a real compliment!
My hand stiffened around the pen.
I ducked my head and kept writing.
The scratch of the pen on paper felt louder than usual.
So weird. The office wasn’t even that quiet,
but I could hear everything.
“I’ll be going now. Good luck with the rest, Miss Foy.”
I felt him walk away.
Even while leaving, he was still chatting kindly with other staff.
Does he talk to everyone that sweetly?
I found myself eavesdropping without meaning to.
Wait—why am I listening in?
Now he was making small talk with Vernon on the other side of the office.
Why was his voice the only one I could hear so clearly in this noisy room?
Am I… unconsciously seeking out Mr. Smith?
A chill ran down my spine.
I didn’t want to admit it.
When did I start feeling this way?
It was confusing.
An assistant… chasing after her own boss?
At work?!
“This isn’t some work-obsessed boss romance story…”
Ugh.
Wait a second.
Now that I thought about it, things like this had been happening a lot lately…
—Of course I waited for you! You’re finally back! Please take care of these!
I cringed, shaking my head to forget my embarrassing past.
But my ears kept picking up Mr. Smith’s voice and every little thing he did.
—They say people with neat handwriting have kind hearts. Maybe that’s why I trust you?
I got so distracted that I slowed down my writing even more.
Because I was trying to make every single letter perfect…
I ended up working overtime again that day.
At 9 PM, I stared at the clock and ground my teeth.
Mr. Smith, you’re like a savior who’s also ruining my life.
I swear, I’m never getting lost in my thoughts again.
To be continued…
