Chapter 2
“Since we worked hard all morning, let’s eat something delicious!”
It was the lunch break we had been waiting for.
I approached Mr. John Smith’s desk, leaned in close, and smiled.
Mr. Smith, looking slightly tired with faint dark circles under his eyes, smiled back at me.
Ah. My heart aches.
‘He’s pitiful but so handsome.’
The way he loosened his collar slightly, the veins visible on his rolled-up sleeves—
Everything about him stirred people’s hearts.
“Shall we? Got anything in mind?”
“Hmm, something super, super spicy? They say spicy food is best when you’re stressed.”
“Spicy food, huh. I heard a nearby place just added a new spicy stew you dip bread into.”
“Perfect. Let’s go there. But can you handle spicy food?”
“I’ll test my limits today.”
And so, we went to a stew place near the imperial palace and sat down. While waiting for the food, we chatted across the table.
“Hmm.”
Mr. Smith glanced around the place. His sharp eyes suggested he was carefully observing everything.
“Mr. Smith, what are you doing?”
“Conducting a public livelihood investigation.”
“…What?”
Mr. Smith sometimes had a quirky side.
He would randomly ask restaurant owners about their business or stop by shops during lunch to check prices and buy a ton of ingredients—all in the name of “understanding the public.”
“I think seeing the restaurants near the palace helps me understand the merchants’ situations and concerns.”
“Anyone who hears you would think you’re the emperor.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then gave a slow grin.
“They say to work as if you own the place.”
“Oh, I could never do that. The actual owner doesn’t even have a sense of ownership, so why should I?”
It seemed many in the restaurant shared my thoughts.
As we waited for our stew, grumbling voices echoed from various tables.
Given the location, most customers here worked in other imperial departments.
“Can you believe the temple sent someone, and we had to send them back? What are we supposed to do when His Majesty refuses to meet anyone?!”
A middle-aged man, probably from the external affairs department, shouted in frustration.
He shoveled stew into his mouth, trying to calm his boiling temper.
“Hot! Man, this stuff’s really spicy.”
A middle-aged woman beside him chimed in.
“Don’t even get me started. I need a clear answer on the tax hike, and His Majesty ran off with his seal!”
“What?! You saw the emperor?!”
All eyes turned to her as if she had discovered a four-leaf clover or some rare creature.
“Of course not. That’s just what the royal guard told me. Cough. But wow, this stew is spicy.”
“Ah, I see.”
…Why do you sound so disappointed?
Anyway, if departments like theirs are struggling, imagine how it is for us in the Emperor’s personal aide office.
“Your food is here!”
At that moment, the bubbling spicy stew was placed in front of us. With a sprinkle of pepper, the sharp flavor hit just right.
“This warm food is really helping me relax. How is it, Mr. Smith?”
After tasting a spoonful, Mr. Smith rested his chin on one hand and asked, his eyes watery from the spice.
“Ahem. Ahem. Miss Rose Poi, do you enjoy spicy dishes?”
His tone always carried a certain authority.
But his voice itself was warm, so it felt more like the concern of a kind superior. I rubbed my tired eyes and muttered,
“Yes. I’ve loved spicy food… even in my past life.”
“Your past life?”
I snapped to attention.
“A-Ah! I mean, I love it so much it’s like I loved it in a past life! Just a joke, ha ha!”
“I see. Then we should come here often.”
Whew, that was close. My heart almost stopped.
‘Am I losing it from stress? I almost revealed I reincarnated!’
The truth is, this world is the setting of a novel I read in my previous life: Empress Adeline.
I realized it when I was nine, after jumping off the second floor in a cloak and passing out.
I live in the Greenmelde Empire, which, in the novel, is the dramatic setting where a harsh emperor meets the radiant empress and is redeemed through love.
Right now, Empress Adeline has been married, had a son, and the main story ended long ago.
And that son? He’s the lazy tyrant I currently serve.
‘But wait—wasn’t her son supposed to grow up and go on strike?! That wasn’t in the original ending! Is this really a happy ending?!’
…Then again.
Even Adeline’s sudden death a year ago wasn’t part of the original story.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Oh, nothing. Mmm, this is really good!”
A little flustered, I exaggerated my reaction and focused on the food.
The hellish spiciness cleansed all my stress.
Mmm, I hope the lazy emperor gets a taste of this fire someday.
“We should definitely come here often!”
“Y-Yeah, sure.”
Mr. Smith’s hand trembled.
I smiled as I watched him force down spoonfuls of stew.
He’s eating it well. We’re definitely coming back here.
As for why our “strike tyrant” went on strike…
Well, that’s a long story.
How long? Maybe about… 369 days’ worth.
“Argh! Again today?!”
I screamed in the quiet office. Raaagh.
But the other aides said nothing. Either they agreed with me, or they were just cautious because I was more senior.
You’re wondering how I’m a senior after only one year?
Because all my colleagues quit within three months.
Which means, practically, I’m the second-in-command after Chief Aide John Smith.
But what good is being second-in-command if…
“He hasn’t signed anything for three days!”
Today marked the third day of being flat-out rejected.
‘That foreign policy document has to be sent by this afternoon!’
Of all the documents, this one needed the emperor’s direct approval.
I tried to understand this country’s slow-paced work culture—after all, even in my past life as an office worker, the European branches were slow to reply—but this was too much.
Being the fast-paced Korean I once was, I snapped.
“I’m doing it! I’m stamping it! Don’t stop me!”
While Chief Smith was out on a half-day trip, I grabbed the seal from his desk.
Panicked junior aides rushed to stop me.
“Miss Poi! No! Just one more day!”
“That’s an official diplomatic document! It needs the emperor’s seal, not the aide’s!”
“I know. I know! That’s why I’ve been to His Majesty for three days straight!”
Normally, even for important documents sent abroad, he’d stamp them after two days of nagging.
“But now he won’t even do that anymore!”
When the country grinds to a halt, it’s the aide’s duty to make it move again.
So, with duty burning in my heart, I went wild with the seal in hand.
“I’m stamping it now.”
The kingdom will understand if I say the emperor refused to give the seal, right?
My chick-like juniors cried.
“Just half a day more, please!”
“Ugh, His Majesty is so cruel. How could an emperor just disappear like this?!”
The emperor used to be a wise ruler.
Even though he ascended the throne young, the empire entered a golden age for the first time in centuries during his first five years.
There were likely two big reasons for his downfall.
Purely speculation, since he never talked about it.
First, his mother Adeline, now the Empress Dowager, suddenly died a year ago. Cause unknown—rumored poisoning.
Second, his trusted political ally, Count Meyer, was falsely accused and purged by other ministers.
After losing two close figures, he seemed to lose the will to govern and locked himself away from the world one day—as if protesting it.
“But was that my fault? Why am I the one suffering?! I didn’t join in the purge!”
The battle of wills continued. One aide trying to stamp, the others trying to stop her.
“Miss Poi! Mr. John Smith is here!”
“What?!”
Just as I was about to press the aide’s seal to paper, I heard that welcome name. I turned, waving at my beloved boss.
“Mr. Smith!”
Then I froze.
Because of what he was holding.
“No way…”
Mr. Smith, radiant as ever, nodded.
“Yes. It’s His Majesty’s seal.”
The imperial seal?
The very one I had been desperately searching for—was in his hands.
