SDD 08

Chapter 8.

1.Becoming the Villain’s Secretary (8)

I bolted out of the office. This time, I made sure—really sure—the door was shut.

As expected, Father was still at the imperial palace, and we went home together after work like a pair of ducks.

And that night, Father came into my room absolutely hammered.

“My daughter! My lovely daughter! My beautiful daughter!”

“Ugh! You reek of alcohol!”

Good grief. Where did this man even drink this much? Didn’t he brag that he’d been sober for twenty-three years?! Lies. All lies.

After dragging him to my bed and sitting him down, he grabbed both of my hands—and suddenly burst into tears.

“D–Dad?”

The old habit slipped out of my mouth from shock.

The Count of Nostalgia melted instantly at that one word—Dad.

Hearing ‘Dad’ for the first time in a long while, he started bawling even harder.

“Yes, I’m your dad. Blain. I’m your dad… Dad will—hic—Dad will save you…”

“W-wait. What?”

Save me from what now?

“F-from that bastard… Dad will definitely save you.”

He pressed my hand to his cheek and sobbed like a child.

“Even Lady Gloomy won’t answer her calls, and I only have you left—hic—Dad will save you. I won’t let that man take you. Just trust me. Okay? Hic—my daughter…”

He must have been really shaken from meeting the Emperor today.

Well, can’t blame him. He’s always been a soft person.

I watched him for a while as he cried himself to sleep, still clutching my hand. A few strands of white hair stood out among the rest.

He used to scare the life out of me at first, but now he’s just… a cute, ridiculous old man.

He isn’t even my real father, yet I feel tenderness toward him—maybe because I really learned to trust him.

I never had a dad before. Somewhere along the way, this man became one.

“You’ve worked hard because of your troublesome daughter. Thank you, Dad.”

And thus another chaotic day came to an end.

I stared blankly at the tower of documents rising to the ceiling.

Helwid spoke.

“You can handle it, right?”

“You’re seriously saying that?”

“I’m always serious.”

He smiled—bright and annoyingly dazzling.

How did this even accumulate in just one day?

“Well, who told you to run away?”

When I glared, he casually spun his fountain pen and flipped a page like he’d done nothing.

Ugh. Infuriating.

“Yesterday YOU gave me a break. YOU followed me even though you knew I ran away. YOU ignored the fact I was kidnapped. YOU sent me home. Where exactly is MY fault here?”

He looked at me, amused.

“So you’re saying you’ll disobey an imperial order?”

So what if he’s the Emperor?

“Being Emperor means exactly that.”

I swear I’m going to take off those medals and teach him humility one day.

“Even without the medals, I’d still win.”

“Stop reading my mind.”

“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore.”

“You always see everything anyway.”

“I don’t read it. I see it. My secretary has a very expressive face. No need to think—your face tells me everything.”

I instinctively touched my face. Helwid laughed, clearly entertained.

“And your movements are dramatic too.”

I feel like I’m being played with from start to finish.

“Oh, and all this needs to be completed by noon tomorrow.”

“…What?”

He’s insane. Noon tomorrow? That means I have today afternoon and tomorrow morning to finish ALL THIS?!

Where did he even get this many documents?!

He really lives to torment me.

No matter how much I glared, Helwid didn’t budge.

Sigh. What a cursed fate. I don’t just have a lot of work—I produce rivers of it.

I took a deep breath and picked up the nearest document.

Time passed—God knows how much—and my whole body ached. The papers still formed a mountain.

Everyone else who transmigrates ends up rich and happy. Why am I the only one stuck doing labor?

Just as I was about to take a short break—click.

“…Huh?”

“What is it?”

Helwid didn’t even look up.

“The door… I heard it lock.”

“Ohhh.”

He smiled gently, like he had done something thoughtful.

“Finish the work, and it’ll unlock.”

“…What?”

“So you don’t run away again.”

“What? N-no, wait. Locking a person inside is a bit… That’s basically confinement—”

“Mm? It is confinement.”

You didn’t know?

NO??

“Confinement is a crime.”

I frowned. Helwid stretched lazily.

“It’s fine. I have a legal reason to confine you.”

“Legal… confinement?”

Why does that sound ominous?

“What reason?”

He answered with a sly grin.

“Overtime.”

…What the hell.

“An employer ordering overtime is perfectly legal.”

“I’m a civil servant.”

“I’m the Emperor.”

OH MY GOD. THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay overtime.”

That’s not the point!!!

While I silently had a mental breakdown, Helwid looked extremely pleased.

“You can’t leave until the work is done. So, good luck.”

“…Food?”

“Provided.”

“Shower?”

“Bathroom’s right there.”

“Sleep?”

He stared at me.

‘With this workload, how could you possibly sleep?’

Kill me.

Please.

“Don’t worry. I’m considerate.”

Sure. Considerate. Right.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

“…What?”

“I’ll stay with you until you’re done.”

“…What?”

“Let’s have a productive night.”

He laughed like he was excited about overnight overtime.

Right then, the bells rang—dong, dong, dong—marking noon.

“Twenty-four hours left.”

He took a sip of lukewarm coffee, voice disturbingly calm.

Somebody. Please knock me unconscious.

“Tsk. You get indigestion every meal.”

The door was still locked. Even the palace priest couldn’t get in.

Regardless of how I begged, the Emperor himself was now pricking my finger to release bad blood.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“You’re literally stabbing me.”

“The blood’s practically black.”

Helwid wiped the drop away with expensive cloth.

“Do you have a weak stomach?”

“No… normally…”

“Then why now?”

Because I’m trapped in a room with you until noon tomorrow, eating every meal while staring at your face.

But I couldn’t say that. He narrowed his eyes knowingly.

His blue eyes narrowed—dangerously close—and my breath caught.

Before I could look away, he smiled like a predator.

“Oh, Count Nostalgia came looking for you.”

“Father?”

“Yes. I informed him that you’ll be released at noon tomorrow.”

My adorable emotional mess of a father must have exploded.

“So? Where is he now?”

“I sent him away politely.”

Of course. I wasn’t expecting much.

“He left just like that?”

“I said I’d imprison him if he didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Of course, I meant imprisoning you.”

“…Me?”

“You.”

“But he’s the Count!”

“And? I can’t imprison a Count.”

He smiled like it was obvious.

So I get ‘legal confinement,’ but the nobleman is immune? Unbelievable.

“Anyway. We’re halfway done already. As expected of the secretary I chose.”

You give the disease and the cure.

“I gave the cure too. I pricked your finger.”

I refused to respond.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He brewed it himself. The Emperor. Making coffee. With his own hands.

Because assassins sometimes poison his tea, everything he drinks must be tested and made with silver utensils.

Even so—the Emperor making coffee?

“My secretary likes coffee, not tea. We have that in common.”

He handed me a cup with a pleasant smile.

Well… every office worker prefers coffee during forced overtime.

And why is he still here? Don’t emperors usually slack off? Why does this one work harder than anyone?

I sipped the coffee while sneaking glances at him.

Maybe because he brewed it himself, but the aroma tasted… better.