Chapter 391: King of Inspection (1)

At just twenty-something, I became the godfather of the Imperial Heir—a political titan in the making, expected to (literally) carry the next empress on my back someday. I gained an absurdly weighty title overnight… but my life didn’t really change.

Well, I’d need to mingle with others to truly feel the impact of my newfound fame. But I’d been holed up at the academy, surrounded by the same familiar faces day in and day out. And nobody was coming up to me and trying to make friends since I’d never cared for socializing, either.

So this is it.

That was how underwhelming it felt. The weight of the ‘godfather’ title only crushed me from the day the Crown Prince informed me until the day of the imperial heir’s investiture. Once it was over, things were surprisingly calm.

It might be different if I were actually caring for the baby at the palace, but letting an amateur handle a week-old infant was risky business. Even the Crown Princess needed permission from the experienced maids to touch and hold the baby.

A baby, huh.

I unconsciously lowered my gaze, staring blankly at the hands that briefly held the imperial heir during the investiture.

“Aaah—“

I could still hear the baby’s coo echoing in my ears. It was the faintest of sounds, but it stubbornly refused to leave my mind.

Strange. A baby who couldn’t even open her eyes properly, who could barely move her fingers, somehow felt… significant. Was it just the charm of babies getting to me?

“She’s already babbling—so clever!”

Of course, I wasn’t nearly as smitten as the Crown Prince. His face split into a massive grin of pure joy when he finally heard the baby’s babbling after the investiture.

To be fair, it was his first child, so the reaction made sense. Maybe that meant I was the weird one for being so calm?

…It’s a good thing to care about your goddaughter, right?

After a brief internal debate, I settled on a simple conclusion and flopped onto my bed.

If I was going to be her godfather, I might as well care for her with love. At this point, I could even think of it as practice for raising my future kids.

Let’s be a good godfather.

My goal? Get her to one day say, ‘I like Godfather more than Father.’

Just imagining the Crown Prince’s face if that ever happened was enough to make my heart race.

Lately, I’ve grown afraid of death.

There are many beliefs about what happens after you die. One says that those who lived virtuously will ascend to the heavens where Enen resides, while those who sinned are cast into hell.

And if that’s true, then I’ve got good odds of reaching heaven—after all, I’ve served the Imperial Family and the Empire faithfully as Crown Prince—

I’d probably just end up disappointed.

Because, truthfully, I’m already living in heaven. How depressing would that be if the afterlife turns out to be less fulfilling than this? There’d be no point.

But it can’t be helped. This is Enen’s fault for accidentally sending an angel down to earth.

“Aah—“

“There, there. Mommy’s here.”

The Crown Princess approached with a soft smile, gently responding to our daughter’s coos. Watching the two of them like that, I found myself smiling as well.

Yes, let’s think positively. Enen sent me these earthly angels to make up for the demonic 2nd Prince, who tormented me. And not just one, but two—my wife and the imperial heir.

The communication crystal in my pocket vibrated as I watched the two angels. I’d only stepped away briefly to visit, but I was technically still on the clock.

Oh no.

I discreetly retreated to a corner to check the crystal. It was an unfortunate message from the Emperor.

I almost sighed out loud.

The resignation of the Minister of the Imperial Household, His Majesty’s partner and confidante for decades.

The Minister of the Imperial Household was my father’s right-hand man and one of the Empire’s greatest contributors to its recovery. Though he was even older than the Emperor, there were quite a few other civil servants who were. I had hoped he would continue for a while longer.

But I couldn’t stop him, not when the Emperor personally approved the resignation. Besides, the position of the Minister of the Imperial Household traditionally served only a single emperor.

He would’ve been replaced when I took the throne anyway.

It was a bitter truth, but an unavoidable one. A new emperor brings in a new chamberlain. That was the empire’s tradition.

The Minister of Finance will have to lead the administration for now.

I couldn’t help but smile wryly at the thought. If His Majesty appoints a new Minister of the Imperial Household, it would negate the current minister’s resignation. But I can’t appoint one of my own people since I haven’t ascended to the throne yet.

Because of that, the Minister of Finance will have to handle this inevitable gap along with his own duties. It’s truly regrettable.

…Hm?

While mentally offering condolences to the Minister of Finance, I kept reading through Father’s message and suddenly came across something that caught my eye.

“Ha.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

It seems that the Emperor intends to make a grand gesture right up until his abdication.

Where there’s an organization, there’s a hierarchy. And where there’s a hierarchy, there are promotions and personnel shifts.

The empire was no exception. In fact, its personnel movements were heavily watched and eagerly anticipated because it ran a government that spanned the entire nation.

Specifically, there were three types of personnel changes: the regular rotations that happened every six months, emergency appointments that filled critical gaps, and lastly, special appointments made to commemorate an imperial celebration.

The appointment of an imperial heir is certainly a joyous imperial occasion.

And today, five days after the investiture, the last of those three scenarios had been set in motion.

…Let’s hope nothing crazy happens this time.

My hands had been trembling ever since I heard there would be a special personnel appointment announcement today.

Thankfully, I survived both of this year’s scheduled rotations unscathed. The recent war also didn’t cause much damage, so there were no emergency shuffles. I had let my guard down… and then the Imperial Heir happened.

It was maddening. Of the three types, only regular changes gave advance notice to those affected. Emergency and special changes came without warning. Wasn’t I made Executive Manager of the Prosecutors’ Office overnight due to an emergency change?

This was terrifying. Honestly, the odds of my getting promoted were ridiculously low as long as the current Minister of Finance stayed put. But the war contributions, and now the godfather title… my résumé was suddenly too well-padded.

It’ll be fine.

I tried to calm myself down, repeating this mantra internally.

Yes, it should be fine. The only place I could be promoted to was the Ministry of Finance, and the current minister was still holding strong. It wasn’t like the Imperial Family was generous enough to force a resignation just to promote me.

…It’s here.

My communication crystal began to vibrate while I kept reassuring myself.

It was out. The blasted, terrifying appointment list was out.

“Please!”

I couldn’t help but cry out desperately. Good thing I was alone in my quarters; anyone nearby would have given me a pitying look.

Of course, I’d gladly take pitying looks if it meant keeping my position as the Executive Manager of the Prosecutors’ Office. Your Majesty, please have mercy on me…!

I quickly skimmed through the ceremonial introduction. I’m sure everyone else reading this did, too.

I scrolled like a madman. Enen’s grace, the Great Emperor’s legacy, imperial prosperity… none of that mattered to me right now.

That part made me pause.

So it’s official. He’s stepped down.

It was the duty of the Minister of the Imperial Household to serve alongside the emperor who appointed them. I expected the Minister to step down soon, but I didn’t think it would happen before the abdication.

Never have I envied the Minister—no, the former Minister of the Imperial Household more than today. Sure, he worked longer than me, but I still felt jealous.

…At least the Minister of Finance position isn’t vacant.

Putting aside my petty envy, I turned my attention back to the crystal.

Since it said that the Minister of Finance would lead the administration, then someone must be filling that role. The question was whether it was the current minister or if I had received a surprise promotion.

Please.

I was fully prepared to bite my tongue and end it all if I saw anything even remotely like ‘The position of Minister of Finance will be filled by Count Karl Crasius of Wiridia.’

And the heavens answered my desperate plea.

I cried inside.

I almost threw the communication crystal across the room after confirming that the Minister of Finance remained unchanged. The rest didn’t matter as long as I wasn’t promoted. There was honestly no chance of me being fired or demoted, anyway.

Still, a basic tenet of working life was to at least pretend to care about other people’s promotions and demotions. If someone you knew was promoted, then you were expected to offer congratulations. So, with a sudden sense of inner peace, I kept scrolling.

What the hell?

And then, I saw it. A line so horrifying it made me forget how to breathe.

At the very end of the paragraph about administrative ministerial appointments was a brief but weighty statement:

I doubted my eyes for a moment.

What… what are they merging? What the hell are they creating…?

…

“Fuck.”

That was all I could say.

There was so much I wanted to scream about—but all that came out was swearing.