Chapter 61
I live in a different time than most people. There are not many opportunities to interact with those who are awake during the day. I don’t particularly enjoy immediate communication. The only time I get information from the outside world is when a well-organized report is delivered in the early hours. The title of the report was enough to give me a general idea of what was going on.
All the information to be reviewed has been quantified and displayed. It was difficult to feel human emotions just by looking at the phrase ‘current mortality rate of neutral faction nobles 2%’. Upon closer inspection, each individual’s life had its own circumstances, but I didn’t want to empathize with those who would be affected by my decisions.
There were over a thousand reports a day. It’s up to me to read the context of this information, and while we can all have different interpretations of the same material, the ability to distill it down to its essence was directly related to the quality of our work. Clearly, the world was changing while Lecan was away.
‘Without Lecan, the neutral faction easily crumbles.’
Of course, the common people still preferred Lecan. When examining the frequency of mentions of the imperial family in major newspapers, a leading indicator of imperial support, the ratio of negative words mentioned alongside them was overwhelmingly high. Pouring out negative articles about Lecan still seemed to have little effect.
Despite the Empress’s good deeds and budgetary public relations efforts, negative public opinion of her remained strong.
People were cheering Lecan as a national hero for traveling north to capture Drakeshine when he didn’t have to. His hardships were perceived solely as plausible elements of growth.
Even though his men were rightfully being investigated and found to be guilty of clear and presentable crimes, the people saw it as political retribution. The more trouble Lecan got into, the more the bards heroized him, immortalizing him in plays and songs.
Public sentiment was consolidating around Lecan, and once it became explicitly visible, the sparks would be ignited, gradually building up to an imminent explosion.
Lecan could never return.
For the month he was gone, I lived and breathed numbers. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to see anyone. The direction all the numbers were pointing was clear—Lecan was destined to become the new rule of the country.
“The fundamental cause is people’s discontent. The only thing that can quell it is to provide hope through tangible improvements in their daily lives,” I murmured, looking at Duchess de Trippé.
It had been over a hundred years since the imperial power had been respected. Even the founding myths, which people had somewhat accepted, were now being questioned for their authenticity. The expectations of the people towards the imperial family, repeatedly betrayed, had led to complete loss of trust.
The concept of a nation was nothing more than a virtual idea built on the trust of the people. If even a few individuals stopped believing in it, the end would be near.
“Even if we introduce policies now, it might take several years to see the effects. Until the people feel it, the real impact of this imperial family won’t be known.”
Meow.
Will I stay?
‘Of course, I’ll stay. Because Lecan will die soon.’
Thoroughly calculating and sending Lecan to the volcano that would soon erupt, I lived in constant fear every day. Did the volcano erupt today? Did Lecan die today? What if Lecan really died? What if he truly, really stopped breathing after I wished for his death?
I didn’t know what I was doing either, my heart plummeting with every breath I took, my mind foggy, so I pushed myself harder, crunching numbers, working until I collapsed from exhaustion, studying whenever I got a break, never letting my brain rest.
Whenever there was a brief moment to catch my breath, Lecan would flash before my eyes. Do I really want him dead? A voice inside me kept asking. Heaven’s mandate pointed to Lecan. History chose Lecan. Do I deserve to crush the hopes of a nation that may never rise again?
Do I have the right? Do I?
Even though I seemed to be nonchalantly dedicated to my work, my insides were a mess. Perhaps I was the one who knew Lecan better than anyone on the continent. Just as Lecan seemed to recognize my worth before anyone else, I also understood his value.
‘He has the makings of an emperor. He will become a great ruler.’
The territory managed by Lecan had a higher level of happiness than any other place in the empire. The residents were healthy, the marriage rate was high, and children were constantly being born. The crime rate was low, employment was high, taxes were used honestly, and subordinates received appropriate rewards and punishments. It had been like that for generations.
So, Lecan’s family must have always been under the scrutiny of the imperial family, moving constantly to the border regions to avoid their scrutiny.
‘My family has been falsely accused of treason and exiled. Only I can remove the stigma from my blood. I am the only one who can prove that I am not the traitor’s seed.’
If that’s the case, I couldn’t let the current imperial family collapse. But is my choice really right? Is it justifiable to lead Lecan to a death buried under volcanic ash, where even his corpse cannot be found? Can I extinguish the beacon of hope that everyone desires?
Must I be the one to snuff out its glorious flame, in the name of loyalty to the one I honor, for the good of the Empire?
“…When his aura fades, let me know somehow.”
I handed the cat a handkerchief and let her sniff it. The cat wasn’t called Duchess de Trippé for nothing. Trippé knew how to read the energy of mana.
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