The heated atmosphere in the conference hall flash-froze.

The more seasoned officials, those with decades of political experience, simply clicked their tongues inaudibly and turned their gazes away. The officials from departments other than Culture clutched their pens, bowed their heads, and pretended not to have heard a thing.

They thought they’d caught a mouse, only to find they’d grabbed a tiger by the tail. At best, this would end in bloodshed; at worst, it was the end of a career. Jin continued to fix Daph Rontine with an icy stare, his silence a command to speak.

“Ah, Your Highness, that… that is not what I meant,” Daph stammered.

“Not what you meant?” Jin’s voice was a silken threat. “Then I am at a loss. How truly regrettable. A Crown Prince who cannot even grasp the simple meaning of his subordinate’s words. I cannot fathom how you have managed to work under me for so long. It must have been dreadfully frustrating for you.”

It was a taunt with a razor’s edge. Those who had hoped the moment would simply pass squeezed their eyes shut. The Prince’s venom was poised to spread to the entire Ministry of Culture; a clean amputation was now the only option. The man seated directly in front of the unfortunate speaker slowly raised his head.

“I am Delma, Minister of Culture. Your Highness, as his superior, I take full responsibility for Daph’s blunder and will censure him accordingly. I implore you to quell your anger and compose yourself. Surely one cannot compare Your Highness, a man of noble birth, to the Minister of Magic, who hails from the borderlands, can they? Lord Ian Hielo, I trust you would agree.”

Everyone passes through childhood. But to be young does not mean to occupy the same station.

Ian answered Delma’s rhetorical question with a serene smile.

“Of course. As you say, His Highness and I cannot be measured by the same standard. However, the same is true for me. It would be… problematic for you all—or, to be precise, for Lord Daph Rontine specifically, to judge me by the standard of a mere ‘child.’ You see, I am a mage.”

Of all the departments in the palace, only the Ministry of Magic had the authority to select its own candidates for Minister. This meant that the trust, faith, and respect of its members were the ultimate criteria for the position—a testament to the formidable power one had to possess.

Ian drew a long, deliberate line under Daph Rontine’s name on his notepad and looked up.

“Lord Daph Rontine, you who claimed my youth was a problem. What say you now? Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, yes! I… I have no objection,” he stammered.

“Excellent. Then let us move on. As Minister Delma of Culture was the last to speak, we shall first address the matters concerning her department.”

At a subtle gesture from Ian, a mage stepped forward and placed a new report in his hands. The officials leaned in, their eyes fixed on the document, but Ian turned the pages with unhurried grace.

“First, regarding the intrusion by Rutherford, I offer no excuses. It was a failing of the Ministry of Magic, which is responsible for a significant portion of the palace’s security. As the one in charge at the time, I fully acknowledge this and offer my sincerest apologies to the Imperial Family and the citizens of the empire.”

So that’s his play. A murmur of satisfaction rippled through a certain faction. Of course. The incident was too clear-cut, no matter how much time had passed. What could a boy who had just returned possibly do but bow his head and grovel? Several officials exchanged triumphant glances, nodding to one another in a silent pact to press their advantage.

Their satisfaction was short-lived.

Ian looked directly at Minister Delma. “However,” he continued, his tone perfectly level, “ensuring the safety of the palace is not a duty assigned solely to the Ministry of Magic. The Imperial Defense Ministry and the Royal Guard are directly involved, and indirectly, every department must do its part. You stated that at the time, all responsible parties were dismissed to restore integrity. Is that correct?”

Minister Delma’s eyes darted toward Minister Tweller of Imperial Defense. Why was he suddenly dragging them into this? But Tweller’s expression remained impassive, as if he had expected this very line of questioning. The implication was clear: he had been briefed beforehand.

The other officials shifted uneasily, whispering amongst themselves.

“He’s asking why only the Ministry of Magic is being targeted when the heads of Imperial Defense and the Royal Guard are still in their positions, isn’t he?”

“He’s daring us. To attack the Ministry of Magic, we must be prepared to attack Imperial Defense and the Royal Guard as well. And that is tantamount to opposing the Crown Prince himself.”

“Gods above… does the boy hide a dagger beneath his tongue?”

“Shh! Quiet! Do not call him a boy.”

Scritch, scritch. Ian’s pen danced across the page as he glanced at Minister Delma, who had yet to answer his question. She was clearly scrambling for a suitable response. Ian did not grant her the time.

“Furthermore, Minister Delma, you are surely aware that Rutherford used a painting in the exhibition hall as a gateway. And are not all works of art within the palace the purview of the Ministry of Culture?”

“Choose your words carefully!” Delma snapped. “That was unequivocally the domain of magic! It was a problem for the Ministry of Magic to handle before it ever became a concern for Culture!”

“The magic embedded in the painting, perhaps. But its origin? The artist who painted it? The route by which it entered the palace? Should you not have known these things? If the acquisition process had been clear, you would have known Rutherford’s hand was involved from the start. As much as the Ministry of Magic bears responsibility, so too does the Ministry of Culture. Do you have any objection to that?”

“That is why the former Minister of Culture resigned,” she retorted.

“And you were his successor, Minister Delma. Yet no follow-up investigation was ever conducted. Is that not a dereliction of duty?” Ian held up the report as if offering her a look. Delma’s face contorted into an unfiltered scowl.

“Watch yourself, Lord Ian. Rutherford’s faction vanished along with you, and with them, countless treasures were lost. The Ministry of Culture has been focused on recovering those treasures, not neglecting its duties.”

“And how many have you recovered? Those treasures.”

As if he’d walked right into her trap, Delma leaned forward slightly, her voice a low growl. “Not even a quarter. Rutherford’s intrusion may be debatable, but the loss of the treasures is unequivocally the fault of the Ministry of Magic. At the time, you were the only ones who confronted him. How will you take responsibility for this? The Ministry of Culture has suffered immense losses because of it.”

“You must choose your words carefully, Minister Delma,” Ian said, his voice soft, a placid smile on his face as he echoed her own words back to her.

“What… what did you say?”

“It is not the Ministry of Culture’s loss,” Ian clarified. “It is the Imperial Family’s loss. The treasures belong to the Imperial House, so if compensation is to be demanded, it is the Imperial House that should demand it of the Ministry of Magic. Am I wrong?”

“…!” Delma was struck speechless. He was, technically, correct. Her ministry was tasked with managing and recovering valuables on behalf of the Imperial Family.

“As for the lost treasures,” Ian continued smoothly, “I will submit a separate proposal for their resolution directly to His Highness the Crown Prince. To do so, of course, my reinstatement as Minister of Magic would be the first necessary step.”

“Just a moment! The Ministry of Culture has been in charge of this matter until now. Are you telling us to stand aside like a dog that’s lost the scent?”

Just as officials guarded their right to speak, so too did each department guard its jurisdiction. The authority tied to a task and the prestige earned upon its completion defined a department’s value and purpose. For the Ministry of Culture, recovering the treasures was among its most critical, untouchable duties. Their stance was clear: the Ministry of Magic could take the blame, but the work would remain with them.

Ian shrugged, feigning complete bewilderment. “If you wish to continue, you are more than welcome.”

You little—

“Lord Ian!”

“In reviewing the budgets of the last decade, I’ve noted that the funds and personnel allocated to the Ministry of Magic have been shared among quite a few departments. It seems they were requisitioned as ‘loans,’ yet very little has been properly returned.” Ian’s eyes scanned the densely packed numbers on the page. “The Ministry of Culture, for instance, borrowed three thousand gold coins. Have you ever bothered to calculate the interest?”

“Th-that was done through proper channels! It was a legitimate transaction between departments, overseen by the Administration!”

“I asked about the interest,” Ian pressed, his tone mild. “Surely you are familiar with the concept of interest.”

“This is an insult!”

Bang!

Delma slammed her hands on the table in protest. In response, Ian casually tossed the report onto his own desk.

“Six departments, including your own, have requisitioned funds from the Ministry of Magic’s budget. Not a single one has made proper repayment. That is an insult, Minister Delma.”

Jin, who had been observing with his fingers steepled, gestured languidly at Delma, silencing her.

“It is only right that what was given is returned to its proper place,” the prince stated, his voice cold and final. “Ministry of Culture, you will choose. Will you bear both the responsibility and the task at hand, or will you relinquish them both?”

To oppose Ian now meant surrendering the treasure recovery operation to the Ministry of Magic. While taking on the blame might have been a burden immediately after the incident, after so much time, it was a manageable price to pay to retain control.

Delma’s subordinates leaned in, whispering urgently.

“Minister, he’s made the budget issue official. He will undoubtedly use it as leverage against us. It would be best to retreat for now.”

“Yes, we should withdraw from this line of attack.”

Delma gnawed on her lip, taking a moment to compose herself. The other departments, from the moment Ian had mentioned the budget, had already devolved into frantic, hushed conferences of their own. She took a slow sip of water, her decision made.

“…I have no further objections. The Ministry of Culture will take full responsibility for the loss of the treasures and see the task of their recovery through to the end, Your Highness.”

“Very well. So it shall be.”

The matters of Ian’s identity and the responsibility for the lost treasures were settled. Ian drew two neat lines through his notes and added one final remark to Delma.

“Then I advise the Ministry of Culture to manage its finances with greater prudence from now on. I will be demanding full repayment of the loan, with interest, before the first half of the year is out.”

“…”

“We have no further questions for Minister Ian Hielo.”

“Yes, the same for us. We will not proceed with the cross-checking session.”

Two other department heads, having reached their own conclusions, quickly raised their hands and withdrew. Ian nodded as if to commend their sound judgment and closed his report.

“Well then,” he said, his smile suddenly, inexplicably bright. “All that remains is the matter of my personal qualifications. The fact that I was, by your assessment, unable to stand against Rutherford with magic.”

The sudden, beatific glow about him was jarring. The officials could only blink.

“Rutherford is not a mage,” Ian announced. “He is human.”

“What… what did you say?”

“What nonsense is this? You yourself just said you couldn’t face him because of magic! And countless mages followed him. How can you claim he is a common man? It makes no sense!”

“There was a contract magic binding me to Rutherford—a contract held in place by my own power. In the Abyss, however, I severed that link. There is no longer any connection between us. Therefore,” Ian concluded, his voice ringing with absolute certainty, “I will not lose to him again.”

From the back of the room, Haile, who had been listening silently, raised his hand. As the officials’ gazes turned, Ian glanced over his shoulder.

“Forgive the interruption, but Lord Ian has never lost to him before.”

“That’s right!” another mage chimed in. “Lost? What loss? He threw the bastard into the Abyss! And he gave him hell down there, too!”

“You, be quiet.”

“I share the same opinion,” a third mage said, her voice firm. “The Ministry of Magic did not lose to Rutherford. To even debate our Minister’s qualifications is fundamentally unjust.”

“What is your definition of defeat? Casualties are an unfortunate reality in any battle. Nothing is over yet, so how can you diminish the honor of the Ministry of Magic by claiming we have lost?”

“Exactly! This, too, is an insult!”

One by one, the mages found their courage and added their voices to the defense. Ian watched them for a moment, then turned back to the front with a slight shrug. The expressions on the officials’ faces as they stared at the united mages were a sight to behold.

“You heard them,” Ian said. “And, to be frank, I must ask. Do you have an alternative?”

An alternative to the Ministry of Magic, to face a man who walked with the shadow of a god at his back. An alternative that could minimize the empire’s losses and overcome not only Burgos, but Tuloon as well.

As if inviting any suggestion, no matter how small, Ian asked again, his voice echoing in the sudden, profound silence of the hall.

“Do you? Anything at all.”