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The bomb went off without warning.

Calling it a ‘bomb’ might not at all be accurate, but one thing was for sure—it came out of nowhere.

Starting March 1378, a new welfare policy will be implemented for dispatched workers. The system will begin as a pilot program in the Ministry of the Imperial Household, Ministry of Finance, and Ministry of Foreign Affairs, with the goal of expanding it to all departments and ministries by June 1380.

While I was debating what gift would be suitable for the Mage Duchess’s upcoming birthday, an unexpected notice was broadcasted through the communication crystals from the Ministry of the Imperial Household. Given that the Ministry was essentially the Emperor’s mouthpiece, this was effectively a decree from the Imperial Family, or more specifically, from the Crown Prince himself.

What’s this about?

The problem was how abrupt and inexplicable the order seemed. Welfare for dispatched workers, starting with the Ministries of the Imperial Household, Finance, and Foreign Affairs?

Well, it was labeled as a welfare policy, so that couldn’t be a bad thing. And since the Finance Ministry was included, that meant I was covered as well. If I had to choose, I’d say it was good news.

But why?

The real issue was that I couldn’t figure out the intent behind it. The guiding principle of the Kefellofen Empire was that the country and its people prospered only when its civil servants were worked to the bone. This had been the unshakable belief since the time of the first emperor, Amanca the Great.

Even the current Emperor and Crown Prince seemed to believe that they were the reincarnations of Amanca as they ground themselves down like cogs in the machine of the Empire.

And now, you’re telling me that this Imperial family was establishing a welfare system that gave its underlings a breather? Voluntarily too, without anyone begging or petitioning for it? With no strings attached?

Yeah, right.

There was no way that was true. The Imperial family was a group that never made a deal where they lost. Even when they granted something, they always took something in return. They were ruthless like that.

On the flip side, they never demanded labor without proper compensation, but their meticulousness only made me more suspicious. The Imperial family I’d seen and dealt with never did anything with pure intentions.

Yes, there had to be something going on here, something I wasn’t seeing.

Two days of leave will be granted for every three weeks of dispatch. This leave can be used immediately upon return and will be treated as a priority request.

…But honestly, who cared even if there was an ulterior motive?

“Two days for every three weeks?”

My hands trembled as I read the detailed benefits. If this applied to my dispatch at the Academy, then I’d get over ten days of vacation in a single semester.

Wow, ten days? And it was a guaranteed priority leave, so there was no need to worry about it being delayed? This was incredible! My past experiences may have warned me about hidden traps in too-good-to-be-true offers, but who cared? If this was poison, then I might as well make the most of it.

All I had to do was to keep my mouth shut, and I’d be guaranteed ten days of leave every semester. From the second semester of my second year to the second semester of my third year, that was at least 40 days of vacation.

“Not bad.”

It was so good that I might even skip my usual prayer for the Crown Prince’s longevity for today, at least.

***In the end, I accepted the Mage Duchess’s request. As embarrassing as it felt to handle something so trivial under the name of the Imperial Family, I realized that it wasn’t worth straining our relationship over something small.

Yeah, I should think of it positively. It would be beneficial in the long run if this policy boosted the morale of the civil servants. Overworking talented individuals meant that they wouldn’t last long. Even the Prosecutors’ Office’s Executive Manager needed to be well-oiled if he was going to last.

Besides, what other situation would call for the Executive Manager to be dispatched, aside from this Academy incident? Two years. If I could endure for just two years, this system would pay off. I could live with that.

A well-loved husband, indeed.

I massaged the back of my neck and let out a soft chuckle. The Mage Duchess, who even the Emperor could not easily deal with, was a recluse who spent all her time in the Magic Tower, indifferent to political power and personal connections.

But the moment she fell in love, she began moving decisively, willing to do anything no matter how strange for the one she loved. It was clear that the Executive Manager was truly loved and cherished.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but worry. Despite the Mage Duchess being of mixed blood, she still carried the longevity of her lineage. Inevitably, the Prosecutors’ Office’s Executive Manager would pass away first. When the previous Duke Servette died, the Mage Duchess’s mother followed him soon after. I couldn’t help but worry that this deep love may one day turn into a source of great sorrow.

That’s not acceptable.

The Mage Duchess had supported the Empire for a hundred years and was expected to continue doing so for hundreds more. While we couldn’t stop her from eventually returning to the arms of Enen when her time came, an untimely death due to illness was unacceptable.

So, ensuring the Executive Manager lived a long life by supplying him with all sorts of potions was essential for the Empire’s stability. I don’t expect him to live as long as the Mage Duchess, but it would be enough if he could reach 150 years.

Actually, the Mage Duchess likely already knew what I was worrying about. She was probably working on something as we speak. In that case, why stop at 150? Why not aim for 300 years?

300 years, huh.

A smile crept across my face. The Empire was 300 years old, and now the Executive Manager would ensure its stability for another 300 years.

Wasn’t that an amusing—no, wonderful thought? The Empire’s future would be incredibly bright if my son, grandson, great-grandson, and even great-great-grandson could benefit from the Executive Manager’s loyalty. It might sound like a far-fetched dream, but still.

***…300 years. It feels like it might actually happen. After all, the Mage Duchess’s love was heavy enough to turn a wild fantasy into reality.

“Your Majesty, this is—”

“It’s just as the Crown Prince has stated.”

The Emperor had summoned me urgently, and he handed me a document as soon as I arrived in his office.

However, the content of the document didn’t seem worth the paper it was printed on.

“The Mage Duchess is going to the Academy.”

Although he spoke in a calm voice, his expression and posture revealed confusion and unease. It was rare to see the Emperor display such emotion.

But I understood. Anyone would feel the same after reading this document.

The Academy?

What in the world did this mean? The Mage Duchess was going to the Academy? If I weren’t in front of the Emperor, I’d have grabbed my head in disbelief and collapsed.

I knew that the Magic Tower sent a mage to the Academy every year to teach the students. The whole program started at the Imperial Family’s request, so how could I not know? Having top-notch mages from the Tower educate the future leaders of the Empire was a blessing for both the Empire and the Imperial Family.

However, this was different. The Imperial Family wanted teachers to guide the future, not a monster who would intimidate and terrify the students. It was no different sending someone higher-ranking than the Academy’s Principal to serve as an instructor.

“The Mage Duchess seems quite attached to the idea of mentoring. We’ll likely see an extraordinary mage emerge within the next ten years.”

I kept my mouth shut, unable to respond as the Emperor continued in a low voice.

A disciple?

I couldn’t agree. No matter how much I thought about it, the Mage Duchess going to the Academy had nothing to do with mentorship. It had to be for another reason—perhaps something related to the heir of the Krasius family, or the Executive Manager, or even the Academy’s Inspector.

“Also, if the Mage Duchess stays at the Academy, it will be an unparalleled experience for the foreign students. As the host, this is a delightful development.”

“Yes, it is.”

All I could do was bow my head in agreement. If the Emperor believed so, then it must be right.

With the document already on the Emperor’s desk, the Mage Duchess’s dispatch was essentially confirmed. The Imperial Family could intervene, but interfering with what the Mage Duchess wanted would only create friction between the Imperial Family and a key ally. This wasn’t something we could block; it was just something we didn’t fully understand.

On top of that, it seemed like the Emperor intended to use this opportunity to apply more pressure on the neighboring three kingdoms. If the Executive Manager and the Mage Duchess both remained at the Academy, the burden on those countries would be immense. Regardless of the reasons their nobles enrolled, none of them would be able to move lightly now.

The Mage Duchess’s decision to go to the Academy was purely for the sake of teaching. No matter the pretense, it was only natural for a mentor to act for the benefit of their students. Even if the three neighboring kingdoms protested, it would be easy enough to deflect their concerns.

…That’s probably how he sees it.

I felt conflicted. The Emperor, faced with a situation beyond comprehension, was trying hard to think positively and focus on the benefits and happier possibilities.

He was intentionally ignoring the ripple effects that the Mage Duchess’s actions would cause—the political turmoil, the diplomatic issues—and only talked about the advantages and opportunities that might arise. Because if he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t be able to maintain his composure.

Is this really something one person should have to deal with?

When I think about it, the Emperor’s reign had been more turbulent than anyone else’s. From the moment he ascended to the throne, he carried the label of being the Empire’s first non-direct line emperor. How could his reign not be full of challenges?

The Empire he inherited was riddled with corruption, famine, and the growing influence of the Church. One of the dukes, the Gold Duke, had taken twelve wives to extend his power through his in-laws, and skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms were frequent along the borders. The Emperor had to drag the Empire back onto a stable course, only for the Great War to erupt, followed by a prolonged succession dispute.

It’s horrifying.

After facing so many consecutive crises, you’d think things would settle down. Yet, the Executive Manager had become the center of the storm lately, causing all kinds of chaos. It was understandable that the Emperor’s mental strength would be worn thin.

“The Mage Duchess’s long absence is unprecedented. Be prepared, Crown Prince.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

What a shame.

***My ears are ringing.

“Take me with you! I want to go toooo!”

I’d love to ignore it, but the way she was flailing so desperately made it impossible to turn away.

“It’s unfair that four of them get to go to the Academy! You’re leaving me and Penellia behind!”

And her argument had a point, which made it even harder to brush off.

“It’s so unfair! It’s really unfair!”

“I didn’t know, either…”

“Just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean it didn’t happen!”

She’s right…

Her surprisingly logical argument shut me up again. Why does she always make so much sense at times like this?

“If Beatrix gets to go to the Academy, then Penellia and I should go too!”

I couldn’t help but be touched by her consideration for Penelia, the 4th Manager. It showed that they really were close friends.

…

Damn it.

I felt dizzy. The fact that the Mage Duchess was going to the Academy as a guest lecturer? That was something I never could’ve imagined…