51

“Yes, I was informed by the Minister of Finance.”

In a professional setting, he was called by his title rather than ‘Master.’ He clearly separated business from personal matters.

“Yes. We want to renew the contractor agreement for the capital avenue construction. I’ve heard the same contract has been used for a long time without changes, and we’d like to add some provisions we hadn’t considered.”

When the staff member who had escorted us here, presumably Mr. Bull, set down the teapot, the Duke lifted the teacup to his lips with a graceful yet indifferent air, then set it down quietly.

“I’d tell you it’s a pointless effort.”

“What do you mean?”

The Duke, exuding a chill, took a negative stance.

“Why redraft a contract whose effect might not even take hold, no, one that nobody follows? Even if there is an existing contract, this is the Ministry of Justice. Drafting a new contract takes a lot of time and energy. We’re not idle enough to bother with that.”

It was a contrast to the relaxed demeanor I had seen at TWCR and even different from how he acted when we were at the Daijo shop. But I hadn’t come all this way to tuck my tail and back down because of the Supreme Justice’s frosty words.

“If it’s a contract nobody follows, then just add a few clauses to the existing one.”

“Would I, as head of the Ministry of Justice, work that sloppily? The contract currently in use was painstakingly created by the previous Supreme Justice and officials. Every contract used by central ministries carries the Ministry of Justice’s guarantee.”

All the better then.

“Now that the Supreme Justice has changed, I propose you overhaul the contracts you think need supplementation.”

“I didn’t take you for someone so bold.”

He meant the ‘me’ from the Daijo shop, the ‘me’ serving as Kiara’s aide. But just as his work mode differs, I wasn’t treating this like customer service either.

“I won’t take much of your time. I simply want to add clauses specifying the circumstances under which a selected contractor’s agreement can be terminated.”

A trace of interest flickered across his indifferent gaze. He uncrossed his legs, picked up last year’s contract from the table, and began to skim it. I continued.

“The current contract merely states something like ‘if the contractor cannot proceed, another contractor will proceed.’ That clause has no criteria for judging when a contractor truly cannot proceed, and even if the contract is terminated, it doesn’t say which other contractor will take over. It’s a clause full of holes.”

“I see. And?”

“I will add specific grounds for contract termination. You may think it’s useless now, but there will definitely come a time when this will be decisively applied.”

“Hmm.”

A slight furrow formed between the brows of his statue-like face, making him seem a touch more human, then he fell silent for a while, tapping the contract with a fountain pen he took from his vest unconsciously.

‘Oh. That’s the fountain pen I gave him.’

I felt quietly pleased. It eased my tension considerably.

“Go ahead.”

The Supreme Justice Duke’s reaction wasn’t bad yet. I took a small breath in and out, then presented my proposal in earnest.

“The grounds for terminating a contractor agreement that I propose are as follows…”

First, when the conditions stated in the contract are violated without prior consultation.

Second, when the facts of the company differ from what is listed on the documents.

Third, when illicit requests or bribery occur during the contractor selection process.

Fourth, when the contractor performs substandard construction.

Fifth, when the contractor damages the honor of the royal household.

“If one or more of the five items above are violated and it is judged to cause significant hindrance to contract performance, the Chancellery may terminate the contract. In such a case… (omitted)… What do you think, Supreme Justice?”

He sat staring at me with widened eyes, as if surprised.

“Supreme Justice?”

“Have you… studied law?”

I would have liked to say I went to law school, but in truth I had simply worked at a company and often had to look at contracts when dealing with outside firms. I had reviewed them carefully, fearing that even a single word could be interpreted unfavorably here.

“No. It’s a proposal based on reasonable common sense anyone would accept.”

“Have you considered joining the Ministry of Justice?”

It was an abrupt recruitment offer. The Duke’s eyes gleamed greedily at the contract and everything else.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll decline.”

The thought of a job that only involved poring over legal codes bored me to death. At my polite refusal, he muttered to himself, “Ah, it was your master’s recommendation,” and nodded. The Duke’s icy gaze was hardly as pronounced as before.

“As you know, the company Rinus would practically meet most of those termination criteria. Drafting the contract you want won’t be difficult—the content is reasonable. But even with a new contract, nothing will change. Still, as you said, it will surely help in the future.”

Good. He accepted my proposal.

Like Mr. Bull said, he had a notorious reputation, but he did act reasonably about business. He wasn’t inflexible when it came to solving problems.

“Thank you, Supreme Justice!”

“Send the contract to the Chancellery as soon as it’s revised.”

“Yes, I’ll do my best to make the added clauses ready for immediate use.”

“Hmm?”

Not understanding what he meant, I tilted my head at the Duke, bowed, and left the Ministry of Justice with a lighter step. I was glad to have gained something.

‘Now, which cause should I select to proceed with?’

True to form, the Duke quickly revised the contract and sent it to the Chancellery. Since the Minister of Finance had pre-ordered that the old contract be checked by the Ministry of Justice, everyone accepted the new contract without suspicion.

“Where was it revised?”

Senior Lucius muttered as he flipped through the contract, when a cheeky hand snatched the paper.

“Why go through it line by line? Just stamp it quickly.”

“1st secretary! Still, you should at least check.”

“It’s meaningless. I said it’s meaningless.”

With that, he tossed the contract to Elysia.

“Tell them you checked it and forward it to the Minister of Finance.”

“Yes.”

Elysia, taking the contract, left for the Chancellery with a stern face. I had expected it to be glanced over. Once again, I confirmed I had no regrets about my decision.

‘That bastard has to go for this department to even remotely return to normal.’

After revising the contract, what I did next was an on-site investigation.

First, I had to verify whether the information on the application matched the company’s actual situation. Even if we found something, it might not be enough to change anything, but clues start from small things.

“I told you not to follow.”

“How can I just stand by when you’re going to do something so dangerous!”

“Having people from the same industry around will arouse less suspicion, I said.”

Pinea and Nicola, who had come to visit on the weekend, refused when I said there was work to do, so they clung to me like leeches, insisting they couldn’t let me go alone.

“If we’re caught doing something wrong, you’ll put yourselves in danger too!”

Frustrating children. They were being stubborn, not realizing I thought of them kindly because we’d been together since the days of wasteful youth.

“Kiara will protect you from most things.”

Pinea made that outrageous promise.

“You wouldn’t know building materials, Coco. I’m the one who works continuously in the merchant guilds and I know this stuff well. I even develop products.”

They all seemed to have grown in my absence. I was about to tell them to go back, but their determined looks made me give up.

“What are you trusting in to be so reckless… Fine, but be careful. Got it?”

“Don’t worry!”

Pinea skimmed the company’s application in my hand. Thanks to their hard work, both of them could now read and write proficiently.

“Rinus? An unfamiliar name. Though it feels vaguely familiar.”

“They’re a small company, yet strangely they win major Chancellery contracts every year.”

“Oh-ho, so this is our prey?”

“Calling it prey is a bit harsh.”

“Right, Pinea. That was harsh.”

Nicola, at a loss, tried to rein in Pinea.

“Not her—there’s another, the pompous fellow.”

“Figures…”

Pinea looked disgusted but not surprised. Nicola was the same.

And, to my surprise, the two of them shattered my expectations and proved to be a great help.

When Pinea showed a registration card, claiming she was visiting there on Daijo for business, they let her in without suspicion. Her acting was excellent.

“See? I told you being from the same industry draws less suspicion.”

Inside Rinus it was leisurely but chaotic. Where Daijo was neat and orderly, here things were tossed about and didn’t look managed.

“Their information is all wrong. It says about seventy employees, but at a glance there seem to be only around thirty. They claim to specialize in construction, yet there’s no sign of master craftsmen.”

Nicola chimed in as he saw a pile of construction materials stacked on one side.

“The materials… they’re laughable. I can’t believe the royal household would buy these to build the avenue. They’ll wear down in just a few years. Daijo wouldn’t use materials like these even for household goods, let alone construction.”

He then spoke in an even graver tone.

“None of the premium materials listed on the application you gave are here. There are only a few that look similar on the surface.”

They were skimping worse than expected, well past embezzlement into outright fraud. Just then a staff member opened the door and approached where we were, so Pinea, Nicola, and I quickly hid out of sight. The employee sighed deeply upon seeing the building materials.

“Sigh, what disaster are they gonna cause this time?”

A colleague standing beside him whispered.

“Watch your words. Someone might hear.”

In that instant, my eyes met Pinea’s and Nicola’s.

‘Got them.’