81

“You’ve fallen for a very bad man.”

He’d deliberately picked an innocent new recruit. He presented polished competence born of experience, disguised the age gap as maturity, then soothed her with homely images. When that failed, he feigned ignorance—he’s a rotten man.

Penguin bowed her head as if full of self-reproach. I wanted her to see she didn’t need to feel that way.

“I’ll start with praise. You cut it off before it became irreversible for you. You did really well.”

Most people let it slide. They delude themselves into imagining a new life. But that man will never divorce; if there are no problems at home, he has even less reason to give it up.

“I did…?”

Penguin slowly lifted her head, voice trembling as if she hadn’t expected praise.

“Even if you felt those emotions you described, you refused decisively. Do you know why? Because Penguin knows her own worth. Regardless of his intentions, you hold a firm conviction that it’s simply not acceptable.”

“Do you really think so…?”

She was still reeling from the aftershocks of making the right choice. Many things that had sustained her felt shaken by the storm.

“From my view, Penguin’s feelings now look like ethical disgust rather than lingering affection. Having worked longer, I think the positive feelings are already in the past—more like admiration from afar. May I put it more bluntly?”

Penguin tilted her head in confusion, then nodded.

“At first you said he seemed impressive because he was competent and kind. Really? You said there’s a big age gap—how old is he?”

“Twelve… years.”

I cursed inwardly, then went on.

“You said he looked skillful. To be honest, if you worked until that age, you could handle those tasks too. I guarantee it. He probably seemed that way because you’re still young and inexperienced. He might indeed be capable, but if Penguin had more experience, she wouldn’t have been so dazzled. People don’t mistake professional ability for romantic feeling.”

“Ah….”

“If he truly liked you, his attitude wouldn’t have changed after you made your rejection clear. He should have kept doing his job professionally. Instead he treated you like an emotional trash bin—dumping everything on you because you were obedient or friendly. Like a conduit that only pours out his negativity. No matter how strong Penguin’s mental fortitude, it’s not easy to hear that every day from someone you meet face-to-face. That’s not a sign of affection.”

“Emotional… trash bin… Right, that’s how it was.”

The vague sensations she’d been feeling began to clarify.

“The important thing is Penguin made a choice. She decided to uphold her ethical convictions.”

“Yes. I don’t regret that.”

She was intelligent—no romantic experience, but a clear sense of judgment.

“If it’s mentally unbearable and he’s sitting next to you, I wouldn’t tell you to endure it. Actually, Penguin knows best what the proper revenge is against men like him.”

“Changing jobs?”

“Yes. Go somewhere better, get better treatment, meet better people. There’s no need to wallow in the mud. It’s bad for your mental health—especially since Penguin has no immunity. Immediate punishment isn’t the only right answer. Choose to treasure yourself.”

Penguin’s hands, which had trembled through the whole conversation, steadied.

Her voice shook, but it was steadier than before.

“Thanks to Master Quokka, a lot of the confusion about what happened and how I felt has been resolved. I feel much lighter. Honestly, I had nowhere to unburden myself… I didn’t expect much coming here… sigh I even came prepared to be criticized. I didn’t expect you to tell me I did well, that it wasn’t my fault… sob… Thank you so much. Really… I’m glad I came here.”

“When that kind of situation actually happens, it’s not easy to handle, so you did really well.”

Seeing Penguin cry so much that the inside of her mask was wet almost made my own eyes sting. I hoped she’d get through this and find someone who cherished only her.

“You said you’re worried about changing jobs? If your mind’s settled, you’ve completed the basic preparation. If it’s okay, bring your resume. I’ll look it over. I’ll guarantee secrecy. And let’s think about something new besides that guy. What do you want to do going forward? You don’t need grand reasons—wanting to make a lot of money is fine. If your current job doesn’t suit you, look for another. Think a bit more broadly and give your heart a rest.”

I’m no expert, but I tried to offer sincere comfort.

Penguin’s voice was nasal as she left the consultation, but it was distinctly brighter.

After that, she came often for job-change consultations. Having something to focus on made it easier for her to shake off the depression, and I felt proud. It was hard now, but it would become an occasion that made her stronger.

‘By the way, I’m getting a lot of job-change consultations.’

Lately inquiries had become frequent—maybe many people had experienced confession attacks like mine.

I ended the last session by offering a reference check, advising them to refrain from making a scene from now on.

‘I can’t even decide my own direction—what am I doing counseling others?’

Isn’t it said a monk can’t shave his own head? Watching myself give all sorts of advice to wandering clients made me think.

The Chancellery had regained peace after a long time.

Assistant scribes, scribes, and secretaries busied themselves through mountains of piled-up documents. Still, with the Chief Justice’s requests gone, the usual workload had been restored.

At that moment, a notification popped up on the communication artifact.

‘Crown Prince’s Palace?’

Hello.

Chancellery First-grade Secretary Cornelia Libertas.

His Highness the Crown Prince requests the secretary.

Please come to the Crown Prince’s Palace immediately.

‘The Crown Prince…? Why?’

A frown formed between my brows. A summons right before leaving work was awkward, but when royalty called, I had to go. I stood, explained the situation to Senior Lucius, and left the Chancellery.

‘Why would he call me?’

It was no secret I was on the Minister of Finance’s line, so he couldn’t be unaware. If he intended to make me do some pompous task like that other fellow, he’d chosen the wrong person. The question nagged me on the way to the lavish Crown Prince’s Palace.

“Your Highness, First-grade Secretary Cornelia Libertas reporting.”

“Come in.”

A slightly sharp voice answered, and the reception room door opened. The room was all classical splendor—white walls and ceiling trimmed with ornate gold, a vivid red carpet covering the floor.

The Crown Prince smiled kindly and gestured to the seat opposite the table.

“Sit.”

I bowed politely and took the seat.

“Hmm, you look even cuter in person. It’s a shame to let you rot away at the Chancellery, you know?”

“…..”

Starting with an appraisal of my looks—grounds for an HR complaint—but I kept my composure. With glossy silver hair and a neat face, I couldn’t fathom why he would diminish his appeal like that.

“You surprised me by calling me suddenly.”

“Ah, my father introduced us at the last banquet, but it seems we didn’t get to speak properly. You seem about the same age; I’d like to get to know you.”

He has a fiancée openly, yet wants to befriend a female employee—his future looks truly bleak. I kept a smile on.

“If you have any questions for me, feel free to ask.”

Since he wouldn’t have summoned me out of boredom, it was a polite way to say “get to the point.” He sipped his tea and spoke.

“You’re the one who exposed the shoddy construction culprit, revealed the Chancellor’s corruption, and proposed the aristocratic asset registration system, right?”

Ah—so he’d called to tidy up the mess.

“My seniors did the major work. I, embarrassingly, played only a small role.”

“Oh?”

“A mere suggestion alone couldn’t have made it real. It happened thanks to advice and help from my seniors.”

“If you say so.”

The Crown Prince looked as if he already knew everything, yet he didn’t press further. Instead he asked another question.

“Would you join as my aide?”

“…Sorry?”

He’d suddenly offered to recruit me just as I was preparing to refuse the tidy-up task. The Crown Prince tilted the corner of his mouth.

“I fired my current aide because he was useless. I was thinking who to put in, and your name popped up—my father introduced you after all. I think you’d fit in many ways. What do you say?”

What could I say? You, steeped in corruption, are an absolute refusal.

“I’m sorry, but I prefer to work at the Chancellery. If you respect that, I’ll work hard for the Empire.”

“Is that so?”

For a moment his voice sharpened. When I met his gaze he still smiled as if untroubled.

“Oh, the tea’s gone cold. Have them replace it with a fresh pot.”

A maid brought a new cup of tea.

“It’s an expensive tea you might never drink in your life. Drink.”

“Ah, yes.”

I didn’t want the tea, but the Crown Prince’s stare was persistent, so I lifted the cup.

‘This feels off.’

I planned only to wet my lips, but suddenly there was commotion outside.

“There’s a guest right now, you can’t come in—!”

The reception room door flew open.

“Supreme Justice?”

He strode in and roughly knocked the teacup from my hand. The cup spun and landed in a potted plant by the window.

Clang!

“You, what are you doing right now?!”

The Crown Prince raised his voice. The teacup smashing into the plant made my heart drop.

The flowers that had been in bloom withered instantly.

A chill ran down the back of my neck.