Chapter 3….

The male lead gave a light nod and said,

“I’m sorry my explanation was lacking. You’ve got a good eye.”

“N-No, it’s nothing.”

“No, it is a good thing. First… for documents like these, the proper format is…”

As I listened to his explanation, I made a silent vow.

‘Damn it. I should never ask questions again.’

I only asked this time because I couldn’t stand the thought of doing the work twice.

But being competent at work never leads to anything good except more work.

While I’m in the Dirt Spoon Department, I’m going to stay as quiet as a dead mouse and do only what I’m told.

Then, as I casually turned my head, I caught sight of something through the crack in the door.

‘Is that a La-Z-Boy bed…?’

It was lavish and gold-trimmed like something from a romance fantasy world, but no matter how fancy it looked, it was still a cot.

And any cot inside a workplace was just a La-Z-Boy.

I silently rolled my eyes back into place—and met the male lead’s gaze.

Neither of us said a word.

I stared deeply into his eyes for a long moment.

‘Explain yourself.’

What exactly is that horrifying mattress?

And the male lead avoided my stare.

“It’s not something I use every time.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“Only occasionally, when things get especially busy. It’s more convenient to stay here.”

“Yeees…”

Wow. What a flex.

Anyway, please, heroine. Second male lead.

Just stick to your original resolve and join the Dirt Spoon Department!

Truthfully, Carlyle had not possessed even the tiniest speck of expectation for the 218th class of new bureaucrats.

Why?

‘Because they’ll all run off somewhere easier.’

It was true that the Dirt Spoon Department offered the highest salary.

But it was equally infamous for having hellish working conditions.

So ever since its founding three years ago, every new recruit had transferred elsewhere…

‘Though the bigger problem is that there were hardly any recruits worth bringing in to begin with.’

To face dark magic, exceptional magical ability was essential.

And so was extraordinary mental fortitude.

Requirements that were impossible to expect from complete rookies.

…Which was exactly why Carlyle was overloaded every single day, juggling both fieldwork and paperwork at once!

Every day, he ground his teeth over it to Minister Edgar Crow.

[I do not have the capacity to train rookies. Bring me experienced hires.]

[Give up impossible dreams, Rupesque.]

[Then increase the number of staff.]

[That’s impossible too. Even two new recruits is the absolute limit.]

It had been all well and good when Edgar founded the Dirt Spoon Department…

But since so few people even passed the bureaucrat exam, fighting to recruit even one competent talent was a bloody war.

[The “Top-Second-Last Place Group” is coming to our department first this time, right? Pick from there!]

Who exactly had organized groups like that?

In any case, Carlyle’s first impression of the “Top-Second-Last Place Group” was underwhelming.

‘None of the three seem particularly remarkable.’

The top recruit was far too stiff with tension.

And the second-ranked one…

‘He’ll be gone soon anyway, so let’s not comment on the outfit.’

Even mentioning it would only make his own blood vessels suffer.

That left the dead-last recruit, Leila Lowell.

His first impression of the last-place candidate was…

‘Her eyes are different from the others. There’s none of that fresh-faced spirit.’

Most rookies around this time had eyes sparkling with pride and ambition.

But Leila Lowell…

‘She looks dead. Is that why she barely passed in last place?’

And yet, her true value revealed itself somewhere entirely unexpected.

[What font style are we standardizing?]

The moment he heard that question, Carlyle felt as though his heart had stopped.

At his age, it probably wasn’t a heart attack.

No—this was pure, 100% emotional impact.

‘One who understands detail has arrived.’

What tormented perfectionist Carlyle the most?

Mountains of paperwork?

The damned hidden forces behind dark magic?

Those were certainly troublesome, but…!

Nothing was more agonizing than inconsistent, poorly formatted documents.

‘Even after teaching rookies every single time, they always make mistakes.’

Not long after, Leila handed Carlyle the stack of documents she had completed and requested an interim review.

Neatly sorted by category for easy reading!

He hated how moved he felt, but there was no helping it.

‘Last year’s trainees turned everything in mixed together.’

Because of that, Carlyle had wasted precious time rechecking and reorganizing every single page.

Leila looked at him warily and asked,

“How is it?”

“Hmm. One moment…”

Carlyle slowly flipped through the documents one page at a time.

‘Yes, there must be mistakes. Certainly.’

Don’t expect too much.

Then there will be no disappointment.

But with each page he turned, Carlyle’s throat grew drier.

His heart even trembled from the mounting emotion.

“…Perfect.”

“Thank you.”

Leila Lowell returned to her remaining work as though it were nothing.

Seeing that, Yuriana Crosswell whispered to Leila,

“Leila. Could you check this for me…?”

“Hm? Oh. Yuriana, your spacing is off.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“The spacing between letters. If it’s inconsistent, the document looks cluttered.”

“O-Oh! Ah! I’ll fix it!”

“And documents like this are better kept to one page.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That way the recipient doesn’t need to turn the page unnecessarily. Let’s just trim the sentences a little.”

“Wow, okay!”

She was even correcting her peer’s mistakes!

Could that dead-last recruit actually be a heaven-sent talent meant to save him from document hell?

‘No. It’s too early to judge based on this alone.’

Still, Carlyle quietly shut the door hiding the cot.

‘Even if they’re only trainees here for one week.’

This time… it might be worth paying a little more attention.

Before long, it was Friday late afternoon—the final day of the Top-Second-Last Place Group’s tour of the Dirt Spoon Department.

Carlyle clicked his tongue sharply at the sudden order that had arrived.

“Something troublesome came down from above.”

The Emperor’s command was brief.

<By this evening, confirm the trend in the number of dark magic artifact incidents over the last three months.>

‘Should I commit treason?’

Three hundred years ago, the Arpheldt Imperial Family had once suffered a catastrophic loss of authority.

‘The mad emperor’s murder of the Saintess.’

Originally, the Empire had maintained three powers in balance: the Imperial Family, the Temple, and the Nobility.

But 300 years ago, the Emperor committed an unprecedented act of madness—he killed the Saintess.

With the only person capable of purifying dark magic dead, the Empire fell into crisis.

In the end, the nobles were forced to take extreme measures.

They allowed the Imperial Family to preserve only its lineage, while actual governance shifted to the Prime Minister.

‘And yet sometimes, I suppose he wants to remind everyone he still exists.’

Every now and then, the Emperor sent down irritating commands like this.

“Haaah…”

When an Imperial order dropped onto the department, every available person had to mobilize.

Still, Carlyle prepared himself to shoulder the burden alone.

‘A pointless report with no discernible purpose. As if these three will be much help.’

Even if they did assist a little, he’d just have to review everything from scratch anyway.

“All three of you. I need to apologize in advance.”

At Carlyle’s voice, all three looked up at him simultaneously.

“Ordinarily, by policy, we do not request overtime from new recruits… however, an urgent order has come in.”

The first to respond was Leila Lowell.

“Overtime?”

“Haa, yes. I’ll send you home before I leave, of course, but I believe I’ll need all three of your help.”

Top-ranked Yuriana energetically declared,

“Yes! That’s fine!”

The second-ranked one simply stared at Carlyle with indifferent eyes.

And Leila Lowell…

‘That’s definitely killing intent.’

It was 4 PM.

Carlyle quickly issued instructions to the three of them.

“All of you, review the investigation files from the past three months. Confirm the number of incidents categorized from Grade 1 to Grade 3, and organize any notable details.”

But before the three could bury themselves in paperwork—

“Senior Rupesque.”

Leila Lowell raised her hand.

“Hmm?”

“Are we only examining the trends from the past three months? Do we not need comparison data, such as the previous year or previous quarter?”

“……!”

In that instant, his heart pounded violently.