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Chapter 01
The world doesn’t change just because an orphan becomes an empress.
That simple yet cruel truth was something Ensilen only realized when she was standing at the edge of death.
‘I was just dreaming above my station. Bewitched by the Emperor’s hollow words…’
Ensilen had no family, no powerful backers. Yet, with her sheer ability, she became a full professor at the Imperial Academy.
If nothing unusual had happened, she would have lived and died there peacefully.
“I read your paper presented at the academic conference. It was deeply impressive. I believe this is the very direction the Empire should move toward.”
“Would you join me in changing the Empire? I’m asking if you’d like to see your ideals realized.”
She accepted the Emperor’s proposal because she believed he truly wished to reform the Empire.
After becoming empress, Ensilen abolished the tax exemptions granted to the temples, imposed additional taxes on the nobility, and used that revenue to aid the poor.
She also established an auditing system to combat corruption.
That was when the attacks from the privileged class began.
When proper political pressure didn’t work, they resorted to slander and malicious rumors.
Whispers spread that her academic thesis was plagiarized, that she lived a debauched life with the taxes she collected—every possible insult clung to her name.
She had expected resistance like that.
But what she had not expected was the Emperor’s reaction.
‘I didn’t think he would abandon me so quickly.’
The Emperor acted as though all the attacks were solely her burden to bear.
“I don’t know what more you expect from me. Haven’t I already given you enough authority? Or do you want me to fight every noble in the Empire on your behalf?”
Eventually, he stopped visiting her altogether, clearly annoyed by her presence.
People began whispering that the Empress had been cast aside by her husband.
“How vicious must she be for even her husband to abandon her?”
Everyone saw her as a puppet Empress, and some began to say she’d soon be dethroned.
Then came the day when her own attendants—bribed by her enemies—poisoned her meals, and the royal physician kept insisting there was nothing wrong with her health.
Even as her body deteriorated, Ensilen tried to continue pursuing her ideals.
But only on the brink of death did she realize the emptiness of it all.
‘Had I known it would end like this, I should’ve allowed myself a little idleness—maybe enough leisure to notice the change of seasons.’
She finally noticed that the flowers outside her window, the ones she’d planted, had already withered away.
Why had she wasted her life working so hard for something no one would ever recognize?
‘Life is truly fleeting.’
And so, in that quiet chamber where no one came to see her, Ensilen died—lonely and forgotten.
Three years later—
“By order of the higher council, you are hereby reassigned to the Special Tax Bureau as a final disciplinary measure. This order takes effect immediately. Report to your new department at once. Understood?”
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in the body of a low-ranking civil servant named Lianel, who’d been demoted for causing trouble.
‘No matter how hard you work, life never goes the way you want.’
Thus began her second life, with one new conviction:
‘To hell with it. Let’s just live lazily.’
And she truly meant it.
Meanwhile, the usually quiet Special Tax Bureau was in uproar.
“What? She’s coming here?”
The rumor spread fast: Lianel Vincenheim, a woman who’d gotten her civil service job through her family connections—the powerful Duke of Vincenheim—was being transferred in.
“I heard the Treasury Department couldn’t handle her anymore.”
“Didn’t she constantly slack off and talk back to her superiors? They said she was so bad they had to issue every instruction in writing.”
“Great. So our department’s name is changing from Special Tax Bureau to Special Dispute Bureau, huh?”
No one was pleased.
Anyone who caused trouble in another department was sure to become a headache here, too.
But refusing the reassignment wasn’t an option.
“I’m just not going to make eye contact. If we don’t talk, she won’t pick a fight, right?”
“Same here. Let’s just act like she doesn’t exist.”
“Alright everyone, this is our new recruit. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lianel.”
“Let’s see… your seat’s over there. Mel, can you show her around? You joined around the same time, right?”
Their team leader, Torban, shoved Lianel off on Mel and went straight back to his desk.
“Uh… can you wait a bit? I’m kind of busy right now.”
Mel was a man with thick glasses and an unremarkable face. After pointing Lianel to her seat, he returned to his work—half-spaced out, as if his soul had left his body.
The entire department seemed tense and chaotic.
It didn’t take long to understand why.
“Who brought in this toll report? This isn’t even our jurisdiction!”
“I’m sorry! I’ll forward it to the right department immediately!”
“Damn it, we’re going to get chewed out again in the performance review.”
Amid the flurry of voices and papers flying about, any normal newcomer would have frozen in panic.
But Lianel, once a workaholic empress, quickly grasped the situation.
‘Quarterly report deadline, huh.’
She stood up. Sitting idle was against her very nature—it was practically hardwired into her spine.
Back when she’d worked beside an emperor who ignored the Empire’s problems, she had always preferred to tackle things herself.
‘Besides, I’m bored anyway.’
“Is there anything I can help with?”
Mel didn’t even look up.
“Uh… can you fetch these files from the basement archive? Here’s the list.”
Lianel nodded, retrieved the files, and returned shortly.
“Here they are.”
“Thanks—oh! You startled me.”
Mel nearly fell off his chair when she appeared beside him. Clearing his throat, he muttered:
“Ahem. Thank you.”
“Anything else you’d like me to do?”
“Ah… well, then…”
Nervously, Mel gave her another task.
“Could you go back to the archive and verify this inventory count?”
He’d expected her to complain or slack off, but she carried out the task quickly—and flawlessly.
“Here it is.”
Soon, others noticed and began handing her work as well.
“Me too! Can you check mine?”
“It’s just data entry—count the figures and fill in the blanks.”
With the deadline looming, no one had the luxury of caring about rumors anymore.
“Can you handle this one too?”
Before long—
“This is a liquor tax ledger. Can you cross-check it with the receipts? Just make sure there aren’t any missing or incorrect entries.”
Even complex work started landing on Lianel’s desk.
The liquor tax was applied to all alcoholic goods in the Empire, and each ledger tracked the payments separately—errors could easily cause chaos.
Usually, such tasks were reserved for experienced staff.
But to Lianel, whose sense of “difficulty” was permanently broken, it seemed like a decent way to kill time.
‘Not that complicated.’
Watching from the side, Mel was horrified.
‘Has that senior lost his mind?’
It was obviously not work for a newcomer, but since Lianel didn’t object, he decided to let it be—planning to fix any mistakes later.
‘Later, when I’m less busy.’
Two hours later—
Mel turned to check on Lianel and froze.
“It’s hard work, right? If you have any questions, you can ask—wait, what’s that?”
He stared at her desk, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
“Are… are those all the receipts?”
Thousands of them, neatly organized—not just stacked, but sorted by date.
“Did you… seriously organize all these by date?”
“Oh, that? I just sorted them roughly. Makes it easier to avoid double work later.”
Lianel replied casually.
“R-right. Of course…”
Even her reasoning sounded like a line straight from a management textbook.
“Why are there two versions of this receipt?”
“While roughly checking the ledgers, I noticed a few dates were incorrect. So I attached the corrected receipts on top of the originals for you to verify.”
Mel double-checked the ledgers—and found that she had even annotated the corrections neatly in the remarks column.
“I roughly noted those too. It’s more efficient to update the ledger and the receipts together, isn’t it?”
“…”
Her work was flawless—yet she still called it rough.
“Wait—did you handle the exchange rate calculations? If not, I can—”
Liquor wasn’t all the same. Imported alcohol was subject to customs duty, which fluctuated daily with exchange rates.
Mel himself had once made a huge mistake for forgetting that detail.
But Lianel said calmly:
“I’m aware. The rate changes depending on the customs clearance date, correct? I requested the relevant data from the Customs Office and calculated accordingly. Doing it right the first time ensures that even when working moderately, you avoid errors.”
This time, she used the word “moderately.”
“Upon checking, I found an overcharged customs duty. I’ve roughly drafted a refund notice for the taxpayer and a cooperation letter for the related department. Could you review them?”
She handed him the documents.
They were flawless—formatted perfectly, every line precise.
Mel stared at them in disbelief, then burst out:
“Do you think just adding the word ‘roughly’ makes it rough?!”
