FERH 04

Chapter 04

The Special Taxation Bureau’s collection authority was only half a power.

Because the right of inspection had been taken away by another department, it was difficult for them to send agents into the field to identify corruption or collect evidence.

But high-income taxpayers were usually members of the privileged class — cunning, secretive, and uncooperative.

If a mere civil servant rashly pressed charges based on mere suspicion, they were bound to face a severe backlash.

Thus, the Bureau’s collection authority had never once been exercised.

‘That doesn’t matter.’

Inspection rights weren’t necessary.

When she was still the Empress, Lianel had already secured evidence of Count Bartello’s corruption.

She’d simply died before she could expose it — bad luck — but even three years after her death, the Bartello family still hadn’t repented.

Lianel had already confirmed this while running errands in and out of the storage rooms for Mel.

‘People don’t change easily.’

“According to Article 10 of the ‘State-Owned Property Act,’ established seven years ago, anyone who builds a public facility and donates it to the Imperial Household is exempted from various taxes — including property and real estate taxes — for ten years.”

It was called the “donation-in-kind” system.

Lianel had wanted to build facilities for commoners, but thought funding them entirely with taxes was inefficient.

To save time and money, she allowed the wealthy to offer buildings as donations.

In return, their business and construction permits would be approved swiftly — giving them tangible benefits as well.

“And what about it?”

“According to this law, the Bartello family constructed a medical facility on their land in Talogron Plains and received tax exemption. However, upon inspection, the only buildings there are taverns, inns, and commercial shops — no facilities serving the public good.”

Cedric, a Finance Ministry official, tried to exploit legal loopholes.

“Do you think buildings are made overnight? They take time! We were planning to build the infirmary gradually!”

“Is that so? How strange. Four years ago, didn’t you submit a report claiming the medical facility was completed? You even attached an aid request for relief supplies. Where exactly did all the government-funded goods go?”

Where else? He’d embezzled and sold them.

Since the Special Taxation Bureau had still been active back then, the relevant documents were well-preserved in storage.

Cedric couldn’t refute a word.

“Based on this, your tax exemption will be revoked, and additional penalties imposed. Furthermore, since we’ve discovered falsified reports and forged official documents, you may face criminal charges.”

The banquet hall, lively just moments ago, fell so silent one could hear a pin drop.

Cedric stood there, mouth agape.

His throat bobbed as though he wanted to speak, but only a wheezing sound escaped — no coherent words.

“Additionally, we’ve confirmed deliberate omission of inheritance tax through false reporting, as well as unpaid tariffs and excise taxes from smuggling large quantities of illegal liquor. These will also be assessed.”

Now even Lianel had to do some math.

With penalties reaching up to 40%, the amount would be excruciating for Cedric.

“Does anyone have a pen?”

Someone among the bystanders raised a hand.

“Ah, yeah, here.”

Wilbrin popped out, handing her a notepad and pen he always carried.

Lianel thanked him briefly and began scribbling quickly.

Once done, she tore off the page like a receipt and handed it to Cedric.

“So, that will be a total of 3,023,017 gold.”

“Th–three… three…!”

Cedric trembled violently — then fainted on the spot.

“Wh–what is this….”

The banquet soon erupted in chaos.

No one had expected that Lianel — known for her temper — to invoke the law to corner someone.

Everyone was shocked, but none more than Royhum, the Minister of Finance.

He, who habitually looked down on the Bureau’s people, now had to watch one of his subordinates humiliated in front of them.

He also had personal reasons for panic.

Royhum had committed tax evasion using the same method as Cedric. If Cedric was caught, he was next.

But of course, he couldn’t admit that.

“An inferior officer pressuring her superior without clear evidence?! And the Count is your direct superior! Who could tolerate such insubordination!”

Royhum ground his teeth and glared at Lianel.

“This matter will be formally submitted to the disciplinary committee!”

The atmosphere turned ice-cold.

No one dared to speak.

Then —

“Before that, shouldn’t an inspector be dispatched to verify the facts?”

Someone stepped forward, shielding Lianel.

A tall, broad-shouldered man — effortlessly placing himself between her and the Minister.

“Tax collection is a legitimate authority granted to the Special Taxation Bureau, after all.”

His broad back, solid and unmoving, filled Lianel’s vision — as if nothing could break through it.

“She merely exercised her rightful authority. I fail to see the problem.”

“Director, what nonsense are you talking about?”

“I merely stated the facts. As you said, Minister, the accusations may not align perfectly with the evidence. All the more reason to investigate thoroughly, wouldn’t you agree?”

A practiced smile. Calm logic.
His steady, emotionless tone was the very image of professionalism.

The moment Lianel saw his familiar profile — the man acting exactly as she once taught him — her breath caught.

You…

[“Do you truly believe the Emperor wants reform? Do you think he’d protect you against the nobles’ opposition?”]

He’d raged when he first heard she would marry the Emperor.

[“The Emperor can’t withstand even the slightest backlash. He’s a man who’s only ever known hardship in theory. The moment the nobles protest, he’ll panic and abandon ship.”]

And later —

[“I’ll stay here, Professor.”]

He’d left, saying softly —

[“You’ll need a place to return to someday, won’t you?”]

Even during her grueling life in the Imperial Palace, she’d often thought of him.

Asil Novantium.

Her student.

Why are you here?

She had never imagined meeting him again — as her superior.

From the moment Asil appeared, Lianel’s mind short-circuited. He couldn’t quite diagnose her condition, but he sensed something was off.

“Given how things have turned out, I expect our workload will increase. Let’s take our leave.”

He held out his hand to her — and led her out.

Asil was not only the youngest bureau director but also the head of House Novantium, a ducal family. No one could object to him.

The Finance Ministry officials grumbled once the two were gone.

“Unbelievable!”

“Is the Empire really going to let such insubordination slide?!”

They took Asil’s remark about “increased workload” as a veiled threat aimed at them.

But when no one from other departments joined their outrage, they began leaving one by one.

Soon, the banquet ended — only Mel and Wilbrin remained.

“That new recruit… she’s better than we expected, huh?”

They were colleagues and friends, close enough to share honest thoughts.

“…Yeah.”

Mel nodded, then corrected himself.

“No — she’s way better than someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilbrin laughed, but Mel was serious.

He’d been born the son of a poor farmer.

He should’ve spent his life toiling in the fields, never touching a book. But thanks to the former Empress, he got another chance.

Her policies had given him a scholarship — and eventually, he passed the civil service exam.

Mel respected the former Empress deeply.

She had changed his life.

Joining the Special Taxation Bureau, the department she had created, felt like destiny.

But that was as far as he’d come.

He’d watched the Bureau crumble, endured the mockery from other departments — powerless to do anything.

‘Lianel… she’s different.’

[“You committed tax evasion, didn’t you?”]

That single line —
That fearless stance that embodied what their Bureau was meant to be —

It was inspiring.

And it made him ashamed of his own silence.

“Ha…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Mel stared at the empty seat where Lianel had sat.

As if by doing so, he could still grasp the trace she’d left behind.

He longed for courage.

Meanwhile—

After following Asil out of the hall, Lianel heard him ask,

“Do you have any complaints about your reassignment?”

“Pardon?”

“For instance, do you think you deserved to be placed in a more prestigious department?”

She suddenly felt like she was facing one of his old exam questions — one that required her to read the examiner’s intent.