FERH 07

Chapter 07

As soon as she arrived at work, Lianel realized that the draft of her report was missing.

The arrangement of the items on her desk was slightly different, a few papers had their left corners curled and were sticking out of the drawer, and the documents in the cabinet where the report had been stored were now in a messy, irregular order.

Someone’s touched this.

Lianel quickly guessed who the intruder was. There was only one place that would target the Special Tax Bureau at this timing.

But she couldn’t exactly storm into the Ministry of Finance and demand they return the report.

They’d just feign ignorance and deny everything.

So instead of submitting a clumsy, incomplete report from her estate, Lianel chose silence.

After all, all the critical data is still in my hands.

If nothing unusual happened, she had no intention of revealing that the report had been stolen.

It’s not like I care about getting credit anyway.

But Cedric not only submitted the stolen report under his own name—he even tried to use it to attack the Special Tax Bureau.

There’s no way I can just let that slide.

Lianel quickly identified the flaws Cedric had introduced when he tampered with her report.
After all, she was the original author.

When Cedric finally tripped over the trap he’d set for himself and was crushed in humiliation—

“Is the Special Tax Bureau submitting nothing this time?”

asked Minister Royham of the Treasury.

It was a jab, implying, Instead of attacking our report, why don’t you submit something yourselves?

Lianel replied calmly,

“Since the Director has graciously given us another opportunity, I put my limited mind to devising a proposal. However, I thought it required further review, so I’ve decided to withhold the submission for now.”

She distributed copies of the papers she was holding to everyone present.

“Instead, I’ve prepared a document estimating the remaining budgets of each department.”

That’s when the supporting evidence Cedric had failed to submit came out.

Cedric’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t found those materials because Lianel had taken them home to revise the proposal.

The Empress Dowager slowly flipped through the papers.

The graphs perfectly matched those in the report.

On the final page was a clean summary listing the original reference documents.

She turned her eyes to Cedric.

“The report bears your name, but you clearly lack understanding of its content and have failed to provide the source data. That means you aren’t the true author, does it not?”

Cedric’s head drooped low, nearly touching the floor.

Then the Empress Dowager turned to Lianel.

“I see now. So you were the true author all along.”

Her face showed both relief and contained fury.

“You must have felt wronged. Why didn’t you come forward immediately?”

“Because the report Count Bartello submitted was not my report.”

At that, Cedric glared daggers at her.

“So now you’re denying it? After writing something meant to attack other departments?”

It was a ridiculous accusation.

“I merely requested that the authority to allocate the budget collected through the special tax be returned to its proper managing body, the Special Tax Bureau—just as it was originally established to do. I never once proposed stripping other departments of their authority.”

After all, why did the Empire levy special taxes in the first place?

To fund basic welfare programs for its citizens.

And the Special Tax Bureau had been created precisely for that purpose.

Surely, it deserved at least the right to review how the special tax was allocated to ensure it served its intended goal.

“Furthermore, I never claimed any department to be superior to another. The Empire’s administration is not upheld by the supremacy of a single bureau.”

“That’s right—well said!”

“Unlike some people who think they can run the whole Empire by themselves!”

Mocking laughter broke out, directed at the Treasury.

Even before this, the Treasury had a bad habit of treating other offices as if they were mere subsidiaries.
But this report had exposed that attitude blatantly—enough to provoke every other department’s resentment.

“Of course, there were some departments with unused budgets,” Lianel continued. “But that’s only because the Treasury assigned funds without considering feasibility.”

She then presented an analysis of how the special tax funds had been used.

The data showed a sharp increase in unspent funds during the three years the Treasury had controlled special tax allocation.

“…Indeed, the allocation standards are a mess,” muttered the Empress Dowager, clicking her tongue.

The Treasury officials sat red-faced and silent.

Lianel even submitted a comparative report showing that when the Special Tax Bureau had held allocation authority, such problems had rarely occurred.

It was a total defeat for the Treasury.

“The authority over special tax allocation will be transferred back to the Special Tax Bureau. No objections, I assume?”

“Kyaaah!!”

A cheer erupted from behind—Wilbrin.

Realizing all eyes were now on her, she quickly clamped her mouth shut.

Still, everyone in the Special Tax Bureau was struggling to hide their grins.

Watching the arrogant Treasury get knocked down was sweeter than anything.

“At present, there are no funds to reallocate,” said the Empress Dowager with a faint smile. “But since the Special Tax Bureau retains the right to collect special taxes, perhaps that can be put to good use.”

Her tone sharpened slightly.

“I hear there were some taxes intentionally omitted during the civil service banquet. You may collect those.”

In other words, she was authorizing Lianel to resume Cedric’s halted tax collection—the very one the Treasury had blocked.

Cedric’s face went pale. His legs gave out, and he collapsed.
No one helped him up.

Naturally—who would choose to sink with a doomed ship?

“After three whole years, the authority to allocate funds has come back to us!”

“This isn’t a dream, right? I’m afraid I’ll wake up in my bed any second.”

“Then I’ll just die right there in bed, thanks.”

After the council meeting ended, the Treasury staff fled in disgrace, tails between their legs.

Meanwhile, the Special Tax Bureau overflowed with jubilation, basking in their victory.

Once treated as the lowest of the low—the exile post for incompetent bureaucrats—they’d never imagined they could triumph over the Treasury itself.

Lianel, however, wasn’t there.

Her father, Duke Vinzenheim, the Minister of State, had asked to speak with her privately.

Everyone understood. Of course a father would want time alone with his daughter.

So the celebration carried on without her.

“That’s what a real genius must be like.”

“Hard to believe the rumors from the Treasury now. They said she was a walking disaster!”

“Right? How could anyone badmouth a miracle worker like her?”

“Can you trust anything from those Treasury snakes? They stole her report and passed it off as their own!”

“True enough.”

Almost no one in the bureau resented Lianel now.

Most felt awe—and a faint chill.

Because Lianel had achieved all this without even a flicker of emotion.

As if everything had simply gone according to plan.

Mel spoke up.

“Honestly, I just envy her.”

Another senior sighed.

“Same here. Being born a genius… feels kind of unfair, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not quite true.”

That calm voice belonged to Asil.

“…Sir?”

Everyone turned, startled.

Since becoming director, Asil had never once offered personal comments about any subordinate.

Two nights ago, Asil had returned to the office late at night to retrieve a forgotten document.

That night, he saw light spilling through the records room door.

Lianel was there—alone—methodically reviewing mountains of data and rewriting her report again and again.

She hadn’t even noticed his presence, too absorbed in her work.
That image was still vivid in his mind.

That’s why Asil had waited during the council meeting—waited for Lianel to speak up and turn the tables herself.
He’d wanted her effort to be seen for what it was.

Even now, he was sure her fingertips were still stained with ink, and dark traces of exhaustion lingered beneath her eyes.

The undeniable marks of hard work.

“Ah…”

“A genius who also works hard—ugh, that’s even worse…” someone groaned.

Asil ignored the murmurs, realizing that he, too, had been one of those blinded by prejudice.

And as he thought of Lianel’s infamous reputation, he began to wonder—

Maybe her notoriety is just an empty shell.

After all, even my teacher was the same.

Encilen, until the very end of her life, had lived under the label of the ‘Wicked Empress.’
Almost no one had known who she truly was.

Perhaps Lianel is the same…

Of course, it was too early to be sure.

But Asil couldn’t help feeling curious.

Was Lianel truly the villain everyone claimed her to be?

It’s worth finding out, he thought.

After all—
one victim of slander is more than enough for a lifetime.