Chapter 52: Unwanted Power
A few days after the collapse of the old guard, another summons arrived from the king for Zenon.
The audience chamber was completely different from the last time—quiet, subdued.
Only a small number of nobles were gathered, and none of them looked at Zenon with hostility.
Instead, they eyed him with a tense mixture of fear and caution.
Prince Alphonse was nowhere to be seen.
“Zenon von Arkwright.”
The king spoke from the throne, his voice calm.
Gone was the probing tone from before—only the heavy resolve of a ruler remained.
“Your actions in the recent incident were truly commendable. Tell me, will you use your extraordinary talents for the sake of our Kingdom of Berstein?”
“…And what exactly do you mean by that?”
Zenon asked quietly, already imagining the worst possible outcome.
As if waiting for that question, the king declared:
“I hereby appoint you, effective today, as Royal Financial Advisor.”
A faint murmur spread through the audience chamber.
Royal Financial Advisor.
A newly created position—but its meaning was obvious to all.
Equivalent to the Minister of Finance, no—given that it involved auditing financial flows and offering counsel, this post wielded even greater authority.
It was effectively the highest office in charge of national finance.
To entrust the kingdom’s treasury to a minor noble, the third son from a frontier family—
It was unprecedented.
The nobles were left speechless.
But the man who received this unheard-of appointment responded immediately, firmly, and without hesitation:
“Your Majesty, I must respectfully decline this order.”
An astonishingly insolent reply.
The air froze again.
A royal honor, personally bestowed—and he rejected it without the slightest hesitation.
“My goal is solely the stability and development of the Arkwright territory. I have no intention of involving myself in national politics—an unimaginably vast and convoluted affair.”
Zenon explained calmly.
“It is outside my field of expertise, and beyond the range for which I can take responsibility.
Accepting it would be utterly irrational.”
(Give me a break. Who knows how much inefficiency and rot is festering in national finance.
Why should I be the one to clean it up? It’s nothing but a mountain of hassle.)
His heart was filled purely with that personal reasoning.
But the king, as if anticipating Zenon’s refusal, quietly shook his head.
“…I will not allow you to decline.”
His voice was no longer a suggestion—it was a command.
The command of an absolute monarch.
“This is not an honor I give you. It is punishment.”
“Punishment, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed. You destroyed this nation’s old order with your own hands. You exposed the filth of the nobles to the light of day. Therefore, you have the obligation to take responsibility.”
From the throne, the king’s sharp gaze pierced Zenon.
“You will remove the rot you exposed. If you cannot, then you are nothing more than a destroyer— your actions no different from treason that endangers the nation.”
It was a masterful argument.
He twisted Zenon’s righteousness against him, placing a heavy shackle on him under the name of “duty.”
“And one more thing,”
The king added—revealing his trump card.
“If you insist on refusing this role…the royal family has been considering something. The Arkwright territory has recently amassed great wealth. Its autonomy may need to be reevaluated.”
That single sentence brought Zenon’s thoughts to a complete halt.
Interference in the Arkwright territory.
His rational, well-designed, efficient system— the sanctuary he had poured his entire being into creating— would be trampled by the irrational fools of the capital.
That, he could never allow.
(…He got me.)
Zenon cursed internally.
His escape routes had been sealed shut.
Accept the post—an enormous burden (high cost).
Refuse—and allow interference in his territory (catastrophic cost).
Only one answer remained.
“…Very well.”
After a long, long silence,
Zenon forced out the words, steeped with humiliation and resignation.
“I will accept this duty.…However, I have three conditions.”
“Speak them.”
“First—no one, including Your Majesty, is to interfere unreasonably with my reform policies.
All final decisions are to be entrusted to me alone. Second—I am to be granted access to all information required for reform. Even the royal family’s private treasury records will not be exempt. Third—this position shall be temporary, lasting only until the nation’s finances are set firmly on the path to recovery. At that point, I will resign immediately and return to my territory.”
Such brazen, transactional conditions left the nobles breathless.
But the king nodded with satisfaction.
“Very well. I accept all of your conditions.”
Thus, Zenon von Arkwright—completely against his own will—stepped into the heart of the kingdom as the youngest and most powerful Royal Finance Advisor in the history of the Berstein Kingdom.
That night, the Arkwright family mansion in the royal capital was filled with a celebratory atmosphere.
“Well done, Zenon-sama!”
“Now, Zenon-sama’s great power will be demonstrated throughout the entire kingdom!”
Gray, Rio—who had been summoned to the capital—and Marc all shared in the joy as if it were their own, praising their lord’s grand promotion.
But Zenon himself, at the center of it all…slumped deeply into his chair in his room, covering his face with one hand.
From his lips came a groan, one born from the depths of his heart.
“…This is the worst.”
The quiet, peaceful, rational life he had aimed for had now receded far beyond the horizon.
What he now had to face was a beast far larger, more complex, and far more inefficient than any single territory—a monster called a nation.
The battle he never wanted had now begun, opening a new, and utterly dreadful, chapter.