Far East Maritime Province Special Tourism Zone Development Project (2)****
Mikhail's expectations were shattered to pieces.
No, in the first place, one is betrayed because one has expectations.
"Haa…."
On the crudely made podium in the courtyard of the grand duke's residence, he sighed and looked down below.
A procession of people who were supposedly officials dispatched from the capital.
In a word, it was a spectacle.
Dead fish eyes in which not a single gram of vitality could be found.
Brain-dead individuals who were merely alive, without will or passion.
Their attire was neat, but that was all.
They looked like office workers who had been forcibly dragged to the funeral of a boss they weren't even close to.
To top it off, in the very front row, stood a kid who was clearly young at a glance.
Silver hair and blue eyes.
She had a doll-like, pretty appearance, but that wasn't the problem.
Her official's uniform was loose and awkward, as if she had stolen her dad's clothes.
Was the personnel congestion in the capital so severe that they would send even a little kid like this, as if getting rid of a reject?
"Boris."
Mikhail called out softly.
"I'm sure I asked you to send 'competent' personnel. What in the world is this?"
"…."
"And what's with that little kid over there? Is the Far East Maritime Province some kind of match factory?"
Boris, with a troubled expression, but trying his best to remain calm, answered.
"Your Highness. Perhaps, they are not completely incompetent."
"Hoho?"
"As they are officials of the empire, at least their basic abilities will be guaranteed. However...."
Boris trailed off.
"They must be those who backed the wrong horse, were defeated in a political struggle, or are of humble birth. So perhaps, that is why they have come all this way."
"So, you're saying they're losers who've been pushed into a dead-end job."
Mikhail let out a small, empty laugh.
"This is ridiculous. I don't know about anything else, but the work of the personnel department guys is a work of art. At least there's no need to worry about environmental pollution."
Then again, who would want to come?
To this cold and barren land, the furthest from the capital.
This place was practically the empire's official place of exile.
"So, is there any point in me giving a speech to these kinds of guys?"
"It is the minimum of protocol, Your Highness. Originally, it would be proper to hold a welcome banquet, but even that has been omitted."
"Right, so that's how it is…."
Mikhail took a step forward on the podium, which lacked even a brass funnel, let alone a microphone.
And without particularly raising his voice, he opened his mouth in a languid tone.
"Can you all hear me?"
The murmuring noise ceased.
All eyes turned to him.
"I."
Mikhail paused for a moment and scanned the gathered faces one by one.
"Have not the slightest interest in your origins, your factions, or your past."
His voice was quiet, but strangely, it penetrated clearly to every corner of the square.
"There is only one thing I look at, and that is ability."
"If you have the ability, I'll make sure of two things for you, if nothing else: promotion and money. I give you my word."
The eyes of a few flickered faintly.
Money.
That word was always effective.
"Of course, it's fine to be incompetent too. I know. Not everyone in the world can be competent."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Just do what you're told. As long as you don't cause any trouble, I won't say anything."
A cool smile hung on Mikhail's lips.
"But, you see."
"If there's anyone who can't shake off their habits from the capital and bothers me with factional games or political maneuvering here."
"Or, if there's anyone who causes trouble out of greed to fill their own pockets."
His gaze glinted coldly.
"I will personally change that bastard's profession."
Gulp!
The sound of someone swallowing dryly was heard.
"Here, in Vladimir, the crabs are very famous. They're very meaty and delicious."
Mikhail continued as if he were enjoying himself.
"I'll make you catch crabs for the rest of your life. And not just any crabs, but crabs to be presented to His Highness the Prince."
"Isn't it an honor?"
At the chilling joke, the air in the square froze.
The officials' faces turned pale.
"I trust you've understood me well enough. Any questions?"
Silence.
No one opened their mouths.
No, they couldn't.
Because in these kinds of situations, 'any questions?' originally meant 'do not ask any questions'.
It was at that very moment.
Swish—
Above the sea of silence, a slender hand rose.
Everyone's gaze turned to the owner of that hand.
It was the silver-haired little kid in the front row.
'…Wow, that one is truly clueless.'
Mikhail clicked his tongue inwardly.
But the moment he saw the girl's gaze, that thought vanished.
Cool blue eyes, without fear or hesitation.
Eyes like a well-honed blade, as if all emotion had been castrated.
Could Ramón Mercader's ice pick, which killed Trotsky, have been like that?
"Speak."
Mikhail permitted with a nod of his chin.
The girl took a step forward.
Her loose official's uniform was comical, but no one could laugh at her.
Her voice, completely unfitting for her appearance, was cold and clear.
"How high can I rise?"
A murmur mixed with astonishment and ridicule erupted from the surroundings.
How dare she ask such a bold question to His Highness the Grand Duke.
But Mikhail, on the contrary, liked that about her.
"Well."
Mikhail paused for a moment.
And then he answered in a very cheerful voice.
"I could make you something like my right hand."
"!"
The girl's blue eyes widened, ever so slightly.
That was the only emotional stir she showed.
"No more questions? Then dismiss. Ask the officials who were originally here for the details. Let's do a good job from now on."
As soon as Mikhail finished speaking, he came down from the podium without looking back.
Boris hurriedly followed behind him.
"That little kid from before."
On the way back to the grand duke's office, Mikhail suddenly asked.
"Do you know her name?"
"It is Josefina Jughashvili, Your Highness."
Boris answered immediately.
"She is the only volunteer among the dispatched personnel this time, and is a talent who graduated at the top of her class from the Imperial Academy."
"Josefina Jughashvili?"
Mikhail's steps faltered for a moment.
The right-hand woman whom the final boss of [Blood, Lilies, and the Double-Headed Eagle], the fascist 3rd Prince Dmitri who suffered from a lack of affection, trusted so much that he plotted a coup d'état with her.
The villainess who was called the 'Witch of Iron, Cold, and Fresh Blood' for her merciless purges.
Josefina Jughashvili.
"Huh."
A hollow laugh escaped Mikhail's lips.
"I'm in luck."
He then headed for his office with light steps, as if nothing had happened.
A very satisfied smile was on his face.
***
Was it because the officials dispatched from the capital were truly as competent as Boris had said?
Or was it simply because the number of people had increased?
Either way, Mikhail didn't care.
The only important thing was the fact that the work was being processed noticeably faster.
Before long, he was able to receive his first regular report.
A languid afternoon.
Mikhail was reading a book, almost lying down on the long sofa in his office.
It was a novel he had acquired through Laura, one that scathingly satirized the noble society of the capital.
Not only that, but more than half of the pages were filled with obscene jokes and explicit descriptions of sexual intercourse, so it was not something a prince should be looking at.
Any other noble or prince would have immediately designated it as a banned book and sent the author to the mines.
As for Mikhail, he found it interesting, so it was rather good.
Crunch!
He picked up a butter cookie from the plate next to him and put it in his mouth.
A sweet and savory taste enveloped his tongue.
Knock, knock!
"Come in."
Mikhail answered without even taking his eyes off the book.
It was bound to be Boris, of course.
Kkiiik—
The door opened, and the person who stepped inside beautifully shattered his expectation.
"…."
It was Josefina Jughashvili.
Mikhail placed the book he was reading on his stomach and slightly raised his upper body.
"Where's Boris, and you've come to report?"
"Chief Chamberlain Boris is affiliated with the Ministry of the Imperial Household, and this Special Tourism Zone Development Project is under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Home Affairs' administration."
Josefina answered without a hint of hesitation, as if reciting a law book.
"Therefore, it is appropriate according to regulations for me to be the one giving the report."
"Aha, I see."
Mikhail nodded his head.
She was absolutely right.
The reason Boris had been in charge of all sorts of miscellaneous reports until now was purely because there was a lack of manpower, or because the original Mikhail was such a scoundrel that no other subordinate could endure him.
But there was still something strange.
"But, why did you come in person?"
Mikhail asked.
"Isn't this kind of report usually given by the person in charge? That, 5th-rank administrator. What was his name, Gerard? Shouldn't he be the one coming?"
Mikhail picked up another cookie and asked playfully.
"Got stuck with the dirty work?"
"That is correct."
"Puhat!"
Mikhail burst out laughing without meaning to.
Usually in this situation, the textbook social response was to hedge with words like 'he was busy with other important duties'.
But this little kid just stated the fact as it was, without any embellishment.
"It seems Administrator Gerard is afraid of meeting Your Highness in person."
To say that to a prince's face, it was a masterpiece.
Truly, he liked her very much.
"Is that so?"
Mikhail chuckled, trying to hold back his laughter.
"Then from now on, you be the administrative head for this project."
"…Pardon?"
For the first time, a look of bewilderment flickered across Josefina's expressionless face.
Her blue eyes widened into circles.
"No, if you're doing the head's work, then you should naturally be the head. Am I wrong?"
Mikhail took the report she held out.
And leaning his back comfortably against the sofa, he prompted her for an explanation with a nod of his chin.
Josefina seemed to hesitate for a very brief moment, but she soon regained her composure and began her report.
Her voice was calm, and her explanation was clear and concise.
Above all, the report itself was different.
It was easy to read.
Unlike the previous reports that were packed only with text, it was accompanied by neatly organized tables and graphs that were easy to look at.
In particular, the pie chart showing the budget allocation items was something Mikhail was seeing for the first time since coming to this world.
Mikhail tapped the graph section of the report with his finger.
"This, who did this?"
"I did."
Josefina answered.
"It is a method that some of the large merchant guilds in the capital have recently started using to increase the efficiency of their reports."
"Competent."
Mikhail praised her sincerely.
"I like it very much."
Even at his praise, there was no change in Josefina's expression.
She merely bowed her head to express her gratitude.
It seemed like she would be fun to play with.
"Alright, then."
Mikhail casually tossed the report onto the table next to the sofa.
And lying down on the sofa again, he gestured towards Josefina.
"Spare me some time."
"…Pardon?"
"Let's play a game of cards."
Josefina's brow furrowed very slightly, almost imperceptibly.
"Your Highness. It is currently working hours."
A voice that cuts like a knife.
Her blue eyes looked at him, expressing a question.
"This is also work."
Mikhail retorted with a small laugh.
"It's to test the games we'll use in the casino, which will be the core of the development project we're about to undertake."
Only then did the question disappear from Josefina's face.
She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, pursing her lips slightly.
Before long, she silently took a seat on the hard chair opposite him.
Her posture was as erect as her personality.
"So, what kind of game is it?"
There was no longer a trace of hesitation in her voice.
"I don't know much about card games."
"My, my, aren't you a model student. You must not have had any friends, huh?"
Mikhail chuckled and took out a deck of cards from the sofa drawer.
"I made it, so you don't need to know any other card games."
He shuffled the cards skillfully and said, as if greatly enjoying himself.
"The name is Blackjack. Sounds good, right?"
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