The Vote

Sitting on his little stool, Sus twirled his beard with one hand and crossed his short legs. "You know, I originally thought you'd be a very difficult person to get along with." "I only know that the outside world has a very deep misunderstanding of me right now." "It's mainly because of the things you've done. It's hard for people not to think along those lines." "That is the most frustrating part. In many of those matters, I had no room for choice." "Mm, I can understand that. Everyone encounters similar situations. It's just that you're a bit special. Do you know where?" "Because, looking at the results, it seems I've never lost." "You're being too modest. It's not that you've never lost; it's that you keep winning. As long as you keep winning, it's easy for people to think that those things you had no choice but to do were actually schemes you planned all along. That's human nature. Even without concrete evidence, the vast majority of people will smugly assume the first impression in their minds is absolute truth." "That is true, yes." "On top of that, you're still very young. Youth itself carries a stereotype, you understand?" "I understand." "So, before this, whenever I thought about having to be your superior and working together with you, I was under immense pressure." "You can relax a bit." "I am relaxed now. From the moment you walked through that door until now, I've confirmed that the outside world's impression of you really is a misunderstanding. You'll be very easy to get along with." "While I'm pleased to see that, I'm still curious—isn't your shift in perspective a bit hasty?" "Hasty? No, not at all. I just feel that if I were in your position, knowing I probably wouldn't get promoted for the rest of my life and would be nailed to this place forever, I wouldn't bother being this polite and careful. Mm, I wouldn't be this well-mannered. Those old priests in the department who have no hope of advancement, whose drive to climb the ladder has died out, and who are purely waiting for retirement—their tempers are often the nastiest. Precisely because they know you have no leverage over them, they can't be bothered to show any courtesy." "I see. So that's how it is." "Still, to this day, I don't know why your previous superior wanted to screw you over." "I don't know either. Supposedly, it came from higher up." "Higher up? How high up?" "I'm not clear on that." "I asked around and did a bit of investigating myself, but I couldn't dig up any concrete results. But rest assured, I won't make such a foolish mistake." "Yes, I trust you." "No, you don't trust me, and please don't trust me. It's best if you keep your eyes glued on me at all times. If I ever do make a move against you, I'll give you as many clear hints as possible beforehand. That way, we can keep the conflict within a controllable range, rather than flipping the table together every time like this, ending up with everyone blown to pieces. Don't you think what I'm saying makes a lot of sense?" "Yes. You are very open-minded." "In the end, I even have to thank you. Originally, the post of Regional Chief in the Yorktown Region was a hot commodity; who knows how many eyes were glued to it? Yet after this whole mess, no one dared compete for it anymore. First, the old momentum was shattered. What used to be a model region in the system suddenly turned into a negative example. Landing here makes it very hard to get your credentials polished and fly out. Second, because of someone like you being here, well, most people feel that being your superior would be extremely uncomfortable. So I lucked out and scooped up this bargain. Originally, I wasn't qualified to run for this position, haha." "I will help you achieve results here, Regional Chief." "We'll work hard together. I won't interfere with what you want to do either. Most of the time, just treat me as a megaphone. If there are any demands from above or any shifts in the wind, I'll pass them down to you, and you handle whatever needs to be done below. When you accomplish something noteworthy, make sure to add a line at the front of the report: 'Under the wise leadership of Regional Chief Sus...' And if anything goes wrong, remember to add a line at the end of the self-criticism notice: 'I have failed Regional Chief Sus's expectations and teachings...' In short, we do it like this: you do the work, I lie back; you earn the credit, I take my cut; you make a mistake, it has nothing to do with me. Sound good?" "That works, Regional Chief." "Hey, that's the spirit! Hahaha, I just love living this kind of life. After all, I've got short legs and don't like stirring up trouble. It's better to just lie back at ease. I'll give you freedom and leeway, and you rack up merit for me. These words aren't a test; they're genuine candor. Before coming here, I already knew you were someone of great ability. Having a subordinate as capable as you is a blessing that would make any superior wake up laughing in their dreams. Aside from that, there's another matter. This time, not only will the Regional Chief position be left vacant, but a large batch of ministers will be rolling out too. You and I each take up a slot, but that's far from filling them all. That Second Office Director named Neo—he's on very good terms with you, right?" "Yes." "According to the saying in Wien, when the bean paste in front is dumped out, the remaining jars have to be topped up. What do you think about Head of Logistics?" "Could we change it to another?" "It seems your relationship really is very close, or you wouldn't be so openly pushing for a better post for him." "Yes. His working ability is very strong. I feel putting him in the position of Head of Logistics would be a bit of a waste." If Neo really became Head of Logistics, he wouldn't be lonely the next time he leveraged up and headed for the rooftop—because turning around, he'd find the entire headquarters up on the roof with him. "Then... Head of Reconnaissance? According to the customs of the Dinge Region, because much of the Reconnaissance Department's work overlaps with the Law Enforcement Department, Reconnaissance generally shoulders another function, such as organizing and controlling informants, as well as infiltrating and investigating certain special organizations. I browsed through some plans left behind by your predecessor, Bernie, and saw an unformed proposal. It seems there was an intention to organize a group of Light remnants centered around us, equivalent to setting up a firewall for ourselves. I think this plan is very good and want to implement it as soon as possible. Let's hand it to him to handle. What do you think?" "I think that is very appropriate." "Good, then that's settled. You were great just now. If you want anything or have anything to say, just say it straight. Let's try not to play office politics; that's far too boring." "Understood. Thank you." "Don't mention it. Oh, right, since Neo is taking Head of Reconnaissance, the position of Head of Logistics can only go to Richel. We need to go through the formal appointment procedure, and there will be a vote when the time comes." "Understood, I see. I think she is very well-suited for that post." "Hahaha, yes! A foul temper, so it won't be easy for outsiders to pry money out of her. When logistics run into trouble later on, we can just rap her on the forehead to vent our frustration. Truly very suitable." Standing nearby, Richel took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and revealed a gentle smile on her face. From this detail, Karen could sense that Richel likely wasn't Sus's direct confidante. The formation of this investigation team was nominally to investigate this incident, but in reality, it looked more like an advance vetting and orientation period for the incoming replacement cadre. Therefore, quite a few people from the investigation team would subsequently be transferred to hold posts here. "All right. Then please bear with spending two or three more days in the cell until we wrap up the procedures. Is that all right?" "That is fine." "Thanks for your trouble." "Thank you for yours." Karen stood up and, led by Richel, walked out of the conference hall. However, as soon as they reached the corridor, Richel came to a halt. Karen looked at her with a hint of puzzlement. "Go back on your own," Richel said. "You don't need me to escort you, do you?" "Mm, all right. No need." Karen walked downstairs by himself. Along the way, he ran into many priests in the building, all of whom looked astonished upon seeing him. "Director Karen, what are you...?" "Oh, heading back to do my time." ... "Ooooh!" "Hahahaha! Bern! Bern!" "Bern, you have your day too! Oh, my dear Bern, to think you'd end up like this!" "Hurry into my cell, let me show you some tender love! Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Unlike the cellblock at the Whip of Order headquarters, which remained desolate and quiet despite having been rebuilt, the cells at the Regional Administrative Office had always been clamorous. Locked inside were many troublemaking aberrant demons, violent monster beasts, and criminal believers. When Bishop Bern, stripped of his bishop's vestments and clad in prisoner's garb, was escorted past by guard priests, shrill cheers erupted instantly from the cells on both sides. A torrent of foul curses poured down like a broken dam. "My lord, I'll quiet them down," a guard priest said. Although he couldn't read the political winds at the top, he held great respect for Bern. During this time in prison, he had taken good care of Bern, offering him the best possible treatment. "No need. To my ears, this is fervent praise." "Yes, my lord." "What is your name?" "Tengsen." "All right, I'll remember it. Come see me in my office in a few days." "Yes, um... but..." "Heh." Bern was led out of the dungeon. After switching to another escort detail, he was brought into the administrative office area of the Church Affairs Building. The doors were pushed open, and he walked inside. Originally, this should have been a meeting venue for bishops, where everyone sat in a circle of chairs. But right now, only one chair was occupied, while the rest were empty. The bishops of this region who had not yet been thrown into the cells were currently divided into two rows, standing below with utmost propriety. The sole seated figure rested his chin on his elbow, dozing. Bern knelt and bowed to the figure above: "Greetings, Lord Cardinal." Kred opened his eyes and looked down at Bern kneeling before him. No one could glean anything extra from his slightly fatigued gaze. "Bern?" "It is I, Lord Cardinal." "I'm very annoyed right now. Because of the Yorktown Region's business, I haven't been able to get a decent rest for days." "This subordinate is guilty!" "We are guilty!" All the local bishops on both sides dropped to their knees to beg for forgiveness. The Church of Order had three great Cardinals in charge of three aspects of the church, with Kred overseeing war. Moreover, everyone knew that, just like the Whip-Wielder, he belonged to the High Priest's early core circle. His appearance here this time was mainly due to the special movements of the garrison. Even so, his arrival was truly a whale entering a tiny pond, leaving the fish originally in the pond trembling with fear. "Bern, you say you are guilty?" "Yes, Lord Cardinal." "Is the confession written?" "It is written." "Where is it?" "In this subordinate's heart." "I want it on paper." "Please grant me time." "How long?" "Half a day." "Too long. Three hours. That happens to be the duration of my afternoon nap." "Understood, my lord." Kred swept his gaze across the bishops kneeling on both sides and asked, "Are you all busy?" No one dared answer. Kred shook his head and said, "I'm going to take a nap. You all just wait here. While the Church cannot do without your service for a single moment, a three-hour break won't cause the Church to collapse. Heh." "Yes, my lord." "Yes, my lord." Kred stood up and walked toward the doors of the conference hall. Passing by Bern, he asked, "Besides paper and a pen, do you need anything else?" Bern answered, "Only paper and a pen." Kred pointed to a secretary beside him and instructed, "Accommodate him." "Yes, my lord." After Cardinal Kred left to take his nap, all the bishops present stood up from the floor, letting out collective sighs of relief. Even the Head Bishop had to tread carefully when facing Kred at meetings, let alone them. Immediately after, everyone turned their attention toward Bern. Bern sat down behind the round table. Soon, someone entered and brought him paper and a pen, and Bern began writing. Before long, someone brought more paper and a pen. Then someone brought another stack of paper and a pen. Next came a dossier and a pen... several dossiers and a pen... a pile of dossiers and a pen. Bern wrote very quickly. The first document, presumably his confession, was finished in no time. Placing it aside by itself, he stood up and began organizing the dossiers, which had piled up to half the height of a grown adult. Among those present, some bishops stood and some sat, but everyone's eyes remained fixed on Bern. Bern first took out a single dossier and set it alone in the center. Written across it in large letters was a name: Yedel. Promptly, Bern selected five more dossiers and stacked them together with Yedel's file, making six in total. The remaining dossiers were restacked and placed to the side. Having done that, Bern leaned back gently, turned his head toward the Cardinal's secretary standing nearby, and asked, "I am ready. The written confession is done. You may invite his lordship over." The secretary replied, "The time has not yet come. We must wait until his lordship finishes his nap." "Very well, I understand." Bern sighed, pulled a file from the tallest pile of dossiers, opened it, and flipped through the pages with a rustle of his fingertips. Then he directed his gaze at one of the bishops present. That bishop had originally been seated. Caught by Bern's gaze, he instinctively stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. Realizing his loss of composure, he deliberately tried to cover it up: "Heh, sitting for too long made my legs a bit numb." Bern said, "Then you must be careful. You shouldn't sit for too long; it easily causes poor blood circulation. It's the same for me lately. After staying in that cell for so long, I feel a bit uncomfortable all over." "Is that so? Heh, then you've suffered." "It's fine. More than half the prisoners in that jail were put there by my own hands. They actually look out for me quite well. Worried I'd be lonely, they sing to me every hour of every day." Bern straightened the dossier in his hands, put it back, and smoothly drew out another file. Opening it, he rapidly flipped through it with his fingertips just as before, then slowly lifted his head. The bishops present were all staring at Bern. Following the angle of Bern's peripheral vision, they identified the bishop Bern was observing, and everyone instantly turned toward that person. This bishop had originally been standing, but now he grabbed the back of a chair with visible uneasiness, his fingers repeatedly kneading it, an unnatural expression across his face. No one questioned him, but he spoke up on his own accord: "Heh, not just sitting—standing for too long makes the legs numb too." In an instant, the bishops representing this region's highest circle of power all resembled feeble, worn-out old men. In truth, they didn't need to be this flustered and uneasy. The problem was that Cardinal Kred's arrival completely overrode every rule in the room, for he possessed the authority to bypass all obstacles and personal favors to decide everyone's fate on the spot. This was an exceptional and sensitive period. The former dependencies of these bishops—their status, family backgrounds, and connections—were exceedingly pale and powerless right now. Standing stripped bare before everyone naturally made one sensitive and paranoid. Just like that, Bern picked up dossier after dossier and looked through person after person. It wasn't a roll call, yet every glance elicited a response as though a name had been called. Time was up. Surrounded by his retinue, Cardinal Kred entered the conference hall and took his seat. After his nap, he looked far more refreshed than before. Looking at Bern, he asked, "Is the confession written?" "It is written." Bern picked up the confession and presented it to Kred. Kred flipped it open. Skipping the first half, he focused primarily on the proposed punishments, such as cutting ties with the shadow factions he had controlled in the past. By comparison, relinquishing command over the garrison was hardly significant here, as command of the garrison was already something out in the open. "What are those?" Kred asked. Bern answered, "My lord, these are the supporting materials and evidence corresponding to my confession." "So many?" "Because time was limited, I haven't sorted them thoroughly yet. I can only report the details to you in person." "Then report to me privately tonight. Right now, there is a more important matter. We just received a message, so let me inform everyone: your Head Bishop Wolflen has prepared to report to the First Knight Order." Hearing these words, everyone present placed their arms across their chests and said in unison: "Congratulations to the Head Bishop." In reality, Wolflen had died long ago, but the news had been strictly suppressed. Kred tossed the confession aside and said: "Dunke has already been transferred back to the Dinge Region on official business, so we now need to elect an acting Head Bishop to temporarily preside over this region's affairs. How about this: you will hold an election among yourselves first to select a candidate. I will submit the name, and if the Holy See agrees, that person will serve as the acting Head Bishop. We will tally the votes aloud to elect the person you yourselves endorse. Any questions?" "This subordinate has a question." "Bern, what is your question?" "May this subordinate participate?" "Though you have committed wrongdoing, you have not yet been indicted. Therefore, your current status remains a bishop of the Yorktown Region. Naturally, you are eligible to take part in this election." "Yes, my lord." "Very well, then let us begin. Since this is your Yorktown Region's own election, I will not interfere; I will only oversee. Choose someone among yourselves to record the tally. Who will do it?" "I will," Bern offered voluntarily. "Fine, you do it." Bern stood up and drew a blank sheet of paper. With a crisp slap, he placed the sheet over the pile of dossiers, picked up the pen, and called out as he wrote: "Bern, one vote." Having said that, Bern swept his gaze across all the bishops present and smiled faintly. "I'll cast a vote for myself first. The rest of you, feel free."