I Became the Narrow-Eyed Henchman of the Evil Boss

I asked about the identity of someone who took Bacchus’s place, but Demus’s answer was unexpected.

“Did someone ask?”

They must have been hiding their existence with some kind of holy power. My eyesight was too sharp for such camouflage to work.

The Thirteenth God.

“As for candidates…”

The Divine Cult is a federation attended by representatives of the most powerful gods. If I filter candidates based on the authority to be called “the most powerful god,” only two remain.

Estia, who belonged to the twelve most flourishing cults before Bacchus. Goddess of the Hearth. According to Blasphemia’s research, it seems that at some ancient point, the power dynamics with Bacchus’s cult reversed.

With Sikton’s rampage leading to the annihilation of Bacchus’s cult, there’s a possibility she was called in by the Divine Cult as Bacchus’s successor.

Or perhaps the Underworld God Pluton.

He was a mystic who seldom interacted with other gods, but it’s certain he possesses the stature to stand alongside other deities.

Honestly, I had always wanted to meet Pluton’s cleric at least once. As the god of the underworld, he might know why I was reborn in this world.

It had been a long time since I had given up looking for traces, but to think I’d see the possibility of meeting him like this.

“If I had known, I would’ve opened my eyes at least once.”

For now, I can’t tell if the Thirteenth Priest serves Estia or Pluton. After all, if I wait for contact from the other cults, there will be opportunities to meet the Thirteenth Priest.

For now, let’s go home and rest a bit.

I boarded the Magic Engine Train heading to Etna City and closed my eyes.

*

Bertrand was feeling extreme tension. It was because the boss had summoned him.

Although he fulfilled his assigned task thoroughly, being a diligent dwarf, there might be parts where the perfectionist Carisia was not satisfied.

“Huh, should I make the gauntlet faster?”

If he could gain some goodwill by offering a sacrifice, perhaps this thick pressure would lighten a bit. Bertrand headed to his office, already thinking about the design of the gauntlet he had been working on for months.

“Welcome, Director Bertrand.”

“What’s the reason for the summons?”

Carisia sent a file as Bertrand’s mana proxy. It was some kind of blueprint.

“What is this….”

It was far from being a perfect blueprint. Most of it was filled with statements like “I hope it turns out this way” instead of accurate structures or material ratios.

But because of that, it was easier to understand the purpose of the design itself.

“Is it something like an airship?”

“Yes. It would be a high-output levitation engine.”

To define it with such simple words was too limited for the ideas contained in the blueprint. It was an engine of unprecedented massive output. To meet the output that Carisia demanded, it wouldn’t suffice to say high-output; it would need adjectives like super high-output or maximum output.

As the latter part of the blueprint went on, the blanks increased. At this point, the word ‘design’ was more fitting than ‘planning’ or ‘concept.’

As he read the blueprint, Bertrand felt cold sweat trickling down his back. He remembered the drunken Arabella saying “There’s no such thing as too much of a nuisance” after Carisia had left the executive dinner.

A mad boss who expected everything that could go right to be done overnight, while also making it mandatory to fix everything that couldn’t, setting overtime as a constant.

“Could it be….”

“I’d like you to complete this blueprint. You can stop all other work and focus on this if you like.”

“W-what’s the deadline?”

“While I’d prefer it to be as fast as possible, it would be impossible in just a few months. I won’t set a separate deadline.”

A sigh of relief almost escaped him. There were too many missing parts in the blueprint, and the required output was beyond common sense. Even if a hologram simulator were running 24/7, it would take half a year just to conceptualize the blueprint…

“I’ll be checking your progress weekly, so please report it to me.”

“W-what?!”

“Don’t feel pressured. You can just send me the documents instead of an in-person report.”

After several exchanges, as Bertrand left the president’s office, the words “I’ll be expecting your report next week” echoed in his mind.

Today was Silver Day. The day before the holiday, Black Darkness Day.

“Oh? What’s this about?”

He couldn’t bring himself to inform the other miners and industrial engineers that they’d have to work overtime a day before the holiday, so he loitered at the president’s office door when he heard a familiar voice.

“Director Orthes?”

*

I heard about Carisia’s cruel work directives from Bertrand. I couldn’t even guess what such a massive levitation engine would be used for….

“Well, according to the work order, you can freely use personnel or resources from Hydra Corp if needed. You should call Geryones or Kaicle to secure the necessary magic power.”

“Do you think those two will come? I don’t think the mages who own their own Mage Towers would respond to my summons…”

“Just say it’s an order directly from the boss, right? Who would dare refuse the boss’s authority? Other directors with free hands, like Director Arabella or Director Cretone, would actively cooperate if you mentioned it.”

I shared the wisdom of leveraging the tiger’s might (using someone else’s authority). If Carisia’s name was on the line, there was nothing I couldn’t do in Etna City.

“Hmm, does the Head of the Divine Investigation Office agree to this active push?”

What? Are they really trying to conscript me?

I recalled the work directives that Bertrand had shown me. At the very bottom, it clearly stated, “Requests for the use of all tangible and intangible resources held by Hydra Corp can be made if necessary,” along with Carisia’s signature.

I naturally included myself among those who could be conscripted by Bertrand.

I had no choice but to nod. I couldn’t be scared of a document signed by Carisia.

‘This guy is something else. He’s trying to throw someone who just got back from a business trip straight into work.’

It seems like Carisia’s work directives have a contagious quality. It’s a syndrome where the guilt of making subordinates work overtime disappears, and it terrifies me.

“I understand. Have a good holiday then.”

Bertrand moved forward with a confident stride.

“What is this?”

Why did they ask for my opinion?

I thought for a moment and concluded that Bertrand’s consideration was one step ahead of Carisia’s.

He probably thought it was better to wait until the holiday was over to send someone who just returned from a business trip to work.

I was thinking of showing a superior demeanor, disappearing somewhere immediately after the holiday ends so I wouldn’t be called.

*

Bertrand thought to himself.

“If I request cooperation, saying it’s the boss’s directive, each of them might run away, busy handling their own tasks.”

That was true. Every director, including Bertrand, had at least one task assigned directly by Carisia.

Even Meconion had her own task: to tidy up the sales channels for the medicines she had sold and examine that flow.

In such a situation, if they shoved another work directive from Carisia into the mix, they could easily evade the responsibility with something like “I’ll take care of the other work first.”

During these months of redeveloping the entire Etna City, the directors had become quite skilled at making excuses for breaks. Unless Carisia came personally to issue an order, they would do their best to dodge work.

But now Bertrand himself had the backing of Orthes.

“If I add the name of the Head of the Divine Investigation Office, I might be able to reduce the night shifts for the miner union members.”

If he shifted the burden onto the other directors, or rather shared it, the miners would breathe easier. Bertrand smiled with satisfaction.

If Arabella saw it, she would’ve cried out, “Even that old man has been influenced by them!”

*

I was planning to finish my business trip report quickly and head off to rest early.

Since I hadn’t received a reply from the cult regarding my proposal, and since what I had done on-site was not much, I thought the report would end quickly.

“I’ve finished preparing to stir discord among the Divine Cult. Regardless of the worst outcome, they won’t be able to ignore the prophecy I mentioned.”

“What prophecy?”

“The prophecy that the Mage King will return.”

Carisia’s lips twitched. It was a look asking, “What are you talking about?”

…Thinking about it, I hadn’t mentioned this to Carisia either.

“It’s not something that will happen right away. In about three years—”

“Orthes.”

Carisia cut me off, her voice steady as usual, making it hard to read her emotions. Somehow, I felt my mouth go dry.

“…Yes.”

The brief wait for her next words felt endlessly long.

“Wouldn’t it kill someone to blow up the Artificial Ten Commandments in the resurrection location?”

“What do you mean by that?”

I still didn’t quite understand Carisia’s mind.

---