"Welcome to our Hall of Budget," the old secretary greeted us, lowering his frail frame into a deep, subservient bow.
The Hall of Budget sat physically marginalized at the absolute rear of the massive Ministry of Finance complex—a literal and figurative afterthought. "You may conduct a preliminary tour of the premises while I systematically gather the necessary administrative records," the old man added, gesturing toward the interior.
The hall itself was a modest, single-story stone building. Several heavy wooden desks were lined up in a precise horizontal row across the central floor. Off to the flanks were two distinct sub-sections: one appeared to function as a combined kitchen and communal dining area, while the other housed the heavy iron-bound doors of the record repository. The entire department felt completely forgotten, buried beneath the shadow of the grand Ministry offices.
I glanced over at Prince Wang Tae Hua, who was meticulously tying the silk fasteners of his formal candidate's cape. His fingers moved with an aggravatingly slow precision. I grimaced, crossing my arms. "Can you not tie that garment properly?" I asked, my tone sharp with impatience.
"None of your business," he responded flatly, his face a perfectly blank, aristocratic mask.
I shrugged, turning on my heel to lead the way toward the kitchen area first. To my surprise, the kitchen facilities were massive. The head chef and his sous chef immediately ceased their preparations, bowing formally as we crossed the threshold. This was the Primary Kitchen of the Finance Ministry, meaning every single ration consumed by both the Revenue and Budget departments was processed and circulated from these hearths.
The head chef stepped forward, presenting a blank sheet of parchment. "The Minister has officially allocated the baseline credit for your meals during your week-long tenure here. Please list your dietary requirements so we may integrate them into the rotation."
I immediately shook my head, not wanting to create any unnecessary bureaucratic friction. "There is no need. Do not trouble yourselves on our account."
Tae Hua, however, casually reached out, snatched the parchment from the chef's hands, and began listing a massive variety of ingredients and dishes. I leveled a profoundly displeased glare at him. "You are truly unbelievable," I muttered under my breath.
"The budget for our meals is structurally tethered to the broader culinary allocations of the Department of Revenue," Tae Hua countered smoothly, his eyes never leaving the page. "Therefore, we are not neglecting state food resources; we are simply accessing what is legally ours." I offered a tight, reluctant nod.
Tae Hua stood up, pacing toward the back of the kitchen to systematically inspect the ingredient crates and the primary storage lockers. He halted before a heavy wooden door secured by a massive iron padlock. "Why is this specific storage unit locked?" he demanded, his voice suddenly dropping into a calculating register.
I noticed the head chef instantly stiffen, his hands instinctively retreating behind his torso as he walked back toward the table where we had been seated.
Tae Hua returned to the parchment, his brush flying across the surface. My eyes widened in genuine shock as he continued writing, filling almost four pages with highly specific, bulk ingredient orders.
"What exactly are you—" I started, but Tae Hua simply raised a single hand, flatly cutting off my speech. I rolled my eyes, stepping back.
He locked his gaze onto the trembling chef. "Since you are already actively violating Ministry protocol by hoarding the excess raw stocks in that locked room to secretly distribute them outside the palace walls..." he began.
The realization hit me a fraction of a second before the head chef suddenly dropped to his knees, his forehead pressing hard against the stone floor. "I have committed a grave, unpardonable sin, Your Imperial Highness!" the chef cried out. "I deserve to be punished severely under the royal decree!"
"Why are you hoarding the excess stocks?" Tae Hua demanded, his voice stern but completely devoid of surprise.
"I... we are distributing the surplus to the starving populations in the outer slums," the chef confessed, his voice shaking.
My heart softened instantly at the words. I instinctively reached out, my fingers catching Tae Hua's forearm to stop him from issuing an arrest order. He simply shrugged off my grip with a cold, smooth motion. Stepping forward, he tossed the rolled-up four-page list onto the floor directly in front of the kneeling chef.
Before I could voice my protest, Tae Hua spoke, his voice ringing with absolute, unyielding authority.
"Every single item listed on that parchment, along with your existing hidden stocks, is to be systematically distributed throughout the Capital slums every single day, starting this afternoon. The prepared meals are for the homeless. Furthermore, the bulk grain metrics I have listed are to be distributed directly to the thirteen outer agricultural villages."
The chef raised his head, his face instantly transforming into an expression of profound, tearful gratitude.
"I will provide you with my personal royal seal so your transport wagons can bypass the military checkpoints entering each village," Tae Hua continued, his expression grim. "I will also assign a detachment of imperial soldiers to escort the kitchen personnel during the distributions to prevent any local interference." He paused, his eyes darkening as he looked toward the window. "I am fully aware these rations will not suffice to survive the coming drought. But we must provide an immediate baseline of relief until a permanent macro-economic solution can be engineered before the dry season hits."
I narrowed my eyes, completely speechless. The cold, aloof prince I thought I knew had just executed a massive, covert humanitarian operation right under the Ministry's nose. Before I could process the tactical shift, he bid his brief farewells to the staff, leaving the kitchen crew stunned.
"Weicheng."
His sudden, deep voice snapped me out of my trance. I quickly offered a respectful nod to the chef and hurried out of the kitchen to catch up with his long strides. Walking down the stone patio leading toward the records repository, I couldn't stop staring at his profile.
He had deliberately engineered the entire kitchen inspection to audit their actual food resources and siphon them off for temporary crisis relief.
"Stop staring," he muttered without looking at me.
"Do you not consider that a severe violation of the Ministry's rules?" I asked, my voice hushed as we approached the heavy doors where the secretary waited.
"It is an absolute violation," he replied, his voice calm, steady, and utterly stern. "However, in times of an impending national emergency, a true ruler must exhaust every conceivable resource to preserve the lives of his citizens." I nodded slowly, absorbing his philosophy. "Furthermore, I have verified the deployment under my own seal. If the Ministry discovers the discrepancy, the legal and political consequences will fall solely on my shoulders. For now, we must operate entirely behind the backs of the officials in this complex."
The old secretary was waiting at the entrance of the archives, holding several heavy ledgers and account books.
Tae Hua leaned slightly toward me, his voice a barely audible whisper against the wind. "We cannot trust a single individual inside this Ministry."
The old secretary gestured inside the dimly lit room. "These documents represent the absolute expenditure and allocation records for the state budget spanning the last ten consecutive years."
The piled-up, leather-bound books formed a tower almost as tall as a grown man. I stared at the mountain of paper in sheer dismay, already realizing that proper sleep would be a luxury I wouldn't experience for the rest of the week.
"I should have requested an assignment to a different department," I whispered to myself.
Tae Hua adjusted his robes, took a seat at the opposite side of a massive wooden desk, and immediately pulled the first ledger toward himself. I grimaced, preparing the inkstone, brushes, and blank paper. Taking a seat directly across from him, I opened the first heavy volume.
The spine read: 817 AD Record.
For the remainder of the day, we were completely entombed within the suffocating silence of the record section. Palace attendants occasionally entered to drop off tea and light refreshments, slipping away as quickly as they arrived. I watched Tae Hua from the corner of my eye as he periodically paced down the rows of the archives, pulling down supplementary texts before returning to his desk. By the time I closed the seventh ledger, my fingers were stained with ink, and my notebook was filled with a detailed map of the severe financial discrepancies I had discovered.
I massaged my temples, casting a glance toward the high window. The sky had bruised into a deep, twilight purple.
"It is five in the evening," I noted aloud.
Tae Hua remained entirely engrossed in his ledger, his eyes scanning the columns of numbers. He offered a brief nod but didn't look up. I stood up, extending my arms upward to execute a deep, necessary stretch to relieve the tension in my spine. As I did, I caught Tae Hua frowning across the table at my unrefined movements.
He shook his head, closing the final ledger with a solid thud. He carefully folded the parchment containing his notes, capped his inkstone, and cleared his workspace. I quickly replicated his actions, packing my notes away in a hurried manner.
"Let us vacate the premises," he stated, rising from his chair. "I shall extinguish the candles once you have cleared the threshold."
I walked ahead, waiting for him just outside the archive doors. He systematically secured the windows, verified the safety of the books on our respective desks, and stepped out into the main hall.
As we exited, I observed that the regular Ministry clerks and bureaucrats were also clearing their desks and preparing to depart. We exchanged formal bows as they conversed loudly, clearly eager to return to their estates for their evening meals. I noticed several of them sliding heavy parchment envelopes into their robes, their faces breaking into wide, satisfied grins.
"Is that their monthly compensation?" I asked quietly as we walked.
"I assume so," Tae Hua responded, his eyes tracking the envelopes.
We halted our pace near a stone pillar, allowing the crowd of workers to clear out first. The courtyard was empty by the time we crossed into the primary hall of the Ministry of Finance—a space significantly more grand and cavernous than our small budget wing.
As we walked, the Minister of Finance himself emerged from the central office. We immediately offered our courtesies, and the Minister offered a deep, formal bow toward my companion.
"Third Prince," the Minister spoke, his voice smooth and dripping with practiced court etiquette.
Tae Hua offered a sharp, noncommittal nod. "Minister."
"How progresses your introductory tenure within our halls?" the Minister inquired, his sharp eyes darting between the two of us.
"We have completed a preliminary review of the historical ledgers and compiled a baseline summary," Tae Hua answered smoothly. "We anticipate delivering our formal synthesis to your office tomorrow afternoon, immediately following our final compilation."
I narrowed my eyes at the prince. We hadn't even located the missing financial records yet—how could he promise a complete report? Our core objective was to map the systemic misappropriation of funds within each ledger, a task I was nowhere near completing.
"Splendid," the Minister replied, a faint, unreadable smile touching his lips. "I harbor high hopes that your analysis yields fruit quickly, your highness. It would be a profound tragedy if your academic efforts here were to be entirely in vain."
My brow furrowed deeply as the Minister took his leave, his silk robes rustling against the stone.
There was something deeply, structurally rotten occurring at the intersection of the budget, revenue, and finance departments. My mind spun through various conspiracy models as I blindly followed Tae Hua toward our waiting carriage.
Because I was completely lost in thought, my forehead collided directly against his broad, solid back as he suddenly stopped.
"Cease your wandering mind and ascend the vehicle," he commanded dryly, gesturing to the carriage door.
Realizing we had already reached the transport, I quickly adjusted my robe and climbed inside. He turned, ascending after me as the carriage pulled away from the Ministry, charting a course back to the Shun Palace.
After a protracted, suffocating silence, I couldn't contain my suspicion any longer. "Did you not detect an incredibly strange atmosphere the moment we cleared the record hall?"
Tae Hua remained perfectly still, his eyes closed as the carriage jolted over the cobblestones.
"The old secretary permitted us total, unmonitored access to a decade of state records without a single administrative hurdle," I pressed, leaning forward. "The clerks cleared out as if they were evacuating a sinking ship, carrying all their personal belongings. And..." I paused, watching his expression. Tae Hua opened his obsidian eyes, staring directly at the carved wooden ceiling of the carriage. "The Minister's parting remarks carried an implicit threat."
He drew a slow, measured breath. "And your point is?"
"The point is, they are actively concealing a massive financial crime. They intend to take those secrets to their graves before allowing two academy candidates to unearth the truth."
"That will not manifest," Tae Hua stated, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly cold register. "I will not permit them that luxury."
When the carriage finally breached the palace gates, I stepped down and immediately began charting a path back toward the residential wing. Before I could take five steps, Tae Hua's hand suddenly shot out, grabbing my shoulder and violently pulling me backward behind the shadow of a massive stone wall.
I gasped, about to demand an explanation, when his palm forcefully covered my mouth, pinning me against the masonry. "Hush," he whispered, his eyes blazing with a warning fire.
I forced myself to calm down, tracking the exact direction of his gaze. Emerging from the darkness of the courtyard was the Minister of Finance, stepping with hurried, hyper-vigilant steps into the Hall of Ministers—the restricted political court located mere yards from our residential quarters.
"He is moving with extreme secrecy," I muttered against his palm as he finally lowered his hand.
"Stop talking," Tae Hua hissed.
I grimaced but silently followed his lead as he slunk along the perimeter, navigating the deep shadows at the backside of the ministerial hall. Peering through a gap in the ornamental wooden screens, we could clearly see four of the kingdom's highest officials seated around a low table.
"I find it utterly unacceptable that our sovereign domain has been flooded with a swarm of noisy, entirely inexperienced academy brats," a harsh voice echoed through the screen. "The imperial court explicitly deployed these students to systematically investigate and eliminate our entire network here."
"Who is that?" I whispered into Tae Hua's ear.
"Chancellor Ba," Tae Hua whispered back, his breath warm against my cheek. "His lineage represents one of the absolutely superior clans of the North—surpassed only by the Yun Clan itself."
I shook my head in grim realization.
"Our network leader will undoubtedly execute a counter-strategy before our long-term objectives are exposed," the Minister of Finance's voice sounded from within. "For the current duration, we must simply maintain our composure and execute the necessary diversions to keep the academy candidates entirely off our track."
Tae Hua leaned back into the shadow of the pillar, his eyes burning. "The Minister of Finance, the Minister of Public Works, the Minister for Palace Arrangements, and the Minister of Rites are operating in absolute, treasonous collusion," he murmured.
My mind raced. I desperately needed to ascertain whether these four ministers were actively plotting against the Queen or operating directly under her authority. The answer to that question would dictate my entire operational trajectory: whether I could navigate the Northern Kingdom alongside them, or if I would be forced to systematically eliminate every single one of them to achieve my goals.
Part II: The Ghost of Arghon
The clock struck midnight, and a profound, heavy solace befell the Northern Citadel. The silver moon shone with an aggressive brilliance, casting long, sharp shadows across the palace grounds as the exhausted academy students finally drifted into deep sleep.
Along the darkened stone path leading toward the residential quarters, Laohu and I walked in absolute silence. Suddenly, he stopped, his large hand reaching out to cleanly unfasten the intricate blood jade necklace from around my neck.
"What? What exactly do you think you are doing?" I asked, my face dropping into a deadpan look as I stared up at him.
"I am ensuring your survival," Laohu stated, his voice completely devoid of its usual warmth. He took the cold stone necklace and forcefully pressed it into my hand—the hand that was still tightly bound in my candidate's martial bondage wrapping. "Keep this specific necklace entirely concealed from anyone who might catch a glimpse of it. And do not remove your hand wrappings under any circumstances, Weicheng. The real ride initiates from this very hour."
I stared down at my palm, entirely confused by his sudden, cryptic sternness. The blood jade felt intensely cold against my skin, yet it seemed to ignite a strange, residual warmth deep within my core. Without another word, I slipped the necklace deep inside the hidden lining of my candidate's robe, and we silently slipped back into our respective quarters.
But the serene quiet of the night was short-lived.
An hour later, absolute havoc erupted across the assignment grounds.
A sudden, deafening barrage of iron bells shattered the midnight silence. The entire palace perimeter was instantly surrounded by dozens of highly coordinated, masked combatants. Emergency signals flared across the sky as the official palace guards screamed orders. Detachments of elite Northern soldiers flooded the corridors, aggressively forcing every single student—including the northern princess herself—out of their beds and marching us directly into the grand Throne Hall of the palace for security consolidation.
Chaos reigned as candidates scrambled to adjust their formal robes and secure their personal armor while being driven toward the royal dais.
From the shadows of the rear chambers, Chancellor Ba and Grand General Ling emerged into the light, their expressions perfectly unreadable as the muffled sounds of the skirmish outside were abruptly pacified by the sheer wall of imperial soldiers.
"Why are we being forced to hide in here like cowering dogs?" Laohu demanded loudly from the center of the student block, his face twisted in deep disapproval. "We are warriors. We were supposed to be out there fighting."
"We are fully equipped for an engagement," Qiu Run agreed, his hand tightening on his weapon, but his father immediately leveled a sharp, silencing glare at him from the ministerial line.
"Are you completely stupid?" Princess Chin Xiao shouted from the front row, turning a look of pure vitriol onto the candidates that earned her several synchronous rolls of the eyes from the academy crowd. "We cannot risk royal safety on a common skirmish!"
"Your personal security remains our absolute paramount directive," Chancellor Ba announced, stepping forward to soothe the panic.
"The combatants outside are elite assassins native to the North," Master Niu explained, stepping into the light with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "The Red Assassins are the ones who have been systematically attacking the outer villages to send a direct, violent message to the Crown. We cannot launch a full-scale military eradication campaign against them because they are, technically, citizens of the North who are simply delivering a message on behalf of the Kingdom's critics. If we slaughter them here, we will ignite a total, uncontrollable peasant revolt across the entire province."
THWACK.
A heavy iron-tipped arrow violently shattered the high stained-glass window, arching through the air wrapped in burning pitch and trailing a heavy leather sling. The projectile slammed into the center of the wooden throne doors.
Grand General Ling, operating as the supreme commander of all regional forces, immediately took the initiative. He strode toward the burning arrow, extinguished the pitch with a single stamp of his heavy boot, and unrolled the scorched parchment attached to the shaft.
The instant his eyes scanned the text, his face drained of all color.
The students and ministers pressed forward, suffocatingly eager to hear the contents of the missive. It was a stroke of absolute fortune that the Grand General had intercepted it; had anyone else opened the scroll, the political fallout would have been instantaneous.
He read the text aloud, his deep voice shaking slightly:
"This marks the definitive beginning. The Kingdom transcended into absolute villainy the precise moment the throne became a wicked playground for individuals obsessed entirely with raw power. Their systemic neglect of their own citizens has become rampant as the decades pass. All of this stems from a single historical event that birthed a decade of absolute lies. The Red Assassins will execute vengeance for those who deserve justice. The promise of a new, untainted tomorrow is rapidly nearing its absolute completion.
Every single individual involved in the doom of the Second Princess will be held legally and mortally liable.
And before your memory fails you: The Second Princess is alive. Now, let us play hide and seek."
A massive, collective gasp ripped through the hall. The entire Throne Hall descended into a suffocating, dead silence. The guards rapidly cleared the court as the heavy palace gates were forced shut once more.
"Lies!" Princess Xiao shrieked from the rear of the dais, lunging forward to violently snatch the scorched paper from the Grand General's hands. She shook her head frantically, her breath turning ragged. "These are all fabricated lies!" Her voice radiated pure, unadulterated rage as she leveled a sweeping, venomous glare across the student body before exiting the hall with a stormy face, her massive retinue of attendants scrambling to keep pace.
The grand hall slowly emptied, leaving only the academy students standing under the flickering light of the dying torches.
"She should technically be celebrating this news, right?" Laohu asked aloud, his voice echoing off the stone pillars as everyone turned to look at him. "Her biological sister is alive. If that message holds, she would possess a living sibling again." He finished his thought, completely oblivious to the sharp, immediate disapproval radiating from the senior candidates.
"Cease your speech," Eun Jo commanded sharply, grabbing Laohu's shoulder as we began walking back toward the residential corridors.
"Princess Xiao and Princess Xie'en were systematically compared by the court since birth," Chou Xi explained quietly from the back of the group. "I highly doubt she would experience a fraction of joy if her sister were to materialize from the dead suddenly."
"Furthermore, Princess Xie'en was universally praised and beloved by the common citizens of Arghon," Ji Wok added coldly, his eyes tracking the shadows before he entered his private quarters, effectively terminating his participation in the conversation.
"It would represent a catastrophic political blow for Xiao and the entire empire if she is truly alive," Pei Hang added, shaking his head.
"How exactly did she die?" I questioned, keeping my voice perfectly casual as I stepped into the center of the group.
"She was officially sentenced to permanent exile at the remote Northern Mansion," Pei Hang explained, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Her transport carriage was violently ambushed along the mountain pass."
"Sentenced to exile?" I pressed.
"That is a profoundly long, dark history," Eun Jo intervened, taking over the narrative. "Her biological mother emerged from an entirely unknown, low-born origin, and she was ultimately executed by royal decree following a series of treasonous rumors in the court. As a direct consequence, the Second Princess was stripped of her titles and exiled to the freezing northern estate for a duration of ten years."
"And the official report stated that her carriage was completely ambushed by rebels and burned to absolute ash," Pei Hang concluded, shuddering slightly. "No physical remains were ever recovered from the site. The only evidence left behind was a charred royal hairpin belonging specifically to her."
I nodded slowly, keeping my face completely expressionless as I entered my room.
That was, indeed, a profoundly tragic story.