Morning light streamed through the corridor. The stone walls were bathed in white, and beyond the windows stretched the rooftops of Felthain's old city. Misaki walked down the palace administrative wing's hallway, clutching documents she had finished writing the night before. She recalled yesterday's events. The moment the Finance Ministry bureaucrat had stood before the door and told her in a smooth tone to "refrain from proceeding." When Reon had said "it would be faster to silence him by force," and she had stopped him. That instant when their gazes collided head-on in the middle of the corridor. That night, Misaki had read every line of the Reincarnate Registration Ordinance. The wording of the advisor clause, its subsidiary provisions, the possibility of "authority expansion application" that the bureaucrat had flatly denied as "not included." The answer existed. Today, she would test it. At the far end of the corridor stood the same man as yesterday. Official robes with black base and gold trim. Thin white hair. When the eyes behind his glasses recognized Misaki, they narrowed slightly. "Today as well, I must inform you of the same matter——" the Finance Ministry bureaucrat began. "An authority expansion application," Misaki said quietly. She held out a single document. The man did not take it. Misaki did not withdraw. "This is an application document based on the subsidiary provisions of Article Seven of the Advisor Clause in the Reincarnate Registration Ordinance. While the submission destination is technically the State Council, it is customary for the Finance Ministry to receive it as an intermediary. If you refuse to accept it, I will need your reasons in writing." The man's gaze fell to the document. He turned a page. Then another. Then another. In the corridor, the sound of morning birds could be heard. Somewhere distant, the changing of the guard echoed. The man bit his lip. The movement was so slight it seemed as though his teeth were grinding. "...I accept it." The approval seal was stamped. The man did not return the documents. He simply walked deeper into the corridor. Misaki watched his receding figure without changing her expression. There was no need to change it. (I did it.) Inside her chest alone, she made a small fist pump. In her previous life too, whenever she had managed to extract reluctant approval from a client, she always felt like this. A small victory, seen by no one but herself. Behind her, Reon stood with his arms crossed, silent. When she turned around, his golden eyes were still fixed on the space where the documents had vanished. "A single sheet of paper did all that. Faster than a sword," Reon said. His tone was impossible to read—whether admiration or dissatisfaction. "I use whatever weapons are available. The same as Your Highness's sword," Misaki replied. Reon said nothing. He simply exhaled sharply through his nose. She was beginning to understand that this was his way of saying "acknowledged." --- The inspection departed before noon. Reon had insisted on "minimal escort," and as a result, only two soldiers followed ten paces behind. Markt Street—the main thoroughfare of Felthain's old city—was the most crowded place within the city walls. Cobblestones stretched ahead, and shop signs swayed in the wind. As Misaki walked, she counted with her eyes. The shelves held few goods. Particularly the grain and processed food shelves were sparse. When she passed the weapon smithy "Verner's Furnace," the elderly shopkeeper was speaking with a customer, but his tone was casual conversation, not price negotiation—evidence of thin foot traffic. Looking at the merchants' faces, most were elderly; she saw almost no young merchants. (There's no distribution hub.) Misaki organized her thoughts. Surplus goods from the villages never reached the market. The market's scarcity further reduced the villages' income. Farmers were left with excess goods they couldn't sell, merchants couldn't source inventory, and both sides suffered. A vicious cycle was quietly deepening. Then her feet stopped. An old man was bowing deeply. A white-haired merchant with a bent back. He appeared to be the owner of a cloth shop, holding his hat in both hands, folding his waist at a ninety-degree angle toward Reon. "Your Highness. Word of the border incident the other day has reached us merchants as well. There is nothing this old fool can do, but...please, I beg you," the old merchant said, his voice trembling. It was a complex sound—gratitude mixed with desperate hope. Reon stopped and looked at the old man directly. "Continue your business. That is all," Reon said. The words were brief. Nothing more. But the old man's shoulders dropped. A breath of relief escaped him. Misaki watched the scene from a slight distance. She found herself gazing at Reon's profile as he interacted with the people. His dignified golden eyes, in this moment alone, became something other than a swordsman or a prince. A quiet face that received the old man's words head-on. Slightly different from his usual cold gaze that seemed to measure everything. (This person is trusted by the people despite hating politics because he has protected this nation with his sword.) She understood it logically. But seeing it now, before her eyes, it reached not her head but her chest. A complex warmth—she couldn't quite name the sensation. "Let's go," came his low voice, and Misaki hastily looked away. --- On the way back, the sky suddenly darkened. When they reached the edge of Markt Street, the first drop fell on the cobblestones. The next moment, rain began pouring down with a roar. "This way," Reon said, and ran ahead. Misaki followed immediately. A dozen steps ahead, they ducked under the eaves of the smithy "Verner's Furnace"—a narrow overhang barely a meter wide where the furnace chimney protruded from the wall. The two guards separated to the eaves of a merchant house across the way. The rain intensified all at once. The cobblestones turned white with mist, and water rushed into the drainage channels. Under the eaves, Misaki and Reon stood at a distance where their shoulders almost touched. The smithy's furnace was working beyond the wall, and warm air leaked out. In the strange mixture of the rain's cold and the furnace's heat, Reon's cloak sleeve was just near Misaki's arm. The fabric was almost touching. Misaki tried to shift her body slightly and bumped against the edge of the eaves. She couldn't move. (Does this person have no sense of distance?) Quiet panic was rising inside her. On the surface, she carefully controlled her breathing to show nothing. Reon watched the rain. His front hair was slightly wet, and he brushed it back with one hand in an offhand gesture—just that simple movement, yet Misaki's gaze became fixed for an instant. (This is bad,) she thought, but it was already too late. "The core of the restructuring plan was to create a distribution hub, wasn't it?" Reon said, still watching the rain. No preamble, just naturally. As if he had been thinking about this continuation all along. (Why would he say that now, of all times?) Misaki took one breath to steady herself before answering. "A proposal to establish a temporary collection point between the villages of Milchfeld and the capital. If we create a system ensuring the villages' surplus goods reliably reach the market, both sides' income will improve." Her voice didn't waver. Good, she thought inwardly. As she tried to unfold the parchment she was holding, a raindrop fell on its edge. The next moment, Reon's finger touched the corner of the parchment. A simple motion—drawing it under the eaves. His finger stopped just near Misaki's fingertip. Almost touching. Something deep in her chest pulsed strongly. A place she hadn't known existed suddenly asserted its presence. (He was just protecting the plan document. Calm down.) She told herself. Her reason was right. But at the same time, a feeling that it might be fine to stay here a little longer quietly sprouted somewhere in her chest. The moment she noticed it, Misaki felt a slight surprise. She had never thought she would feel such emotions, in either her previous life or this one. "The villages' transportation costs versus the hub's maintenance expenses. Which is larger?" Reon asked, peering at the parchment together, the distance unchanged. Misaki traced the numbers while keeping her gaze on the parchment. "According to my calculations, the transportation cost savings exceed the maintenance expenses. Specifically, approximately three thousand gold sol annually in profit. The investment can be recovered within five years." "Your basis?" "Calculated from the difference between the harvest volumes recorded in the Gais Documents' agriculture chapter and the current purchase prices on Markt Street." Reon fell silent. Whether he was verifying the calculations in his mind or simply listening to the rain, she couldn't tell. The furnace's heat drifted. The rain continued. Water flowed across the cobblestones. The rain began to ease some time later. Light returned from the edge of the sky, and the wet cobblestones gleamed dully. The skeleton of the plan was completely solidified. --- The palace council convened at dusk. Officials surrounding the long table held the plan document Reon had submitted. After an initial silence, objections erupted. "This is an unprecedented measure. The budget justification is thin," one bureaucrat said. "Is it not dangerous to adopt a reincarnate's advice as policy?" another asked. "There is a precedent of attempting to establish such a collection point in the past, which ended in failure," a third added. Voices overlapped. Reon sat with his arms crossed in silence, visible at the edge of Misaki's vision. The silence of a man who had said answers come by the sword, now in the realm of politics. Misaki rose quietly. The conference room fell silent for a moment. It was probably unprecedented for a reincarnate to even stand in such a setting. "I will begin with the revenue projections," Misaki said, her voice calm. She placed one document on the table. "Current tax revenue from the villages is sixty percent of what it was twenty years ago. We estimate the primary causes to be deteriorating irrigation infrastructure and the breakdown of distribution networks. If the collection hub is established and surplus goods reach the market, the villages' disposable income will increase, and we project a ten to fifteen percent improvement in the tax base within five years." She placed a second document. "Regarding the reduction in logistics costs: comparing the current individual transportation expenses farmers incur to bring goods to the capital against the costs of bulk transport through the collection hub, the difference exceeds three thousand gold sol annually. The investment recovery period is within five years." She turned her gaze to the bureaucrat who had mentioned precedent. "Isn't it because there was no precedent that the finances have not improved over these twenty years?" The conference room fell completely silent. Someone coughed. Papers rustled. For a while, nothing else could be heard. Ultimately, the plan was approved. --- Just outside the conference room doors, Reon stopped walking. The corridor held only the two of them. The guards remained inside. Reon turned around and silently extended his right hand. Misaki didn't understand the meaning. She thought it might be a handshake, but his palm wasn't facing up. His hand was in a fist. (What is this?) She tilted her head slightly, and in that moment, Reon spoke. "I heard that in your previous life, people celebrate like this," he said in a blunt tone. She couldn't imagine where he had heard this or what he had investigated. But the moment she heard those words, Misaki laughed. A silent laugh that showed on her face. Sh