4

…

With his typical ruthlessness, Tay buried her under paperwork from early morning until late at night—tasks far beyond what her duties required. On the other hand, Mishi did not complain. No one waited for her at home, and in her anxiety she found his unbearable nature to be something she perhaps even deserved. At that time, she had no wishes left, no prospects. She only hoped that when “day D” came, she would collapse somewhere during one of his shouting fits, so he would finally understand he was driving people around him into the grave.

Their relationship had therefore begun as a war, but it changed. Once Mishi survived the initial onslaught, Taris eased up on her ever so slightly, giving her space to notice things. Above all, that he himself was far busier than she could ever be. Mishi had no idea when Tay slept, because she saw him in the palace all the time. The explanation for such relentless effort reached her only after a year, once she had earned his trust and, through reading certain confidential documents, understood how he functioned as the ruler’s deputy—and that the entire position was the calculated idea of Mario Ward.

The ruler of Areneán himself, Mario Ward, had in fact been the only person in the palace who, until a few years earlier, had not known the infamous Tay at all. As part of his work in the economic division, Tay sometimes assisted at government sessions. He was the overlooked errand boy whose task was, from time to time, to shuffle folders on the council members’ tables. For the rest of the meeting, Tay sat in the corner by the cabinet like a shamed schoolboy, holding a stack of files with the importance of a piece of furniture.

For some, unbearably dull—but for Tay, being present at such governmental discussions was thrilling. He lived for all those numbers and concepts flying through the room, and more importantly, he understood them. He knew he understood them better than some of the people sitting at the council table. And so he sat and listened with an apparently absent gaze through the window. Yet such an aura of confidence mixed with a hint of arrogance did not escape the council, and nervous glances began sticking to Taris over time.

When Mario finally noticed the perpetually brooding young man in the council chamber, he had no idea of his name or why the presence of a low-level aide made the council members’ voices strangely uncertain. As Mario later recounted, Tay was simply odd. He looked like he was not listening, yet the corners of his mouth twitched every time they discussed something that made Mario uneasy. Mario sensed a certain connection with this young man and, almost without realizing it, found himself looking at Tay whenever he was unsure.

Mario Ward was, by nature, intuitive, open, cheerful, and likable. In his role, far too informal. He was a good politician and economist, but his most productive years were already behind him, and he was far more interested in the pleasures of a forever aging bachelor. Although he had ruled for almost twenty years and was approaching fifty, he was full of life even with the wrinkles and never spent an entire day in the office. He fulfilled his obligations as minimally as possible. He knew the office needed someone who would lend it a bit more seriousness, but the council never let him step down because he was beloved in Areneán.

Thus, it was not unusual when Mario invited Tay for a drink and, after one long night of discussion, promoted him straight to his personal intelligence officer. Whether they spoke of current issues or let themselves drift into utopian visions, they understood each other brilliantly, and Mario saw in Tay a younger version of himself. Even though Tay resembled him only professionally, Mario liked him from that evening on, and they soon became friends. Over time, Tay earned the position of assistant and eventually the ruler’s deputy.

By the time Mishi was helping him, Tay Taris was already, in practice, more than a deputy. Mario relied on him excessively for his own duties, and Tay had become his shadow. Their cooperation reached a point where Tay secretly ruled Areneán, and Mario trusted him completely. Only the government council refused to accept that Tay Taris might officially take Mario’s place. Despite his abilities, Tay was simply too hated.

…

When Mishi finally understood that her superior was not the actual deputy—and how covertly, under immense pressure and without recognition, he performed the most responsible work—she suddenly felt much more respect for him. He was no longer just a yelling ignoramus. She saw in him an overworked, humble genius who had taken on more than anyone could imagine. Even though Taris was personally irritable toward her, she could see how deeply he cared about Areneán and how he lived through every looming problem.

On a personal scale, Taris cared for no one. In the laws, he cared for everyone. To Mishi, it was a strangely contrasting combination, yet she understood him, and perhaps… perhaps she had begun to like this hated antisocial man.