On a small personal scale, Taris cared for no one. In the laws, he thought of everyone. It was strangely contrasting to Mishi, but she understood him, and perhaps… perhaps she was beginning to like this hated antisocial man.
…
That was why she helped him voluntarily beyond her duties, and Tay accepted her help. He even pulled her into several confidential tasks in which she proved herself to his satisfaction. After a few more months, Mishi was more Taris’s assistant than his reporter and eagerly anticipated a promotion. Though her health time was running out quickly, several successful projects gave her life meaning again. She understood why Tay did this work and what the difference was between empty bureaucratic routine and creating something that genuinely changed people’s lives. She could feel the results of their work even as she walked down the street.
…
“…and that’s why it makes no sense for us to stay here, I can’t understand how you don’t see it!” finished Tay a lecture that drifted through Mishi’s thoughts as nothing more than faint humming.
She returned to herself when Tay fell silent. She pulled her distant gaze away from the window and saw his expectant expression. She no longer had any idea what they had been talking about. She took the empty plate from the table and washed it with a calm voice:
“And what’s new at the palace?”
Tay was irritated by her inattention, but in the end welcomed the change of topic.
“Mario wants to come tomorrow and show you his new…” he drew a long breath.
“Girlfriend,” Mishi finished for him, bent over the old metal sink whose noises disrupted the conversation.
“That’s not exactly what I was going to say. But fine.”
“I heard she’s a nice girl. What does she look like?” Mishi stopped the running faucet and then realized that this wasn’t the best question to ask him.
“Like Mario’s secretary. They all look the same. I’m starting to believe there’s a factory somewhere where they pour them from a mold. A special Ward edition. One for every month.”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate,” she laughed.
…
Mishi knew Mario well as an eternal womanizer. He had scolded her more than once for marrying the wrong man from the government floor of the palace. But Mario talked like that constantly. He liked to go around complimenting every pretty woman, not only on the government floor, and even the lovely Mishi did not escape his attention. She took him with a grain of salt, but many of her colleagues succumbed. Few managed to hold his interest for long. Almost none were ever made public. To the media, Mario Ward was an aging, solitary bachelor devoted entirely to Areneán. In the palace, however, everyone knew about his numerous lovers.
All the more it infuriated Tay that such a boss pushed him into conventions. As the ruler’s deputy, Tay had to attend social events, give interviews on Mario’s behalf, and public recognition had annoyed him from the very beginning.
Under the hard shell, Tay Taris was an ordinary shy man who felt uncomfortable in luxury or in the company of women. Even with a high position, he kept everything at a distance for a long time and lived in a small functionalist apartment perfectly reflecting his soul. Mario tolerated Tay’s lax attitude toward representational gestures to an extent, but for the sake of good business relations and the reputation of the government office, he once assigned Tay a completely unexpected task.
It came at a time when Mishi was already handling Tay’s more personal matters as well. If Tay was preparing for a conference or a distant meeting, she had to book the hotels instead of his secretary. He had always done that himself before, because where he laid his head was not something he intended to entrust to anyone. He had a thousand and one quirks. He would not even let anyone tie his tie. But Mishi broke into that space fully, and Tay eventually appreciated when she urgently fetched him a new shirt between meetings. To Mishi, Tay was like a scatterbrained child—brilliant in one thing, indifferent to everything else. All those formalities were a soul-crushing necessity for Tay, in which Mishi felt very useful.
…
Even so, unpleasant duties kept piling onto Tay, and the day came when he walked from the council chamber into his office more furious with Mario than ever before. He completely ignored the fully focused Mishi inside and slammed the door so loudly that the protestful impact could be heard by Mario across the hallway. He threw his heavy keys onto the desk, knocking over the column of folders that Mishi had just painstakingly stacked there. He walked to the window, arms folded, still snorting angrily.
Mishi was used to such situations. Although Mario was not quarrelsome, the irritable Tay had introduced sharper exchanges as a normal part of their working dynamic. But usually it was never more than Tay demonstrating how much he disliked something, and within minutes the two men would be talking calmly again. Mishi therefore rose from her desk without alarm and quietly began gathering the folders.
“I’m not here for this,” Tay growled to himself from the window, still darting his eyes across the rooftops of central Kita.
Mishi gathered the scattered papers, and then curiosity overcame her.
She asked the fuming Tay, “Can I help you with something, teefu?”
“They say I need to get married, do you understand that?!” he turned toward Mishi, blazing. “Because some old, overcompensating idiot with billions said so, and Mario wants to kiss his ass for the next term. He doesn’t like that I don’t have a family, and he won’t sign anything with someone like me. So I—who build his investment budgets every damn day and ensure his spoiled brats get their golden snacks—I’m not good enough. Because I’m not a ‘family type’! What an incredibly important quality for my job! To hell with these rules! I go to those idiotic balls in snobbish clothes, compliment his over-aged tin can of a girlfriend, and still… still it’s not enough! He says I should get married, and Mario obediently nods that I’m already planning it. I’m not! I have no idea where he got that!!! And now the whole damn contract depends on it! You want to help me?! Get me out of this!!!”
He fell hopelessly into the chair: “Or you know what? Better get a gun and shoot me. It’ll be much better than me marrying some idiot.”
He fell silent helplessly and cursed inwardly to himself.
“That sounds like the worst marriage proposal anyone has ever heard,” Mishi acknowledged after a moment.