My Name Is Albrecht

I am Albrecht Kaufmann. No, right now, I am simply Albrecht.

I was born as the third son of a poor baronial family in the Megad Empire.

Though we were nobles, we were a poor baronial house, and as the third son, my future was anything but bright. However, I was fortunate in one respect: I was intelligent.

I learned to speak earlier than most children and quickly grasped written language.

Seeing this, my parents scraped together what little wealth they had to hire a private tutor and give me an advanced education. I graduated at the top of my class from the Bureaucrats’ Academy, and my promotion rate far outpaced that of my peers.

The Megad Empire places strong emphasis on merit, supported by a well-organized bureaucratic system. Officials from the central government are dispatched to noble territories, where they strictly oversee local administration.

As a result, power has become increasingly centralized.

There were officials who colluded with local nobles and lined their own pockets. However, crimes committed by bureaucrats were punished severely, and skimming a modest amount of money simply wasn’t worth the risk.

Thus, noble authority gradually weakened while bureaucratic power grew stronger.

To prevent local nobles from abusing their status to impose unreasonable demands, bureaucrats assigned to territories were appointed as honorary nobles, valid for a single generation. As an official’s rank rose, they would be elevated accordingly within this one-generation nobility system.

There were even individuals who rose from commoner to minister and were appointed as marquesses. As long as one had ability, it was possible to rise in the world, even if the title lasted only for one generation.

Because of this, everyone worked desperately. There were power struggles and attempts to sabotage rivals, but no one was foolish enough to endanger the nation itself.

The Megad Empire’s bureaucrats were, on the whole, highly capable, successfully managing a vast nation grown large through the annexation of other countries.

Upon graduating from the Bureaucrats’ Academy, officials rotated through each ministry in turn, where their aptitudes were assessed before receiving a final assignment.

There, I distinguished myself in the Ministry of Commerce, the most prestigious post for civil officials, and despite still being in my training period, my assignment to the Ministry was finalized early.

Even though we were technically at war, the Megad Empire conducted trade with the Leagam Kingdom through intermediary small states.

I had already mastered the Leagam language while still a student, allowing me to conduct smooth negotiations without an interpreter.

Displaying my talents there, I generated enormous profits in the trade division.

As a result, I caught the eye of the Minister of Commerce and was placed firmly on the fast track to promotion. Before long, I was appointed an honorary knight.

Because I came from a poor baronial family, I had been harassed by higher-ranking nobles at the academy. Even so, I studied relentlessly, secured a posting to a prestigious department, and earned the favor of a minister.

I was at the peak of my life.

Bureaucrats do not need personal combat ability, so most of us stop leveling with adventurers once we reach a certain point.

When force is required, one simply hires others. Watching my peers spend fortunes hiring adventurers and desperately grinding levels, I found them foolish.

Gather knowledge. Build connections. Rise in rank.

If you do that, there’s no need to waste vast sums of money or endure hardship just to raise your own level. You can obtain all the force you need by hiring people.

While my classmates wasted time on inefficient efforts, I focused on accumulating knowledge.

Once you become a bureaucrat in the Ministry of Commerce and rise to a certain rank, merchants begin bringing you “gifts.” Even without offering them favors, they voluntarily hand over money and valuables.

Accepting such gifts alone is not considered a crime; a certain degree of benefit is tacitly overlooked. These offerings from merchants far exceeded a bureaucrat’s official salary.

The Ministry of Commerce is considered a prestigious post simply because it pays well. Power attracts money, and money attracts power. I gained enormous wealth and was able to send large sums back to my family.

My elder brother, the heir, bowed deeply to me, desperately currying my favor.

A third son isn’t even a spare. He had resented the fact that money was spent on hiring a tutor for someone like me, and he had bullied me relentlessly because of it.

And now that same brother was bowing his head to me. My pride was deeply satisfied.

My former classmates, who had mocked me as the third son of a poor baron and bullied me without mercy, now groveled before me as well because I was the Minister of Commerce’s favorite.

What must it feel like to bow your head to someone you once despised and tormented?

Just imagining it filled me with an indescribable pleasure.

I had wealth, a noble title, and the favor of my superiors. Everyone around me bowed and flattered me. It didn’t take long for my personality to become twisted in such an environment.

I grew arrogant and overbearing.

I was also, by most standards, better-looking than average. As a wealthy elite with good looks, I was popular with women. As my arrogance deepened, I began to treat women like objects.

Even so, they continued to flock to me.

I looked down on them, using them as disposable tools for my own pleasure. Any woman was easy to claim.

Then, at one party, I encountered a woman who did not fall for me.

She was a woman who could barely be called beautiful, just barely within that range. Compared to the women I had taken to my bed before, she was one or two ranks below them.

She was not of noble birth. She was the daughter of a small shopkeeper, running a modest family business. If I had truly wished it, her shop could have been ruined by the very next day.

And yet, that daughter of a tiny shop did not fall for me.

My pride was deeply wounded. Out of sheer stubbornness, I pursued her relentlessly. No matter how expensive the gifts I gave, no matter how eloquently I showered her with honeyed words that would have made other women blush and soften their gaze, she would not yield.

One day, I asked her, “If you reject me so strongly, why don’t you refuse my invitations outright?”

She answered that if she opposed a bureaucrat like me, it would bring trouble to her parents.

My pride was shattered.

In a fit of rage, I forced her down and took her by force. Hearing her quiet, sobbing cries, guilt began to eat away at me.

After that, I lived my days as if I had forgotten about her. And yet, like a fish bone stuck in my throat, something throbbed painfully inside me.

One day, I visited her family’s shop.

She was working desperately in that small store, sweating, injuring her hands, laboring with all her strength.

How many days would she have to work to earn the amount of money I received from merchants as “gifts”?

The old me would have sneered at the thought. And yet, for some reason, the sweat she shed felt precious.

I decided to apologize to her.

I didn’t think she would forgive me now. She might have wanted to forget everything. Perhaps I only wanted to ease my own conscience. Even so, I wanted to apologize.

I bought flowers that I thought would suit her at a flower shop, and though it wasn’t expensive, I also bought a brooch that I felt suited her. Then I went to see her.

I intended to bow my head, but some strange remnant of pride got in the way, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it properly. Somehow, I forced the words out and awkwardly handed her the flowers.

“I’m sorry about what happened back then. Please take these.”

Her face lit up like a flower in bloom, and she smiled as she thanked me.

“More than expensive gifts without feeling,” she said, “I’m happier knowing you chose something while truly thinking of me.”

At that moment, I fell in love.

For the first time, I fell in love with another person.

After that, I severed all of my flamboyant relationships and slowly nurtured love with her.

My twisted personality gradually corrected itself, and my heart regained its calm.

One day, the minister said to me:

“Your work has always been flawless. But lately, your private life had been in disarray, and you had grown arrogant. To be honest, I was considering letting you go.

“But you regained your composure. When people suddenly acquire wealth or power, they often change, and most never return to who they were.

“You came back. Even after losing sight of yourself, you were able to return. People like that are rare. It’s true that someone who never changes is easier to trust.

“But such people are fragile when they do change. You were once swallowed by desire. And yet, you returned. You are worthy of trust. I’ll be counting on you from here on.”

Saying that, the minister patted my shoulder.

My body trembled with shame and gratitude. The minister had been watching me and my ugly descent into arrogance.

And she had saved me.

She had pulled me back. Thanks to her, I had not been abandoned by the minister.

Guilt toward the minister and gratitude toward her filled my chest, and I was swallowed by emotions more complex than anything I had ever felt before.

After that, I worked desperately to repay my debt to the minister and to nurture my love with her.

My promotions continued smoothly, and I was elevated to the rank of honorary baron.

My responsibilities increased, and though I was busy, I found fulfillment in my work. I began to think seriously about marrying her.

Everything was going well. They were gentle, peaceful, and fulfilling days.

But the world was neither gentle nor peaceful.

That day, I lost everything.