You know the word “off,” right?
People say things like, “Finally, I’ve got a day off!” That kind of off.
When you’re new at a company, you actually get quite a lot of it.
But the higher you climb, the less and less you get. If your boss looks like he has plenty of free time, that is exactly what it looks like.
Once you become an executive, your time off shrinks to almost nothing.
And once you become company president, it disappears altogether.
You might think that can’t possibly be true. Department heads and directors are always out playing golf or drinking, aren’t they? They barely bother showing up at the office.
You might think that.
A company president barely comes to the office at all, right?
True.
But I’m using a slightly different definition of “off.”
The physical constraints on your time certainly decrease. Mentally, though, it’s another story. If you define time off as the time when you can completely drive everything related to work out of your head, then the higher you rise, the less of it you have.
When you become company president, I am not exaggerating when I say that from the moment you wake up until the moment you fall asleep, some part of your mind is always thinking about work.
Your life and your job fuse together until you can’t separate them anymore.
It’s surprisingly exhausting.
I’m not talking about anything lofty, either. Business plans and things like that can be handled by gathering the right people, setting aside the time, and hammering the whole thing out at once.
No, what happens instead is that anxieties keep spawning endlessly in your head.
Did that thing work out?
Will this be okay?
Can that person handle it properly?
There is no end to them.
Eventually, you start thinking things like, What if the sky falls tomorrow? First I’ll have to issue a notice that all our stores are closing...
And being king is exactly the same.
From morning to night, it’s nothing but What do I do? What do I do?
Work creeps into even the smallest parts of daily life.
To maintain your sanity, you need something you can completely immerse yourself in.
In other words, you need a hobby.
Without one, you’ll go mad.
So please forgive me.
I am currently trying to commission a new watch.
◆
Apparently, the watch I use all the time was made by a craftsman named Abram Blague.
Old me had excellent taste when it came to this watch.
A simple gold case with no decoration whatsoever on the outside.
Open the lid, and you find beautiful guilloché engraving. Three hands, with small seconds.
Ah, you know—the kind where the seconds hand is tiny and sits just above the six o’clock position.
Knowing the old me, he probably thought that not caring about personal possessions was proof of being some sort of hero. Then one of his attendants prepared this watch for him, and he used it.
That might make it seem as though his own eye for aesthetics had nothing to do with it, but if he had disliked it, he would have demanded something else.
The fact that he kept using it meant he at least approved of its simplicity.
And now current me wants another one.
Because, you see—
I can’t see the movement!
Unacceptable.
This man supplies watches to the Royal House. He has to be one of the finest watchmakers in Santeneri.
And if the watch was intended for the king, then surely Blague himself made it by hand. There is no way he left it to an apprentice.
And yet I cannot see the movement?
No.
That will not do.
With expensive watches, even the parts no one normally sees are polished to an obsessive degree and decorated beautifully.
If I start talking about different finishing techniques, I will never stop, so I’ll spare you. The point is that the insides can be more beautiful than ordinary jewelry.
And far more expensive.
Which makes sense, really.
Human labor is the most expensive thing there is.
If you tie up a master craftsman—the equivalent of a Living National Treasure—for months, or sometimes years, all of that labor cost gets built into the final price.
I want to see the movement.
So eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore and summoned Blague.
I actually wanted to visit his shop.
But impossible is impossible.
I did at least consult the attendants.
“We shall arrange it immediately.”
That was the head attendant’s response.
The look he gave me was gently indulgent.
I am fairly certain the “I want to go there” portion of my request was completely deleted inside his head.
By “arrange,” he apparently meant deciding when to summon Blague.
“Please do.”
I answered, then suddenly realized something.
This man must have seen me fiddling with my watch whenever I had a little spare time.
Which meant he knew I had a proper interest in watches.
It was currently a little before bedtime.
Ah.
If I left things as they were, Blague would be here tomorrow.
That would be bad.
It was already past eleven at night.
They would send a servant to Blague’s house, wake him from his sleep, and announce:
“His Majesty summons you. Present yourself at the palace tomorrow at two in the afternoon.”
Meanwhile, the head attendant would have to rearrange my schedule for tomorrow and create an opening.
Fast horses would be dispatched to everyone affected by the change.
Yeah.
That would be bad.
“Ah, there is no hurry. Whenever there is a convenient opening that does not inconvenience anyone will be fine. ...I mean that.”
◆
And thus, the day finally arrived.
When I entered my usual tea room, I saw a somewhat short, middle-aged man kneeling with both knees on the floor in a corner.
This room is, after all, an absurdly large small room.
At first I thought he was some kind of ornament.
It’s amazing, really.
In modern Japan, a watchmaker of this caliber would practically be a god.
Technically, we would be the customers, but the relationship would feel completely reversed.
There are countless other people eager to buy his work, so naturally that is how things turn out.
Supply and demand.
And now this incredible craftsman was sitting quietly in a corner, waiting for me to “address” him.
Very Santeneri.
And today, we also have some special guests.
Frankly, I would have been perfectly happy without them.
Watches are something I prefer to buy alone.
But these are special guests I cannot exactly refuse.
First, Zofi.
I casually let slip that I liked watches, and apparently she remembered. Later she asked to see mine, so I showed it to her.
At the time, I also casually mentioned that I planned to buy another one.
It happens.
People get talkative when the subject is their hobby.
Then Zofi told me that, by pure coincidence, she had also been thinking about getting a watch.
Ask your distinguished-looking father and I’m sure one of his household craftsmen will make you one.
That was what I wanted to say.
But I didn’t want her looking down at the floor again.
Besides, it genuinely makes me happy when someone shows interest in something I love.
Once you get into a terminally niche hobby like watches, fellow enthusiasts are hard to come by.
“Then you should ask Blague to make one for you as well, Lady Zofi.”
Yes.
I did it.
The money will work itself out somehow.
House Gaillure has more of it than House Leroy does, anyway.
But we are not done yet.
Braune ended up joining us too.
Apparently, ever since I handed her my watch to look at, she had been fascinated by its beauty.
Oh.
That makes me happy!
Though honestly, she looks like someone who has absolutely no interest in watches.
She even gives off the faint impression that once she gets married, she will immediately corner her husband with:
“Dear, you only have two wrists. Why exactly do you need ten or twenty watches?”
Still, I wonder how she even found out that I had summoned Blague.
I can guess.
Braune’s father is the Steward of House Leroy.
The Steward is effectively the chancellor of Santeneri, but quite literally, he is also the head servant of House Leroy.
In other words, he is the head attendant’s superior.
And then there is Mary.
Probably because I asked to see her stuffed toy.
Later, she turned the question around on me and asked, “What are Your Majesty’s current hobbies?”
So I answered honestly.
She immediately said,
“Watches are extremely important in military service. I own one myself, but it has not been keeping good time recently. Your Majesty, what would you recommend?”
Take it to your family’s watchmaker...
That was what I wanted to say.
But she cut me off beautifully.
“I am ashamed to expose my family’s shortcomings, but House Barois has been a military house for generations. We have almost no connections among craftsmen who make decorative goods.”
Then she said it in a slightly lonely voice.
That got me.
“Then perhaps you should look at them with us next time.”
And of course I said it.
If I stop and think about it, the whole thing is ridiculous.
If watches are so important to the military, surely they have a dedicated craftsman.
Hard-driving career women are frightening.
And she probably got the information from somewhere too.
Are all of you secretly coordinating behind my back?
Probably.
◆
“I am glad you could come, Blague. Forgive me for imposing on you. Come, join us. Today I have also invited these ladies, who have taken an interest in the excellence of your watches. I am delighted to have such a pleasant gathering.”
I addressed Blague and invited him over to the corner furnished with sofas and a table.
“Your Majesty, I am deeply honored beyond words that you have granted me this audience.”
He was being very serious about it.
This sort of thing is exhausting.
“No, no, I should be the one thanking you. I have summoned a man reputed to be one of the great watchmakers of our age.”
I answered with a smile.
A blank expression would probably put an unbearable amount of pressure on him.
While I was at it, I decided to introduce the “ladies who had taken an interest in the excellence of his watches.”
They might become clients too.
“This is Lady Braune en Froisbourg, daughter of Marquis Froisbourg.”
I began with Braune, seated to my right.
Blague was already visibly flustered.
A craftsman who made watches of this caliber almost certainly had noble clients, so it would not be surprising if he knew the name of House Froisbourg.
“And this is Lady Zofi en Gaillure, daughter of the Duke of Gaillure.”
Blague failed completely to hide the expression that said, Oh dear God.
His round black eyes looked ready to roll straight back into his head.
There is no one in Santeneri who does not know the name Gaillure.
In Japanese terms, it is like saying “Hokkaido.”
I understand.
Suddenly encountering people this important is stressful.
“And standing behind me is Lady Mary en Barois, daughter of Count Barois.”
She was not standing because of any difference in rank.
Unlike the other two, Mary was wearing the semi-formal uniform of the Royal Guard and held an actual military post.
She was also serving as my bodyguard.
When everyone took their positions, that moment was surprisingly scary.
The three women looked at each other.
Then silence.
They had been chatting pleasantly enough until then.
“Now then, Blague, let us talk about watches. Please, have a seat.”
I indicated the chair opposite me and sat down myself.
Everyone else sat at the same time.
Mary stepped out from behind my chair and moved to stand beside our seats.
◆
I have seen this scene somewhere before.
Ah.
It’s like one of those flashy IT presidents showing up at a boutique surrounded by aspiring models and actresses who are still trying to break through.
“So, which one looks coolest on me? What do you think, ___?”
He asks the girls.
“Ooh, I think this one suits you, ___.”
And replies like that echo around the shop.
Meanwhile, ignoring the whole spectacle, the store manager and I spend ages having some hopelessly technical conversation.
Two middle-aged men with loupes pressed to our eyes, staring at a movement while saying things like:
“The Côtes de Genève here are nice and shallow. Think this was finished by hand? Just what you’d expect from ___.”
And now, in another world, I was actually going to be the man asking:
“So, which one looks coolest on me?”
Except the women beside me were not aspiring models or actresses.
They were the beloved daughters of terrifyingly powerful people—the sort of people for whom, if some commoner committed an insult, there was a very real chance that said commoner’s head would abruptly become separated from his body.
And, to put it mildly, all three of them already looked like fully established actresses rather than anyone’s “aspiring” anything.
But I had made up my mind.
This was absolutely not going to become an occasion for flaunting a black card and the keys to a Lamborghini while bragging about how rich I was.
Sorry, but I am doing this my way.
“Blague, I am very fond of this watch you made. The engraving on the dial is exceptionally delicate. And the blued hands are beautiful. Your yield must be terrible.”
“Yield... Your Majesty?”
“Yes. I mean you must fail quite often before producing hands with a finish this clean.”
His face lit up.
I knew it.
Enthusiasts understand each other.
Even in Santeneri.
“Your Majesty’s discerning eye truly leaves me in awe. You are entirely correct. These hands are made by heating the iron, and the slightest mistake in temperature control causes the color to cloud.”
“Do you make the hands yourself as well?”
“I do, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent. The shape of the hands determines much of a watch’s character. ...And the base plate of the dial—is it brass?”
“Certainly not. For a watch intended for Your Majesty’s use, I plated solid gold.”
“I see. It is silver in color, so I assumed it could not be gold. Plating, then. Did you make this from scratch as well?”
“No. This dial came from the Empire—”
Blague’s stream of words came to an abrupt stop.
His eyes began darting around violently.
What just happened?
“Blague, His Majesty is a wise ruler who clearly separates affairs of state from matters of technology. You need not be concerned.”
Mary’s intervention finally made me realize what was wrong.
Ah.
Right.
I used to hate the Empire.
I’d forgotten.
Braune and the others knew that current me did not feel that way anymore, but news like that would take time to filter down to ordinary people.
“Y-yes... of course...”
“As Lady Barois says, Blague, I hold no prejudice against Imperial technology. Good work is good work. That is simply a fact. You want to make the finest watch possible, do you not? Then you should use the finest components available.”
Blague, you might want to wipe your face.
You look like you just finished a half-marathon in midsummer.
“By the way, Blague, did you bring any samples today?”
There are no ready-made watches for royalty and high nobility.
Everything is commissioned.
You look at samples that establish the basic form, then customize from there.
Of course, it is also possible to design something entirely from scratch.
But when someone with no design experience decides to create “the ultimate watch I imagined myself,” the result is usually pretty dreadful.
“Of course, Your Majesty! However, as I prepared only with Your Majesty in mind, I am afraid I brought nothing intended for ladies...”
“That is no concern. They are the ones who joined us unexpectedly. May we see what you brought?”
Blague eagerly began taking boxes from his bag.
Mary stared intently at his hands.
Mary is actually working...
I suppose the man could suddenly pull a pistol out of that bag.
Though I assume they searched his belongings before letting him anywhere near this room.
Still.
Better safe than sorry, I suppose.
◆
Five pocket watches were arranged across the table.
I picked one up and was just about to enter full observation mode.
Then I felt someone looking at me.
I turned to the right and met Braune’s eyes.
Braune.
Look at the watch, not me.
I know you are not interested.
I know.
But you might still find one you like.
“Lady Braune, look here. See this small opening in the dial?”
I had not forced her to come, so I had no obligation to entertain her.
Still, I felt bad leaving her bored the entire time.
I leaned toward her, intending to explain what was interesting about the watch in my hand—
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, look at this! There is a face painted on the moon!”
Someone suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
Zofi is surprisingly strong.
And by strong, I mean both muscle strength and political power.
Normally, suddenly yanking on the king’s arm could turn into a fairly serious incident.
But she is the princess of House Gaillure.
She can get away with that much.
Aristocrats are terrifying.
And in the corner of my vision, I caught Braune’s gaze.
Nice and sharp.
Her lips were smiling, mind you.
Terrifying.
“Ah, Lady Zofi. That is a mechanism that shows the phases of the moon. Is that correct, Blague?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Exactly so.”
“Lady Braune, Lady Mary, you should both have a look as well. The face painted on the moon has a strangely foolish expression. It is rather amusing.”
At times like this, you invite everyone.
Pull them all in.
Make it a shared experience for the entire group.
There is no other path to survival.
◆
The next time I meet Blague, I am absolutely doing it alone.
I swore that to myself.
This is rough.
It really is.
They are all—probably—kindhearted young ladies, but every now and then one of them makes this expression like a Noh mask, and...
Well.
You know.
A company president and a king have quite a lot in common.
But there are also places where they are completely different, and this is one of them.
Monogamy was a magnificent invention.
As a man, I believe that with all my heart.
In my case, my principal queen has already been decided, mostly for political reasons.
But here on the Central Continent, there is also the institution of secondary consorts.
It is a system like a grater designed specifically to shred a man’s mind into daikon paste.
Then again, perhaps that system is precisely why royal dynasties around here survive for such absurd lengths of time.
Even our own House Leroy shifted onto a collateral branch once during Queen Marguerite’s reign, but since then the direct line has continued for more than seven hundred years.
The secondary-consort system probably has a great deal to do with that.
Maybe I should just go back to acting like old me and pretend to be a fanatical devotee of the Orthodox Faith.
I genuinely considered it for a moment.
But no.
That would cause a panic.
It was only because I became current me that we managed to reach the point of making peace with Estburg.
The moment everyone became convinced I had reverted to old me, the upper ranks of Santeneri would go into a state of extreme alarm.
Suspicion would spread everywhere.
In the end, even buying a single watch is politics.
Can’t be helped.
I am the king.
Oh, by the way, I ordered two.
One is a pocket watch.
The other is...
This is where I will finally put the one piece of modern knowledge I can actually use in Santeneri to work.
It will contribute absolutely nothing to the development of the country.
It is almost entirely for my own benefit.
Oh, and all three ladies ordered the same pocket watch as me.
I have several things I would like to say about that.
This is not matching outfits!
A watch is not some cute little prop for feeling a sense of togetherness!
This is serious business!
Naturally, I could not say any of that, so I simply smiled and said,
“I am delighted. Now we have another bond connecting us.”
I’m looking forward to the delivery.