Chapter 40: Ballots and Common Sense

Meanwhile, at Hakone.

In a sukiyaki restaurant, a few people were about to start eating.

Hitomi’s chopsticks had just picked up a slice of beef when her phone suddenly buzzed.

Hitomi froze.

She put down her chopsticks and pulled her phone out of her bag.

The screen lit up.

The sender’s name made her fingers stop—Imperial Household Agency Personnel Division.

Her expression instantly changed.

“What’s wrong?”

You noticed her expression.

“N-nothing.”

Hitomi forced a smile.

“I’m a little unwell. I’ll go to the restroom.”

She stood up, quickly walked toward the restaurant’s restroom, pushed open the door, went inside, locked it, then leaned against the door.

‘I’m done, I’m done, I’m done.’

Too many things had happened these past few days.

She’d completely forgotten to request leave from the Agency.

Oh god, was she going to get fired?

The Nissho family’s face would be ruined by her.

She took a deep breath and tapped open the email with slightly trembling fingers.

The words on the screen appeared line by line.

She read it from beginning to end, then from end to beginning.

She doubted her eyes, blinked, and read it again.

“Dear Ms. Nissho Hitomi,

According to the personnel transfer arrangements of this Agency, effective immediately, your position has been changed to ‘Shinto Affairs Advisor.’ Regular attendance is no longer required. Duty location and work content will be notified separately.

This is for your information.

Imperial Household Agency Personnel Division”

Hitomi tilted her head and let out a gasp.

“Eh—”

She stood in the restroom, phone clutched in her hand, her mind in a complete mess.

No need to report to work?

A sinecure?

Shinto Affairs Advisor?

What kind of position was that?

She’d never heard of this post in the Imperial Household Agency.

She turned the sentence over and over in her head.

Not a firing, not a punishment, not even a warning.

It was a transfer.

And it sounded like a pretty high-level one.

What on earth was going on?

She stared at the words “Special Liaison Officer” on the screen, getting the feeling that those words carried a kind of “we don’t know where to put you, so just put you here for now” dismissal.

She recalled the divine oracle from Amaterasu Omikami last night, and then the warm divine grace in her chest.

Could it be…

She shook her head, throwing out the thought.

Impossible.

No matter how powerful Amaterasu Omikami was, She couldn’t reach into the Agency’s personnel transfers.

Right?

Ah, forget it.

Anyway, knowing she wasn’t fired suddenly made her feel really tired.

She put her phone away and looked at her face in the mirror.

Her complexion was still pretty bad.

She patted her cheeks, took a few deep breaths, and felt she looked much better.

Then she opened the door and walked out.

***

Hitomi returned from the restroom, pulled out her chair, and sat down.

Her complexion was a bit better than before, and her face had regained that gentle smile, but there was still a trace of unresolved confusion between her brows.

You glanced at her.

“Everything okay?”

Hitomi smiled.

“Mm, it’s fine.”

You thought about it.

Getting to know Hitomi was also necessary.

Come to think of it, he still knew nothing about this gentle Miko older sister.

“If it’s convenient, could you tell me what happened?”

Hitomi’s smile softened.

“Of course. It’s nothing major.”

She picked up her chopsticks and placed a slice of beef into her bowl.

“The Imperial Household Agency Personnel Division just sent me an email. A job transfer.”

She breathed out, as if letting go of some burden.

“I’m relieved. I thought I was going to get fired.”

You froze, chopsticks stopping mid-air.

Wait.

This gentle older sister was actually a civil servant with a permanent position?

That was news to him.

Somewhat surprised, he asked,

“You’re actually a government civil servant, Hitomi? At your age, shouldn’t you still be in college?”

The girls exchanged glances at You’s question.

The meaning in those glances was obvious—we didn’t tell him?

They thought back.

It seemed no one had actually told him.

When Hitomi first mentioned working at the Imperial Household Agency, they had sent You out to buy milk.

And no one brought it up afterward.

The atmosphere grew a bit awkward.

Hitomi cleared her throat lightly, her smile growing softer.

“You-kun, every generation of the Nissho family has someone who holds a fixed position at the Imperial Household Agency. After all, we represent Lady Amaterasu Omikami.”

You suddenly felt a toothache.

Damn it.

A hereditary sinecure, right?

So this is Japan?

The class solidification is insane.

He’d wanted to complain, but then thought again—the girls here were all from prominent families.

Chihaya was the next head of the Mochizuki family, Futaba was the next head of the Tsukuyomi family, Mai was Chihaya’s younger sister, and Hitomi… well, she could perform divine descent, so she was definitely a core member too.

If he criticized “hereditary systems,” they’d probably think he was the strange one instead.

This wasn’t the Celestial Empire.

He swallowed the complaint, forced an awkward smile, and changed the subject.

“So what’s going on with the job transfer?”

Hitomi blushed a little and lowered her head sheepishly.

“Ah, about that…”

Her voice grew quieter.

“You-kun, actually, when we first met, it was because Amaterasu Omikami gave me a temporary divine oracle in a dream. I was rushing from Tokyo to get here, so… I forgot to request leave.”

She paused, her voice even softer.

“And then, with so many things happening these past few days, I never remembered.”

The last few words were almost inaudible, like a mosquito’s whine.

You understood immediately.

This Miss Hitomi had no sense of entitlement as a scion.

She was a responsible, good girl.

That’s why she felt ashamed about not requesting leave.

He couldn’t help but mentally give Hitomi a thumbs-up.

“It’s not really your fault.”

He quickly reassured her.

“It’s Amaterasu Omikami who was too willful.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

Chihaya’s chopsticks froze mid-air.

Futaba stopped waving her fan, and her smile seemed to deepen.

Mai’s little mouth opened wide, her eyes round.

Hitomi’s smile stiffened for a moment, then turned into a helpless “there you go again” expression.

The girls stared at him in shock.

Only then did You realize.

Oh no.

These were all Miko—Miko who served the deities.

Saying that about Amaterasu Omikami… was that too shocking?

Hitomi sighed softly and said gently,

“You-kun, I appreciate you comforting me. But…”

She paused.

“Even if you are the Divine Child of Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto and the nephew of Amaterasu Omikami, it’s not appropriate to speak of Lady Amaterasu like that.”

You gave an awkward laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. That was a slip of the tongue.”

Hitomi noticed that You hadn’t apologized for criticizing Amaterasu but for offending her.

She sighed inwardly again.

‘You-kun, really… but that also shows he’s a gentle person.’

She looked away and continued with the earlier topic.

“So when the Agency’s email came just now, it really startled me.”

She placed her hand over her chest and patted it, as if still shaken.

Her full chest swayed a few times, briefly drawing You’s gaze.

Damn, that gravity was strong.

But fortunately, everyone was listening to Hitomi and no one noticed.

“I thought I’d be fired or something. I never expected a job transfer. And they told me I don’t have to report to work regularly anymore.”

She tilted her head again.

“I can’t figure out what happened.”

You heard this and thought for a moment.

“Hitomi, if I’m not wrong—does the Nissho family have a lot of influence in Kyoto?”

Hitomi nodded.

“Of course. The Nissho family has served Amaterasu Omikami for nearly three thousand years. Naturally, we have great influence in Kyoto.”

She looked at You, wondering why he was asking.

“What are you getting at, You-kun?”

You smiled and said two words.

“Votes.”