The instant the last rep was out of the room, Kenox closed the door behind them and hurried over to the closet, unlocking it and yanking open the door with a deep frown.

Callimud was still there, curled up on the closet floor, but his beady eyes were open and glaring up at Kenox with an indescribable amount of hatred. The man thrashed indignantly on the floor of the closet, and Kenox could now hear the barest dull thumps his body made as he moved.

“Have you been struggling this whole time?” Kenox asked in shock, peering more closely at the closet. Now that he was looking at it, it was clear that the wood making it up was just as thick as the wood used for the tables and chairs in the rest of the room. Maybe too thick for a strangled voice to get through, especially if it wanted to be heard over a heated finance conversation.

But even so, how were the man’s bodily movements being so muffled? The closet must have been insulated or something so that the sounds of his thumping body didn’t make any noise.

“This is a great closet.” Kenox couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he looked down at Callimud, the indignant man’s face red as he glared furiously at Kenox. “Sorry to keep you in here for so long, though.”

Kenox finally bent down and peered into the man’s face, thinking carefully at the large man thrashed about in the closet, his muffled screams more obvious now with the closet door open.

Could he trust the man not to ruin everything after letting him out? He would need to in order to have this financial plan delivered to the head of the country, whoever it was. But Callimud honestly looked like he was more focused on the idea of thrashing “Terence” to death for doing this to him than supporting the wellbeing of his country.

“Were you listening to my speech at all?” Kenox frowned in displeasure, tilting his head at the struggling man. “Come on, I made you look great.”

Those words only increased the man’s struggles, the screaming financial head even trying to kick Kenox in the head, but remaining unsuccessful thanks to the cramped closet which blocked the attempt.

“Look.” Kenox glared at the man in annoyance, dark eyes pinning the man in place. “I want this financial plan to go through. It has the backing of all of your country’s top advisors. If it works, it’ll revitalize Cannesia to incredible levels. You’ll be considered a hero for coming up with it.”

Callimud seemed to settle a little at the mention of hero, eying Kenox with complete suspicion, and a trickle of hope.

“I’m serious.” Kenox urged, nodding at the man encouragingly. “You’ll be credited as the inventor of the cold war plan. Which, if you were listening at all while I was talking, is a pretty great plan for this country.”

Callimud huffed a little at that, looking away from Kenox spitefully.

From that, Kenox guessed that the man had been listening in on the conversation, and just didn’t want to admit that a servant had come up with the plan and done so much better than he could’ve.

“Great, I’m glad you know all the details of it.” Kenox smiled at the man’s back, deciding to pour on the flattery for now as he stared at Callimud’s naked shoulders. “Because I think you’re definitely the man who has to run it for it to be a success.”

Callimud paused at that, slowly peeking over his shoulder at Kenox.

“I’m being honest.” Kenox insisted, looking at Callimud with the same wide, innocent eyes he’d used before when dusting. “Myronne Callimud is the head of palace finance. The leader of this country will only listen to you when it comes to financial matters. You’re probably the one person that’s kept all those financial advisors from enacting their slavery plan much earlier on, too. You need to be around to keep them in line and report to the palace heads.”

Kenox placed a hand on Callimud’s shoulder, looking intently into his eyes. “You’re the bridge that connects finance with politics in this country.” He said firmly. “Callimud, no one but you can properly communicate the financial needs of this country, present the plan for them to palace leadership, and keep everyone on the same page without losing your head.”

Kenox knew this much was true from the brief ramblings he’d heard from Callimud earlier. Although his crass, unruly personality didn’t seem to suggest it, and his intense anxiety of other people certainly didn’t help, Callimud was a level-headed financial officer.

He’d analyzed the situations that the financial reps had been bombarding him with, at a time when the country was paralyzed with financial crisis. No doubt, the palace heads had been pressuring him to come up with a solution while balancing the finances to maintain the luxury of the upper classes. Given a tempting solution to sell those who weren’t protected by his paycheck out to slavery, Callimud had still refused the offer, balancing country finances in its precarious state despite all insistence to do otherwise.

He didn’t jump on desperate trains for quick financial success. He thought things through, and somewhere deep inside, he probably had a compassionate streak in him, too. One that abhorred such things as slavery – even if he liked to scream some pretty passionate insults at his servants.

Callimud was a good man to run Kenox’s plan. Kenox just needed to convince him to do so.

“Please, Master Callimud.” Kenox continued, getting on his knees and bowing to the tied up man in the closet. “The country needs you to run this plan and keep it going with a cool head. You have to save Cannesia.”

Things were silent for a while as Kenox kept his head bowed, heart pounding in his chest as he waited for a response.

If Callimud still didn’t want to go forward with the plan, Kenox would have to ensure its success in more violent ways. The man was still tied up in the closet and Kenox had regained his earlier strength after sitting in a chair for hours on end. Callimud could be easily removed from the picture in that case, and the plan presented to the palace heads through his replacement.

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Kenox would need to escape immediately and find some kind of disguise or alibi for Terence in that case, though, and it would be infinitely harder to monitor and manipulate palace events from a fugitive’s lens. And who even knew if the replacement finance head would be on board with the plan or if the palace even had a replacement in mind.

In reality, the best-case scenario was literally for Callimud to agree to support a plan that had been presented in his stead by a servant who’d strangled him and locked him in a closet for three hours.

It…was less than ideal. But hopefully, it would work.

Eventually, Kenox heard a shifting sound above him, and his head tilted up to meet Callimud’s piggish gaze.

The red had all but faded from the wrinkled, heavy-set face, and the man was now looking at Kenox with clear, almost understanding eyes.

He moved his head around slightly, as if gesturing to the gag between his teeth since his hands were still tied up behind him with the golden chain.

It was risky to ungag the man, especially if he called for help, but Kenox could only hope for the best at this point.

“Yes, Master Callimud.” He said immediately, reaching over and untying the gag from around the man’s mouth.

Callimud immediately began to cough a bit, some of the dust particles catching with the saliva in his throat as he hacked them out onto the closet floor. His worked his jaw around for a bit, considering Kenox with careful eyes as he got used to the feeling of vocal freedom again.

“Terence,” Callimud finally said, directing those beady eyes on Kenox with an intensity Kenox hadn’t expected from the man. “Are you certain this plan will work?”

“Absolutely.” Kenox said immediately, very aware of the thick stack of paper sitting on the conference table behind him. “And while I admit it’s immoral to start a war where there needn’t be one, it’s the surest way to kickstart Cannesia from a familiar economic standpoint into a new one where it can flourish. It’s a second chance for our country.”

Politics always came with gray lines of immorality. More often than naught, it was a choice between lesser evils that directed the major actions which would sweep a country off its feet. Callimud would be aware of that. It was really just up to his personal beliefs as to whether slavery or a cold war was the worse evil.

After a few seconds of staring, in which neither Kenox nor Callimud looked away, Kenox got his answer as to Callimud’s beliefs.

“You stay far, far away from me from now on.” The man grunted, slowly sitting up in the closet. “Unless I ask for your opinion on this plan of yours. I want you to keep your filthy servant head down as if this never happened, so that I can forget you even exist.”

Kenox nodded eagerly, heart pounding as he sensed the coming concession. “Of course, Master Callimud.” He agreed, eying the glaring man.

Callimud looked away from Kenox and down at his own legs for a bit, bent and cramped as they were within the closet.

“…I’ll run your plan.” He finally said, shooting Kenox another glare. “If you untie me now and give all my clothes back.”

“Thank you, Master Callimud!” Kenox gushed, immediately reaching behind the man and unwrapping the golden chain from his wrists. As Callimud snatched up the golden chain and began to rub his wrists to get the feeling back in them, Kenox quickly stripped out of the expensive clothes coating his body, revealing the dirty servant rags beneath them.

Callimud crept out of the closet and stretched for a bit, slipping back into his clothes and clipping the golden chain back where it belonged with a huff.

Kenox stepped back from the man, bowing respectfully, and Callimud eyed him warily, evidently still not his biggest fan.

“What are you still doing here, runt?!” Callimud suddenly screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Kenox’s head. “The meeting is over, so scram! You’ll be cleaning filth in all the dirtiest rooms I can think of for the next five months! And I better not see you take a step out of the muck or so help me, I’ll have you beheaded!”

“Yes, Master Callimud!” Kenox cried immediately, running towards the exit and hastily leaving the room. He finally found himself in a stone hallway, glancing briefly at the various servants wandering by, before ducking behind a crate just beside the conference room door.

He stayed crouched behind the musky crate, taking in the scent of mildew and old wood as water seeped over his toes from the edges of the gritty, stone hallway. Rain must leak into the castle every now and then. No proper insulation or roofing. It seemed like this world was a pretty medieval society.

As Kenox examined the crudely carved stone around him, and peered at the ragged tunics of the people wandering by, that idea only became more solidified in his mind. There was a single window in the long hallway, one slotted with iron bars instead of glass panes, and through it Kenox could see the cobblestone streets and flimsy wooden houses of a medieval city.

Eesh. It was a good thing Kenox hadn’t tried to use stories about missile crises or nuclear stalemates to drive home his point about a cold war. Nothing from his speech would’ve stuck with this people if he had.

Eventually, Callimud stumbled out of the conference room, drawing Kenox’s attention quickly to the financial head he was depending on. Kenox could see the stack of paper in Callimud’s hands with the cold war proposal drawn up, and when Callimud flipped it over, he could also see a new signature scrawled over his ragged line at the end.

The real Callimud’s signature.

Kenox felt a grin spread over his face despite himself, his eyes eagerly watching the man clear his throat and then begin striding purposefully down the hall, shouting for a servant to alert the king and queen that he needed an immediate audience with them.

There was no way Kenox was going to risk busting in on that meeting. He could only trust that Callimud would present the plan well and get it rolling.

But once the plan was rolling…

Kenox turned around and leaned back against the crate with a satisfied sigh, smiling up at the stone roof above him. He watched some water leak through a hole in it, dripping heavily into the puddle beside his dirty toes.

He was doomed to spend the next few months living out some disgusting, medieval cleaning jobs, he knew that for sure. But the plan would start revitalizing the country, and Kenox wouldn’t even lose his head for strangling and impersonating a royal officer.

He could try to bolster things from the shadows and run away from the castle, but he felt pretty confident in Callimud and the other advisors’ abilities. This plan, their plan, was going to succeed.

And he’d set it up within a day.

Kenox closed his eyes, humming contentedly to himself as the water dripped beside him.

A crinkling sound began to fill his ears, the whining of electricity that certainly didn’t belong in a medieval era. A smile danced over his lips as he opened his eyes to watch the world crumbling away to white, stones and dirt and servants peeling away into a blank void as a tingling sensation filled his body.

All of a sudden, there seemed to be a great flash of white light, one that completely blinded Kenox in a single instant.

A message in black text appeared in his whited-out vision, bold and satisfying.

[END OF REFORMATIVE MACROECONOMICS, SECOND-YEAR EXAMINATION, UNIT SIX. YOUR SIMULATION IN THE COUNTRY CANNESIA IS COMPLETE. WELL DONE.]

Well done, indeed.

Beat that, Hidari.

Kenox barely had time to think that before the white completely overtook him once more and he melted into the satisfaction of the moment.