Reincarnated as Nikolai II

"Mmm..."

As heavy eyelids finally yield to time and open, the light coming through the window gives a rough indication of the time.

"It’s late morning."

Who was it that said the elderly lose their sleep? Those young sprouts, barely sixty, often say such things, but Bunge couldn’t agree.

When you truly get old - that is, when it becomes difficult to find someone older than yourself on the street - even opening your eyes after closing them becomes a struggle.

And then comes the day when you never open them again.

Bunge lightly left his bedroom and put a piece of bread and coffee that the servant had brought into his mouth.

It wasn’t particularly tasty.

For an elderly person who had become insensitive, both sleep and food were merely acts of survival.

After breakfast, Bunge had to prepare for work immediately.

He combed his few remaining hairs neatly to the left side, sticking them down, and trimmed his beard.

After a simple face wash and putting on a white shirt and black suit, he was done. Now he was ready to work.

Taking a cane and leaving the house, secretaries carrying armfuls of documents were waiting for him.

"The main schedule?"

"Officials will gather by 10 AM. As you requested, we’ve cleared the entire afternoon. There’s one matter requiring urgent approval, and there was a fire incident early yesterday morning that was smoothly extinguished."

"Good. Make sure you personally verify and report on the fire incident’s aftermath. Did the approval come from the Governor-General’s office?"

"Yes, it did."

"We’ll look at it later."

As work talk began, the old man’s previously dull eyes regained their sharp gleam.

Even in the carriage.

Even between getting off the carriage and going to work.

And even at the moment of walking to his workplace, Bunge’s time was not wasted.

Wasn’t he at an age where dying of a heart attack tonight wouldn’t be strange? Having faced his destiny at too late an age, every day was now precious to him.

He had barely sat down and looked at some documents when his secretary lingered beside him.

"What is it?"

"Chairman, it’s time."

"Is it 10 already?"

Looking at the clock, the deceptive flow of time feels spiteful.

Bunge headed to the conference room prepared on the first floor, leaning on his cane.

"The Chairman is entering."

When the door opened, despite it being prime working hours, the officials had already filled their seats.

Bunge sat in the central seat. Only then did everyone else take their seats one by one.

"I called you all here today despite knowing you’re busy because I have something important to say. So, did everyone sleep well? It’s not easy coming to work in the morning, is it?"

"Haha, what could be difficult for us young ones?"

"How could a salaried official complain?"

As Bunge started the meeting with light conversation, everyone laughed and responded in turn.

"Yes, this is the life of an official. Living on pride in serving the country while receiving regular pay."

For a brief moment, Bunge reflected on this life of an official - more precisely, the life he had lived as an official.

This wasn’t one of his countless self-reproaches. He was simply talking about the ordinary life that a typical official dreams of.

Coming to work in the morning, going home in the evening. Creating and supporting a family, watching children grow up and become independent, achieving self-realization by associating oneself with organizational achievements and development.

That would have been the future and predetermined framework for the human figures gathered here.

"I don’t know about you all, but this morning when I opened my eyes..."

Bunge stood up from his seat again.

And continued in a majestic voice.

"I didn’t just rub my sleepy eyes and wake up. I opened my eyes as Nikolai Bunge, the great chairman responsible for all affairs in the Far East."

However, the life Bunge had lived was not that of an ordinary official.

It was a continuous series of being tested and proving himself. One misstep meant an immediate fall into the abyss.

"When I put on my suit and came to work this morning, I didn’t just drape a suit over this old wrinkled skin. Oh, I couldn’t do that."

Though he tried to ignore it, many had laughed at and tried to stop Bunge’s final journey to the Far East.

They said not to do such undignified things now. Asked if he had no honor to protect.

"Nikolai, Christianovich, Bunge - the name my parents gave me. This pen that records this name. When I take this pen to sign, I don’t hastily scribble my name. I engrave, one by one, my name being recorded at the empire’s edge."

Only Bunge’s voice echoed in the room that had been light just moments ago.

When he paused briefly, everywhere was quiet, but no one felt Bunge’s speech was quiet.

"You all working as officials in this godforsaken wilderness have various reasons. Some led by sentiment. Some through connections as my former students. Others driven by desire for recognition and ambition to succeed as officials. Just like when I first became an official."

Bunge already knew well that his body would never return to European soil.

Even by railway, the journey would be too harsh for an old man who could barely support his own body.

Above all, Bunge had an inexplicable certainty - that he would die the moment he left this Far East.

"There must be as many reasons as there are people filling this cramped conference room. But I ask again at this moment - is that really all? Isn’t something stirring in your chests?"

Bunge pointed his finger as if stabbing each person’s chest.

"What? You think that since you educated fellows have finally become officials, you can just eat government money and work at a lifetime job? That it’s a successful life because unlike the workers protesting in the square, you won’t get fired? Ha! Don’t make me laugh!"

Though he spoke with angry shouts, these were also words to his past self.

"If you’re filling these seats with such complacent and weak mindsets, get out right now! I’ll calculate all the money you’d receive until my retirement and stuff it in your mouths!"

Everyone in the conference room was overwhelmed by Chairman Bunge, unable to even make breathing sounds.