ARML 01

Chapter 1

When is an office worker the happiest?

Is it when they save up their precious 15 days of vacation and go on a trip?

Or when they get a tiny bonus and have to shout, “For the eternal glory of the Empire and our proud department!”?

‘Pfft. Nope. None of those.’

The real answer is: when you quit your job.

“I’m finally handing in… my resignation letter…!”

I grinned as I looked at the beautifully written resignation, all formatted in the official ‘Arpelt Imperial Palace Style.’

‘I’ve been waiting for this day.’

I’m Layla Lowell, the lowest-ranking office worker in this fantasy novel world.

I’ve worked for a year in the toughest department of the Imperial Palace—

“Black Magic Recovery and Suppression Division,”

also known as the “Black Spoon Unit.”

I’ve saved up enough money to swim in gold coins.

I’ve twisted the original storyline of this world, saved people who were supposed to die, and resolved the final incident.

‘There’s no reason to stay here any longer!’

I’m leaving for the land of happiness! Throwing off the chains and burdens of this world!

But before I can take my first step, I have to give this resignation to my supervisor… who also happens to be the original male lead of the story.

‘Ugh, I’m a little nervous.’

My steps felt heavy as I walked toward his desk.

Maybe it’s a bit sad now that I’m actually leaving.

Like the Minister (who was the villain in the original story), who always smiled and told me to speak freely.

And my friend from the magic tower, who has zero social skills and dresses like a punk (he was a sub-male character in the original story).

And finally…

“Is something wrong, Lowell?”

The one who greeted me—my workaholic supervisor and the Duke’s heir from the north (original male lead).

‘Maybe I got used to working with him. Even if he was a jerk sometimes…’

I looked at him with complicated feelings.

Jet-black hair, red eyes—clearly marked as “I’m the male lead.”

His sculpted face, cold beauty, and perfectly fitting black suit.

But to me?

‘He was just another overworked civil servant, like me.’

I avoided looking at the dark circles under his eyes and politely handed him my resignation.

“Senior Carlyle, I have something to tell you.”

“Why so formal all of a sudden? Your reports are always perfec—”

But when he looked down at the paper I handed over, he froze.

“Lowell, this is…?”

“Yep. As you can see, I’m resigning, sir.”

“…What?”

“I wanted to talk to you first, then speak with the Minister. Now that the Black Spoon Unit has achieved its goals, I don’t think I need to stay.”

“Lowell…”

I spoke clearly, just like I prepared. Silence fell.

‘Yeah, I guess it’s a shock.’

When a junior says they’re quitting, the senior usually panics and tries to stop them.

But then his eyes suddenly lit up—

Wait, why did they light up?

“I’ve been waiting for this day too, Lowell.”

“…?”

Excuse me, what?

I almost shouted. I had to force my jaw shut.

‘He was waiting for me to quit?’

Sure, I always complained about quitting, but hearing it from him? That kinda… hurt.

‘Wow, that stings a little.’

Still, I kept a straight face.

This is work. Can’t expect too much from work relationships.

‘That’s fine. Don’t call me, I won’t call you either.’

I’m finally free! I’m quitting this cursed fantasy world job too!

“Layla Lowell.”

“Uh, yes?”

Wait… has he ever called me “Layla” before?

“You’re the perfect junior.”

“Ah… thank you?”

“Every time I saw you, I was so touched my heart would race. I thought I’d get a heart attack. There’s no one like you—so responsible, so perfect.”

“Um… thanks?”

“But now I know this isn’t an illness.”

Then, the male lead, Carlyle Ruphesk, turned red and said loudly:

“Please date me.”

“…What?”

On the day I was finally quitting the fantasy novel world…

“I want to be someone who just casually texts you on weekends now.”

My supervisor confessed to me.

“But, sir…”

I barely moved my lips.

“Aren’t we… already living in the same house?”

* * *

About a year ago, on a beautiful spring day—

“Oh no…”

I looked up at the shiny golden palace gates and cursed quietly.

‘Is that why the novel was called Beyond the Golden Gate? Because of the gate color?’

What kind of title is that for a work commute?

Just earlier, I had remembered my past life in another world.

‘Was I also an office worker back then?’

Yes, and one who loved office romance stories.

I was completely hooked on a fantasy office-romance novel called Beyond the Golden Gate.

[It’s so mild, super easy to read!]

The romance moved ridiculously slowly. I probably was the only one reading it.

But still, I loved it.

My old job? Felt like a fake family business. Total hell.

I needed that novel just to survive the stress.

[Next meeting is Monday at 9 AM. Assistant Manager Lee, you’ll handle it!]

[Why aren’t young people creative anymore? It’s because they have no ownership! Take responsibility!]

While I was stuck as a “Sorry-bot” at work…

‘I died the day I got my severance pay. Great.’

Drunk drivers always get light sentences, so people like me suffer.

And all those memories came flooding back on my first day at the Imperial Palace as part of the 218th batch of bureaucrats.

I, Layla Lowell, beat 1,500 other people to get here… and realized I was now living inside Beyond the Golden Gate.

But…

“This life is kind of a mess too.”

At 20, I was an orphan.

I didn’t know who my parents were and I was a commoner—the lowest class in this fantasy world.

Even worse, when I looked in the mirror, my pink eyes didn’t shine. They looked dull.

I had platinum blonde hair and a decent face, so what was wrong?

‘Maybe my worn-out office worker soul is showing.’

Tap, tap.

Someone gently tapped my shoulder.

“Hey, hello?”

“Huh? Oh!”

“We’re in the same batch, right?”

Her voice was like falling flower petals.

Pink hair. Blue eyes.

A glowing beauty even in a fantasy world full of beautiful people.

“Yeah, are you… Yuliana Crosswell?”

“Eek! You know my name?”

“Of course. You’re the top-ranked student.”

And, well, she had a name tag.

In the story, Yuliana was the cheerful and kind female lead.

Just like now—she even approached someone as spaced out as me.

Yuliana smiled brightly.

“You looked about my age, so I wanted to say hi. Maybe we’ll be in the same trainee group!”

“….”

At that, I quietly pulled out the official acceptance letter:

<You will go through a 3-month training course.

You’ll rotate through departments and choose one to apply to.

Your final placement will be based on performance evaluations.>

PTSD hit me again.

I was an assistant manager before I quit my last job, and now what?

‘A trainee again?’

I have to go through the intern phase again just to become full-time?

“Let’s work hard togeth—Wait, are you crying?”

“Sniff…”

“Aww, you must’ve had such a hard time! You worked so hard, didn’t you?”

No, Yuliana…

These are the tears of someone who just fell to the bottom of the workplace food chain.

Even as tears streamed down, my brain was cold and clear.

‘I’m living in an orphanage now, but that can’t last forever.’

I hate working… but I love money.

‘It’s awful starting from the bottom again, but…’

Okay, fine.

Time to accept reality.

But if I have to start over in this office world, then I’m going to do one thing for sure:

I will get into the easiest, cushiest department.

No matter what.