Dawn in the office was silent, as it usually was.
But silence did not equate to comfort.
In the stillness, every peripheral noise—the rustle of turning pages, the scratch of a fountain pen, the rhythmic mechanical pulse of the clock—became an intrusion.
The window was half-open.
The air outside was biting, and occasionally, that chill helped to sharpen a clouded mind.
Even that remedy was losing its efficacy lately.
Instead of clarity, the cold brought a tightness to my chest, a catch in my breath.
Two folders lay side-by-side on the desk.
One was a copy of Gaul's formal application for admission into the Federation.
A document I had already signed.
The other was the formal instrument of resignation.
A document I was about to sign.
I stared at the two folders for a long time.
Victory and Conclusion.
Genesis and Exodus.
In truth, they were variations of the same sentence.
Yes. The Federation had been founded, the Federation had fought, and the Federation had emerged victorious.
And I had been elected, I had labored, and I had succeeded.
Now, it was time to conclude my chapter of the story.
I picked up the pen, then set it down again.
My hand was trembling.
It wasn't shaking any more or less than it had yesterday. It was simply the state of things now.
The boundary between my physical self and my bureaucratic duties had blurred long ago.
Memories of maps flashed through my mind—maps I had pored over during sleepless nights throughout the war.
Back then, my mind wasn't feverish. It was strangely cold. Only my grip was hot, white-knuckled with the singular desperate need to ensure everything did not collapse.
Now was much the same.
Except, if I let go now, the Federation would not collapse. That was the core realization.
The system could finally stand on its own.
With the fall of the Gaulish Empire, no single power remained that could threaten us in isolation.
The war was over.
The political obstacles had been cleared, and the machinery of the economy and administration had returned to its proper tracks.
Most importantly, the people had internalized the sense that the Federation would endure. We had moved past the stage where the nation relied on one man's will; the structure itself was now the guarantor of survival.
Therefore… I had no further reason to remain.
Strangely, that lack of purpose didn't feel bitter.
It felt as though I was finally returning to my proper place.
When a nation's achievements become synonymous with a single name, the rot begins. I had smelled that stench too many times before.
Mao Zedong, Stalin, Kim Il-sung, Castro.
So many figures had allowed the cult of personality to erode the very foundations of their nations. I had no intention of following in their footsteps.
—Knock, knock.
The door opened, and a secretary entered, carrying a thin slip of paper.
"Comrade Chairman, I have your morning schedule for confirmation. Also… the final draft of your resignation announcement is ready."
I nodded.
"And the public's reaction?"
The secretary chose his words carefully.
"There are proposals from multiple districts to organize farewell marches and celebrations…"
I cut him off immediately.
"Tell them no."
The secretary's eyes widened for a moment.
"I am finally returning from being the Chairman to being a private citizen. Why would I want to carry such a burden? It would only place a heavy weight on my successor's shoulders."
"Yes, I understand."
He hesitated, then added, "Comrade Chairman… the citizens… they merely wish to express…"
I pressed my lips together and then let out a breath.
"It is good that the citizens are happy. But I do not want them to treat me the way men of old treated kings."
The secretary bowed his head.
His face suggested he had more to say, more persuasions to offer, but he swallowed them after seeing my expression. Everyone did that lately.
The way they looked at me was changing. I was no longer a 'man' to them, but a 'symbol.'
I loathed it.
"Keep the speech brief. Minimize the security detail as well. The more excessive the guard, the more the people will see me as a monarch of this land."
"…Yes. As you wish."
He started to leave, then looked back once more.
"Comrade Chairman… then, today is truly…"
"Yes. Today is the end. I will not change my mind."
I said it so softly that my own voice surprised me. For a moment, I almost laughed.
The laughter didn't come, but my breathing became easier.
The secretary exited, and the room was empty once again.
I pulled the resignation document toward me.
The first sentence below the header:
January 9th, 1030. Notice of Resignation.
After reading those words, I picked up the pen. This time, there was no hesitation.
*************************
The hallways of the Supreme Soviet were a hive of activity from early morning.
The Secretariat distributed notices to every department, while the Security Division adjusted the transit routes.
The Propaganda Bureau quietly moved stacks of farewell posters and celebration drafts to the disposal list.
No one protested loudly, but the atmosphere was thick with complicated emotions.
The Chief of Security addressed his subordinates.
"The citizens will congregate. It is not an assassin's bomb we fear today, but raw emotion. If the masses surge, disasters follow. Our mission is to prevent that at all costs."
"Yes, sir."
At the end of the corridor, an printing clerk looked at the discarded posters with a bittersweet smile.
"Why does he dislike this so much? If it were me, I'd be flattered."
His colleague replied in a low voice.
"Because it's exactly what the Comrade Chairman hates. He views the cult of personality with something bordering on loathing."
"But still…"
"And that's why we must stop it. Today is his resignation ceremony, after all."
The vehicle selected was unassuming. The escort was minimal. There were no flashing sirens.
To an outside observer, it did not look like a 'state function.' It looked like an ordinary commute.
That subtle movement, devoid of vanity, was the true strength of the Federation.
*********************
Red Square was once again packed with people.
Where the roars of wartime victory had once echoed, a new kind of anticipation now lingered.
The faces in the crowd weren't there for a 'Triumph,' but for a 'Conclusion.'
The podium was small. The decorations were sparse.
Flags were numerous, yet none bore the image of a man.
As I stepped up, the sound erupted.
"Glory! Long live the Federation! Long live the Republic!"
"Lead us for ten more years!"
"Vladimir! Comrade Vladimir!"
Cheer after cheer, names being called, cries of 'Hurrah.'
Amidst all that sound directed at me, I raised my hand. I cut through the noise with a single, sharp gesture to command silence.
"Cough. Please, that is enough."
My voice wasn't loud, yet the silence rippled outward from the front rows. The people still accepted my hand gesture as a 'Command.' The weight of that fact was suffocating.
I had to use that very weight to sever something even heavier.
"Comrades."
I scanned the square slowly.
Faces of joy, of regret, of anxiety. Even when a war ends, people feel the need to cling to something. Today, that 'something' was me.
I decided to peel myself away first.
"This victory and the conclusion of the war are not the achievements of a single individual. It is the result of the blood of the International Brigades and the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army, the sweat of the rear-guard workers, and the endurance of millions of nameless souls."
I took a breath before delivering the next line.
"The founding of this nation was the same. In the revolution to establish the Federation, it was the nameless masses who bled, not I. The collective strength of party members and non-partisans, workers and peasants, soldiers and civilians—that was the force that achieved this."
I spread my hands toward the crowd.
"Therefore, I do not wish for my name to be written as the architect of these monumental deeds."
The square fell still.
"The Federation is not the country of one man. The moment it begins to move in the name of one individual, it ceases to be the Federation. This is a state forged through collective responsibility, creativity, cooperation, and fraternity—not the guidance of a single leader."
As I spoke, I heard someone sob in the crowd.
I ignored it. The moment I accepted their pity, my words would falter, and faltering words lead to worship.
"Today, I resign from the post of Chairman of the Supreme Soviet and Chairman of the Central People's Committee."
An uproar broke out.
Someone screamed, "You can't!"
Another yelled, "Why now?!"
I did not wait for the noise to subside.
"The procedures are already in place. My authorities will be transferred to the Vice-Chairmen as stipulated by law. The state will not halt in my absence."
I left it at that. Then, I delivered my final sentence with flat, uncompromising finality.
"I am going now, to take my rest."
The moment I said it, my throat strangely cleared. Was it always such a difficult thing to say?
Someone from below the podium called out my name again.
"But Comrade Vladimir!"
I shook my head.
"Do not chant my name. Chant for the Federation."
With that, I stepped down from the podium.
In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a Feline with pale green hair. I offered a faint smile but pretended not to see her.
***************************
The lake was tranquil.
When the breeze blew, the water rippled slightly—a subtle movement, far better than the exaggerated fluttering of flags.
I entered the cottage. The interior was modest, devoid of any unnecessary ornamentation.
Tea and bread had been prepared on the table.
I sat in a comfortable wooden chair.
I didn't open a single document.
I lifted the teacup. My hand did not tremble.
Quietly sipping the tea, I watched the world outside the window. The ripples moved, the leaves swayed, the sky drifted.
No one called for me.
At least for this moment.
I thought it might feel hollow, but it didn't.
This was much more comfortable.
I tore a piece of bread and ate it. It tasted ordinary.
Ordinary was good.
And then, a laugh escaped me involuntarily. It wasn't a loud laugh, nor was it meant for anyone to see.
It was a soft sound, like a tired sigh.
"Yes. That's enough."
Let us rest.
Until I find my heat once again.
A warm spring breeze blew in through the window, wrapping around me.
************************
In this map, the territory surrounded by red (excluding Sami) is the territory of the Federation.
========================
The website for reading paid chapters is available on my Patreon. The number of chapters on Patreon: 137
Link: patreon.com/UltraMagnus_T