Reincarnated as Nikolai II-Chapter 265: If You Want to Be Tall, Break Someone Else’s Shins (7)

"Gulp, sigh."

Normally, a light beer would be the limit given to him, but on this day, Jugashvili had high-proof rum in his hand.

It was still early evening before the sun had fully set.

As lanterns lit up the darkening streets, the world appeared beautifully blue.

However, Jugashvili’s face was already not just red but even dark.

Whether it was due to his worries or simply because he had drunk too much, no one could tell.

"Drink in moderation. Give me a glass too. Polugar."

"Are you drinking 40-degree alcohol at this hour?"

"Then why are you guzzling rum by the bottle?"

"Ugh... Haah."

Whatever the case, the process of his glass being emptied and refilled didn’t change even when another person was added beside him.

"You’ve become Chairman of the Privy Council."

"Since real power comes with becoming Chairman of the State Council, the glossy-looking Privy Council Chairman is appropriate. There’s no power, the institution itself is just an advisory body, and there’s no friction with the Duma or cabinet."

In the 18th and 19th centuries, the Privy Council might have been the center of power in monarchies, but once the Prime Minister system or parliamentary system emerged, they became anachronistic institutions, mere shells.

"You should rather run for the Duma. Or with such deep friendship with the Tsar, go to the Imperial Court."

"Enough. At my age, not knowing when I’ll die, what’s the point of taking such a weighty position? I should enjoy my later years."

"True... Come to think of it, you were also a nobleman, Prime Minister."

Count Kokovtsov’s family.

A prestigious family that had produced numerous talents for the empire, including provincial councilors, judges, soldiers, writers, engineers, and university professors from ancient times.

Kokovtsov couldn’t deny having benefited from this family.

In the past, the empire was a firm class society, and he was a talent who received Russia’s highest education.

From comments that normally wouldn’t cross boundaries to sarcastic tones. At this moment, Jugashvili was immersed in alcohol and despair, so he couldn’t see straight.

"Yes, I’m from the Kokovtsov family that shared the early days of the Romanov dynasty."

"Oh, is that so? I’m also from a family with a certain pedigree. My father was a cobbler, and my mother was a seamstress."

"A drunkard who beat his family whenever he drank. You must have had limited education from a young age. Even your face looks like that because you couldn’t even get a smallpox vaccination?"

"Now! ...Sigh, no."

Despite his self-deprecating complaints, when his pockmarks and age spots were even touched upon, he didn’t have the energy to get angry.

It’s true. He was uneducated and came from a church elementary school, not higher education.

His father was a bastard, his mother was a stupid victim, and his siblings had no hope.

Himself? Even Joseph himself was just an arrogant kid who wrote some poetry or essays.

But now, that kid had risen to become the Minister of Industry for the empire.

"Are you trying to mock the one you tried to raise when he became useless?"

The one who raised that kind of person to minister was none other than Kokovtsov.

"Stolypin, now that man will butcher me and the Labor Party. Yes, now the era of the Conservative Party will come. But don’t resent me. Stolypin has been flying and running among first-generation officials since his youth. Damn it, how can I win?"

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"Well, the evaluation criteria were a bit different. He was someone who caught the eye enough for His Majesty to personally select him."

Stolypin’s joining was exactly during the land reform period. It was a time when purges were also actively ongoing.

An official who rose from that era can’t be defeated by someone who belatedly started racing around talking about economic development or industrialization.

This is like a farmer who wants to properly grow crops on the foundation cannot defeat the person who built that foundation of the empire.

The eras are different, the levels are different.

Suddenly, Joseph felt wronged.

Personally selected by the Tsar,

Enjoying the glory of Witte’s era,

Now holding power continuously as Finance Minister during Kokovtsov’s time,

Then becoming Prime Minister?

’Compete with such a person for the Prime Minister position?’

Isn’t Kokovtsov going too far? Even if the world tilts, it can’t tilt this much toward Stolypin.

"...Come to think of it, Prime Minister Stolypin is a hero of the Crimean War from his ancestors. My dad was busy beating my mother and siblings every day while drunk."

"The current Prime Minister’s father is General Arkady."

"With a noble family preserving that so-called long tradition, while I was just learning theology, he mastered physics, mathematics, natural sciences, and even agriculture."

"He is knowledgeable."

"When he got married, they say his bride brought hundreds or thousands of acres of golden land as a dowry."

"His wife is also nobility."

"...My wife Svanidze died of illness. Without even receiving proper treatment."

Now Joseph revealed his utterly filthy inner thoughts in front of his mentor who had guided and raised him.

Nevertheless, Kokovtsov just nodded along and downed glasses together.

Whether that provided comfort, Joseph felt some inexplicable relief while comparing himself with Stolypin for quite some time.

"So, are you going to just drink alcohol and go home to return to being a kid again? Back to the days when you couldn’t even resist when beaten?"

However, all of Joseph’s outpourings were restored to their original state by one sentence from Kokovtsov.

"...That’s harsh. No matter how much liquor I poured down my throat, my ears are still open."

"A person like that has to go to work tomorrow but is here drinking? Instead of that, speak your complaints a bit more truthfully. Ah, I am a loser who has been pushed out from politics and from the competition for official positions. After losing all my life, I’ve become accustomed to it and am choosing the most comfortable option: giving up."

"...Chairman."

"My eldest son is also a loser, so he even attempted suicide recently. All of this is because he’s not a nobleman."

"Vladimir!"

"Why, do you have more excuses? What else would you pull out now? You’ve done family, you’ve done status, ah. Is the Tsar’s favor left? He was directly chosen by the Tsar?"

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The warm and musty smell of alcohol between the two disappears.