"So, are you saying I forced them to arrive late and leave early? That their professional skills are lacking, they can’t hold a simple conversation, and they can’t even pass such a simple listening test, all because of me?"

"Am I to blame for their downfall? Or did they do it to themselves?"

"Search your hearts. Since joining this department, how much time have any of you actually spent improving yourselves and honing your skills?"

"Every single one of you thought that once you got a government job, an ’iron rice bowl,’ you could stop improving your professional skills. You thought you could just coast until retirement."

"The way you all are, even if no one had reported you, you would’ve been exposed sooner or later. The moment a supervisor decided to do a spot check, or an actual task required your skills, your cover would’ve been blown."

"Isn’t it better to be dismissed now than to face that humiliation later? At least this way, you can salvage a little bit of your dignity, can’t you?"

"I’ve said it before: I’m just here to learn. It’s not even certain if I’ll join the Ministry of Diplomacy after I graduate. You really didn’t need to target me."

"But instead of focusing on improving your own abilities, you decided to play these little games and schemes with me, wasting your cunning on your own colleagues. Frankly, you deserved to be fired. You have no one to blame but yourselves."

"Especially you, Sharon Lloyd. You should really think about it. If you hadn’t stirred everyone up from the very beginning, turning them against me and making them target me, would they have been fired?"

"You’re the truly vicious one. You’re the real ringleader."

With just a few simple words, Grace Winslow managed to completely clear her name.

People are selfish by nature.

Previously, Sharon Lloyd had preyed on everyone’s desire for a promotion, uniting them against Grace Winslow.

Now that Grace Winslow had shattered her plot, the blame shifted squarely onto her.

A dark look crossed Sharon Lloyd’s face.

’This Grace Winslow is so damn sharp-tongued. How can she be so good with words?’

"Stop trying to drive a wedge between us!" Sharon Lloyd snapped, her face dark.

"So many people were dismissed, yet you’ve managed to hold on to your position just fine. Do you think that’s fair? Your professional skills don’t seem particularly impressive, but you’re certainly skilled at scheming against your colleagues. Perhaps you should request a transfer. The Ministry of Diplomacy really doesn’t seem like the right place for you," Grace Winslow said with a smile, her attitude as nonchalant as ever.

Just as Sharon Lloyd was about to fly into a rage, Samuel Ford opened his door and stepped out.

"What is all this commotion? Is this a workplace or not? Sharon Lloyd, are you trying to get yourself fired too?"

Samuel Ford’s words were enough to silence Sharon Lloyd.

’I can’t lose this job. If I lose this job, my status at home will plummet. I won’t have any say in anything.’

’There’s no way I’m staying home and becoming a haggard housewife.’

Once everyone had fallen silent, Samuel Ford cleared his throat and solemnly announced, "I have a few things to say."

"First, regarding Grace Winslow’s internship. She is the most promising student from Crestwood University’s Foreign Languages department this year. A senior leader finds her very bright and wants to nurture her talent, which is why she was assigned to our department to learn over the summer."

"Second, regarding the rumors circulating about Grace Winslow, I will launch an investigation to find out who is maliciously spreading them. We will not tolerate anyone who undermines the unity of our team!"

"And third, regarding the recent dismissals. No one reported you. The Minister happened to arrive early today, only to find himself locked out. He had to wait until after eight-thirty for someone to finally stroll in and open the door. Hmph. Did you all really think your actions were so flawless that no one would ever know?"

"Do you really need someone to report you? Any supervisor could see your true colors just by showing up a few minutes early."

When Samuel Ford finished, he gave everyone a cold, sweeping glare before turning and heading back into his office.

The room instantly erupted in a flurry of whispers and arguments.

At first, they discussed what Samuel Ford had said, but it quickly devolved into an argument over who, exactly, was responsible for opening the door.

Before long, the blame was once again heaped on Sharon Lloyd.

This time, Sharon Lloyd had managed to alienate everyone completely.

At lunchtime, a few people even approached Grace Winslow to ask if she wanted to eat with them. Meanwhile, everyone else completely ostracized Sharon Lloyd, ignoring her completely.

Sharon Lloyd was furious, but she was helpless to do anything about it.

Grace Winslow politely declined the invitations from her colleagues and went to the cafeteria by herself.

She’d noticed at lunch the day before that the food here, while decent, was too bland for her preference for bold flavors. So today, she’d specifically asked Irene Lynch to make a jar of beef sauce for her to mix with her rice.

The moment she opened the jar, a rich, savory aroma filled the air. People nearby sniffed and turned to look. Their mouths practically watered as their eyes landed on the jar of beef sauce in Grace Winslow’s hands.

"Grace Winslow, where did you buy that sauce? Could you give me the address? I’d love to buy some after work," someone asked, mustering up the courage to approach her.

Grace Winslow paused, surprised that someone would ask. After a moment’s thought, she answered honestly, "It’s not from a store. My mom made it herself, so I don’t think you can buy it anywhere."

"But if you’re really interested, I could ask my mom to make extra. She runs a pastry shop on Mornside Street, and she could probably sell it there."

"Really? In that case, I’ll definitely go buy some!" the colleague who had asked replied, his face lighting up.

Grace Winslow even gave him a small spoonful to try.

That broke the ice, and others, emboldened, shamelessly came over to ask for a taste.

Before long, half the jar of beef sauce was gone.

Grace Winslow quickly tucked the jar back into her bag.

After work, Grace Winslow went home and told Irene Lynch what had happened.

Irene Lynch couldn’t help but find it amusing. "The sauce isn’t that much trouble to make. You want me to sell it? I could just make some and give it away for free to customers who like it—a little chili or mushroom sauce on the side when they buy pastries."

"Mom, I really think it has market potential. Just put it up for sale. Maybe a dollar or two a jar. You can charge a little more for the ones with meat and less for the vegetarian ones. You might be surprised how well it sells."

’After all, she remembered a certain chili sauce from the future that became a massive hit, even getting exported overseas.’

’If Irene Lynch could manage mass production, who’s to say she couldn’t replicate that success story?’

’Theoretically, that famous sauce maker was probably already in business, she just wasn’t a household name yet.’

"Alright, I’ll do as you say. I recently hired a couple of apprentices, and it’s definitely taken a lot of pressure off me. They’ve both gotten the hang of things now, so I’m thinking of putting them on a salary. What do you think would be a fair amount?" Irene Lynch agreed, then lowered her voice to ask Grace.

Grace Winslow thought for a moment. "How about a base salary of forty? If they have perfect attendance for a month, add an extra five. And if the shop does well, you can give them a bonus—anywhere from five to twenty, depending on business."

Irene Lynch thought it was a great idea and immediately grabbed a pen and paper to jot it down.

That very night, she began simmering the meat sauce. The process was no small affair—the incredible aroma soon wafted out, alerting every neighbor on her left and right.