Ch.106Episode 6 – The Omniscient Spy’s Perspective

This world had so many problems.

While democratic nations and monarchies dividing the world in half and engaging in a cold war was a problem, when you looked deeper, there were even more mind-boggling issues.

The Empire was at war with demon-kind. Just like the 1960s demilitarized zone, they had military units stationed along the border. Whenever things quieted down, they exchanged armed spies and artillery shells.

The Church was waging war against heretics, cults, and demon-kind. Like the war on drugs, the war on crime, or the war on terror, they were pouring money, time, and manpower into battlefields with no clear front lines.

In reality, it was just an excuse to crush those who opposed the Church, but according to occasional reports, they were also eliminating demon-kind, pagans, cultists, magical terrorist organizations, and non-human terrorist groups.

The Lushan Federal Kingdom was struggling with numerous refugees coming from Mauritania. They were fighting against terrorists, rebels, demon-kind, non-humans, drug criminals, political prisoners, and pagans who had infiltrated among the refugees.

Because of this issue, they sometimes conducted joint operations with the Church despite their religious differences, but frequent political and diplomatic problems arose due to differences in beliefs.

Beyond these, countless nations and races across the continent, as well as many countries across the sea, were grappling with their own problems. Mainly political, diplomatic, economic, and military issues. Some countries were even on the brink of collapse or national bankruptcy.

In short, it was a world without romance.

Maybe that’s what dark fantasy was like. What a complete mess.

Still, it somehow seemed better than the global international community on Earth.

Anyway, the world was vast, and there were many crazy people in it.

That’s why this world had so many problems.

Of course, I was no exception.

Episode 6 – Betrayer of the Revolution

After the operation concluded, several issues arose. To be precise, they were more like changes than problems.

First, there were personnel changes.

The staff of Project 73 was cut in half. The investigators from the Military Intelligence Bureau’s Counterintelligence Department who had been dispatched returned to their country immediately after the operation ended. Since the Counterintelligence Department had been the main pillar of Project 73, half of the available personnel suddenly vanished.

There were also people with whom contact was lost.

I could no longer reach Sofia. When I called, it said the number didn’t exist, and her office was already empty. The real estate agent said she had completely moved out. Her home, furniture, everything was gone.

Fortunately, I could still contact Dmitri, but even he didn’t know Sofia’s whereabouts. Contact had been cut off as soon as Fabio Verati was extradited. She had clearly gone into hiding to avoid potential tracking by third-country intelligence agencies. Because of that, I couldn’t even say goodbye.

And lastly…

“Jake. I’m fucked.”

Jake narrowed his eyes and glared at me as I spoke with a serious face.

“What is it now, sir?”

“I have too much time on my hands.”

Time had started to pile up.

“Am I Bill Gates or something? I’m just eating food with nothing to do.”

I sprawled out on the sofa, cursing.

“I don’t know who Bill Gates is, but aren’t you working right now?”

“What work?”

“Loafing around.”

I naturally kicked Jake’s shin with my shoe. But instead of the dull thud of hitting a joint, there was only a weak tapping sound.

It was because of my posture.

“Please sit up properly. Please.”

“Absolutely not.”

I sprawled out on the sofa, ignoring Jake’s grumbling.

There was a TV in front of me and a remote in my hand. In my other hand was a tub of ice cream, and on the table in front of me was a pizza that had gone cold after being half-eaten.

Anyone would see me as completely unemployed. The only difference was that I had a job, and this was my workplace.

Sure enough, Pippin, who was passing by, said:

“Is this the embassy or your home, sir?”

“It’s a workplace that feels like family.”

“Don’t you mean a workplace that feels like shit?”

“Is there a difference between the two?”

“Oh my god, I can’t live like this…”

Abbas Embassy to the Magic Tower, 5th floor, Defense Attaché’s Office.

In a nice office with a good view located at the eastern end, I was sprawled out on the sofa, loafing around.

The reason I was doing this at work was simple.

“There’s nothing to do, so what can I do?”

I had no work.

*

With the operation concluded, my duties had vanished like a mirage.

What work would an operative have when the operation was over? Without operations, operatives were essentially useless.

Of course, an operative’s work doesn’t end when the operation is over.

Debriefing superiors, preparing materials for debriefing, creating documents for distribution to other departments, and so on. Only when all these tasks were completed could an operation truly be considered finished.

But I had already completed all of that.

Having finished everything I needed to do after the operation, I was no longer an operative. But I wasn’t a defense attaché either.

I was officially registered as a defense attaché, but that was just a cover identity. So I was in a somewhat ambiguous position to call myself a defense attaché.

A defense attaché is a soldier engaged in diplomatic activities, responsible for military diplomacy and military intelligence gathering, but who in their right mind would entrust diplomacy and intelligence gathering to someone who was just passing through? There were already plenty of defense attachés at the embassy. Moreover, those attachés were intelligence officers who had been active in the Magic Tower for years.

So I wasn’t carrying out any missions or orders.

I was a salary thief.

“Jake.”

“Yes.”

“Bring me some snacks.”

“…”

“Oh, and some soda too.”

I gestured to Jake, who brought me snacks and drinks.

“Look, kids. Magic? You don’t need that. With power or a gun, you can work magic that didn’t exist before.”

Pippin, who was fiddling with a terminal nearby, narrowed his eyes.

“Rank is a thug, huh?”

“And I have both.”

“I guess getting shot slowly wouldn’t hurt?”

“Get shot and tell me yourself.”

Anyway, I had nothing to do.

Of course, it wasn’t that I had absolutely no work, but most of it consisted of listening to reports, writing them up, and forwarding them to higher-ups.

For example, the status of the Inquisition’s intelligence network in the Magic Tower, the movements of the Kiyen Empire’s Reconnaissance Command’s Magic Tower branch, or the activities of the Magic Tower embassy. Of course, there was also the progress of the bombing investigation by the Magic Tower Police and the Public Order Protection Bureau. And incidentally, background checks on Camilla and Lucia’s daily routines and the people they contacted.

It sounds like a lot, but most of the information was collected by intelligence officers or operatives active in the Magic Tower. Among those, there was almost no information I collected directly. At most, the movements of the Inquisition, Magic Tower Police and counterintelligence agencies, and Camilla and Lucia.

With the operation over, there was almost nothing to do. At most, I was watching the news to see how well my actions had been covered up. Since Project 73 was facing dissolution anyway (this is just my brain’s opinion since there was no official order), there were no orders to give.

That’s why I was sitting on the sofa eating snacks. While watching TV.

Around the time the news was reporting on the intense protests in the lower levels of the Magic Tower, Jake asked me a question.

“By the way, what are you going to do with the project team?”

“Dissolve it, I guess. The project is over.”

Project 73 was a task force.

A team temporarily formed to accomplish a specific mission. Project 73’s mission was to track down the Magic Tower intelligence agency that had sent a spy to the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. Since we had not only tracked them down but also retaliated, Project 73 would now follow the process of dissolution.

After hearing this explanation, Pippin said:

“We haven’t received any dissolution instructions from above yet.”

“We were going to part ways eventually. What difference does it make if it’s dissolved a little later?”

I tossed the empty snack bag into the trash can.

“How are the staff doing?”

“They’ve already dispersed and gone into hiding. Everyone’s keeping a low profile.”

They’re all preparing to return home, he said. Since getting caught at the last minute would ruin their lives, they were apparently barely even breathing.

At this rate, Project 73 would be dissolved. While human intelligence might be less expensive than other fields, intelligence agencies were organizations that had to use their limited budgets efficiently. So Project 73 had no choice but to be dissolved.

Unless a new mission was suddenly assigned.

Pippin handed me a report with a slightly regretful expression.

“Here’s today’s report on the Reconnaissance Command’s activities.”

“Leave it there. I’ll look at it when I get to the hotel.”

“Alright. It’s a shame though. I haven’t known them for long, but we did work together.”

“That’s how it is in intelligence. But we’ll meet again someday.”

Of course, this was a lie.

In my experience, I would never see the members of Project 73 again. Military Intelligence wouldn’t allow it. They had to maintain security. Everyone would scatter and return to their respective positions.

While I was flipping through TV channels, the announcer informed viewers that it was 6 o’clock. Quitting time.

“Let’s go home. Only the duty officer stays. Turn off the lights and leave.”

Jake hurriedly put on his clothes, and Pippin, organizing documents, asked me:

“By the way, who’s on duty today?”

I pointed to the board with my finger.

In the duty officer section for today, the name “Pippin” was written.

“You.”

*

Pippin stayed at the embassy for duty. Jake went back to the embassy saying he had forgotten something, but since he hadn’t returned to the hotel yet, he was probably still at the embassy.

“He went in but hasn’t come out?”

-“Yes. Mr. Jake went to the Defense Attaché’s Office. Do you have a message for him?”

“No, it’s fine.”

I ended the call with the embassy security officer (an outsourced employee in charge of access control).

Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t my concern. Whether they were dating or not, what did it matter? As long as they didn’t get stabbed and die on the street, it was fine.

I put away the prepaid phone and knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in!”

When I opened the door wide, Camilla greeted me cheerfully. She was still the same energetic and lively person as always.

“Sorry for visiting in the evening.”

“It’s fine!”

“Haha.”

I laughed awkwardly and placed the gift I had brought, a fatigue recovery potion (a premium Magic Tower-made potion), on the table. Then, naturally following Camilla’s guidance, I took a seat on the sofa.

“What brings you here?”

“No special reason, just checking if you’re doing well. Looks like you had visitors before me?”

I pointed to a robe draped over one side of the sofa and a cape hanging on one wall. The cape was clearly a magician’s, and the white robe belonged to a cleric.

And there were only two people who would leave such items in Camilla’s room.

The 59th Saint of the Church, Lucia.

The Magic Tower Secretariat’s administrator and alchemist, Francesca Ranieri.

Sure enough, Camilla looked at the robe and cape and smiled awkwardly.

“Yes, both of them are here.”

“I see. I hope I’m not intruding.”

Camilla shook her head lightly with a smile.

“It’s fine!”

Lucia had been staying with Camilla at the hotel since coming to the Magic Tower, so that made sense. But Francesca Ranieri was unexpected. It hadn’t even been a week since she moved into the hotel, and they were already close?

I wasn’t sure if it was Camilla who was sociable or Francesca Ranieri.

As I was thinking about this, a voice came from far away.

“Who’s here?”

Speak of the devil. Francesca Ranieri’s voice came through the half-open door.

“…Oh, it’s the attaché.”

“Nice to see you, Administrator. What brings you here? I didn’t know you were here.”

“I came to have a chat. There’s no harm in getting to know each other better.”

She said she came for socializing.

As I shook hands with Francesca Ranieri, I briefly recalled information about this woman.

Descendant of the Magic Tower’s founder. Trinity-affiliated alchemist. From the noble Fatalia family. Magic Tower civil servant. Secretariat administrator. One of the successors to the soon-to-be-vacant Oracle Committee position.

Also a surveillance target of the National Security Agency. Family member of a public security offender.

“…”

Not a particularly attractive resume.

Even without opening the Royal Intelligence Service or Military Intelligence Bureau’s files, it was easy to tell that this woman had grown up in harsh circumstances.

And I sensed that rather than purely coming to build friendships, she had other ulterior motives.

I didn’t need to worry about Lucia since she was at least a semi-politician who could take care of herself. If the alchemist tried to use Lucia through their friendship, the Inquisition disguised as attendants would cut the alchemist’s throat, either physically or politically.

The problem was Camilla.

“…Is Lucia inside?”

“Ah. The Saint is inside.”

Francesca Ranieri nodded, pointing to the inner room.

Good. It’s better if Lucia is nearby. She’s the closest person to Camilla here. If things start to go wrong, she’ll step in to resolve it, and if things get really bad, she’ll tip me off.

Still, just to be safe, I was considering whether to plant a bug in the alchemist’s room when—

-Ring ring ring!

A phone rang.

Francesca Ranieri and Camilla looked at each other in confusion, and I smiled awkwardly.

“It’s my phone. I’ll step out for a moment.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Take your time!”

I watched the two of them leave and took out the phone from my pocket.

On the small screen of the flashing prepaid phone was an unfamiliar contact number.

Who could it be?

“Hello?”

I pressed the call button and held it to my ear.

At that moment, a familiar voice came through the prepaid phone.

-“I’m not your honey.”

“Oh shit.”

It was that crazy woman.