Ch.111Episode 6 – The Omniscient Spy’s Perspective

I returned to the embassy building and sent an urgent report to headquarters.

The encrypted message stated, “I have obtained intelligence that the Magic Tower will experience major political turmoil in the near future.”

Additionally, I sent all of Veronica’s intelligence along with the materials I had personally collected and analyzed to the Military Intelligence Agency.

Then a reply came.

[Message confirmed.]

“……”

There was nothing else—no request for additional intelligence, no mention of who they’d report to, no promise to contact me after a meeting. Nothing.

Confirmed. That was it.

“…Sigh.”

I wasn’t sure what they had confirmed. I didn’t expect an immediate reply since I sent the message after midnight, but this seemed inadequate.

Had they become complacent? Did they deem it not worth responding to? Or was there some other scheme at play? I sat in the communications room chair, deep in thought.

“……”

I couldn’t figure it out. Something just felt… off.

-♪

The awkward silence was broken by a telephone ring.

I looked at the small flashing screen and pressed the answer button after a short exhale. I didn’t even have the energy to sigh anymore.

“…Why are you calling?”

-‘Not calling me honey today?’

“When have I ever called you honey?”

It was Veronica.

-‘Are you free right now?’

“No.”

-‘Then come to the villa where we met last time.’

Episode 6 – Betrayer of the Revolution

It was dawn.

The Milky Way flowed across the magically created sky. Each star in the sky was clearly visible. Between the stars, even the glittering stardust of the galaxy was distinctly visible. The endless expanse of the Milky Way was like a boundless ocean, possessing a strange allure that seemed to draw in those who gazed upon it.

The Milky Way flowing across the clear sky looked down upon the world.

I exhaled the moist air filling my lungs. Everything felt dreamlike, yet the moonlight reflecting off the sea and pebbles illuminated the world brightly.

Under that scenery worthy of a fantasy film sat a woman.

“You came?”

It was Veronica. She was sitting in a small folding chair, with a tiny camping table beside her.

Wine bottles were scattered across the table. It seemed she had been drinking before I arrived. Such an alcoholic.

“Drinking again?”

“I would have preferred a nice bar, but unfortunately, we’re here in secret.”

There were two chairs.

I walked past the smiling Veronica and sat in the chair prepared for me. Then I turned my head to look around.

Before me stretched an endless sea, and above, a cascade of stars flowed across the sky. We were alone on this vast beach. It was quite a picturesque scene, but I wasn’t in the best mood.

“Why did you call me?”

At my blunt request to get to the point, Veronica’s lips curved into a smooth arc. What followed was a complaint. She responded in a gentle voice.

“Work talk again. Are you always going to start with business whenever we meet? You seem so cold.”

“You’re not the type to call someone out in the middle of the night just to drink, especially someone like me.”

“…Well, you’re not bad for someone in uniform, except for the strong smell of suits.”

After making that strange remark, Veronica muttered while looking at her phone screen.

“…It’s still early evening.”

I turned on my burner phone to check the time. It was exactly 1:00.

“It’s 1 AM right now?”

“Come on, for a civil servant, this is just evening, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Anyway, since we have plenty of time…”

Veronica tapped her phone a few times, then gently smiled and put down the wine bottle. The half-consumed wine in the bottle on the table sloshed around.

“Major.”

“Yes, Saint.”

“Shall we talk for a bit?”

*

Veronica. The 58th Saint of the Order.

Born to a baronial family in the Kiyen Empire, Veronica lost her family in a tragic accident. She was five years old at the time. It was a traffic accident.

Veronica entered an orphanage that had been supported by the baron’s family, and from there, she was recruited by the Imperial Guard and became a Saint.

I first met her under the Order’s 25th bridge.

“It was pouring rain then, wasn’t it?”

“Thanks to that, the wiretaps were neutralized. It was easy to escape too.”

“We held hands tightly and ran through the rain. That was already two months ago.”

“Has it really been that long?”

Veronica drank the half-remaining wine with a bright smile.

“So. How is it living with Lucia and the Hero these days?”

“How is it? I’m busy as hell.”

“Hey! Don’t dodge the question, tell me!”

What am I dodging, for heaven’s sake?

I was too tired to even sigh, so I just said what I had to say.

“Nothing’s happening. I don’t even have time to talk to them, let alone rest.”

“Last time I saw you, you seemed to be having fun together. Riding that monster.”

“That was work. Not playing.”

The Wasteland operation was clearly a military operation. So I wasn’t playing around with Camilla; I was working. The Military Intelligence Agency was part of the Department of Defense, and intelligence officers were technically military personnel. It was strange for Veronica to describe it as playing around.

Veronica reached across the table and annoyingly poked my side. Then she spouted nonsense.

“Still, it must be nice having so many women around? Don’t discriminate, take good care of all three of them.”

“Saint. Are you messing with me right now?”

“Oh? You caught on?”

Her attitude was so brazen that I wanted to smack her. But I couldn’t. Even though there was no one around, if we were caught, I’d be done for in an instant.

She seemed well aware of this and laughed uproariously, holding her stomach. It was mockery.

“Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Veronica was now laughing with tears in her eyes. After laughing for a while, she finally calmed down and wiped her eyes with her fingers.

“Ah, that’s funny… Can I give you some advice?”

“Please don’t.”

“Lucia aside, be careful with the Hero.”

“Careful of what? Fire hazards?”

“No, just be careful when dealing with her as a person!”

What a strange thing to say.

I sat in the folding chair and tilted my head.

“Is there a reason?”

“Hmm. Just a feeling?”

“Is that your feeling as a Saint? Or as the person named Veronica?”

“Is there a need to distinguish between the two? They’re both me.”

“So the reason is just a feeling. Is that all?”

“Yep.”

It wasn’t a question worth answering. I leaned back against the chair and fell into thought.

Her recruitment motivation was probably money and human connection.

For a young girl who had lost her family in an instant, material wealth and human connection were essential. She was a growing child, after all. The Imperial Guard probably exploited that aspect.

It was a miserable and base thing to do to a girl who had lost her parents and siblings, but that’s what intelligence agencies typically did.

To this, Veronica smiled mournfully and reminisced about the past years in a rather calm tone.

“Watching Raul cozy up with the imperial nobles, I thought I’d just be twiddling my thumbs until I became obsolete. But somehow, I’ve made it this far alive.”

Veronica spoke with a composed demeanor. She appeared slightly dignified.

No, rather than composed or dignified, “accustomed” might be the better word.

For a high-level informant controlled by the Imperial Guard, life-threatening situations would have been commonplace.

“Oh right. Long ago, I almost died while on a missionary trip. Do you know about that?”

“Brunda?”

“Oh, you know?”

Brunda is a country in northern Moritani.

Besides the civil war, it’s a region where indigenous religions and witchcraft hold strong influence. Even elemental mages, classified as “wizards,” risk their lives when they go there. Religious clergy of different faiths are even more at risk. The fact that she returned alive after going on a missionary trip was a miracle in itself.

Veronica continued with a slight smile. Perhaps due to the alcohol, her pronunciation was clear, but her voice trembled slightly.

“Actually, it wasn’t so much for missionary work as it was for Imperial Guard business. A new rift had appeared in southern Brunda, but it was in warlord-controlled territory, so it wasn’t easy to approach.”

“Did they need resources from the rift?”

Without losing her smile, Veronica naturally gripped the wine bottle and rested her chin on her hand.

“I wouldn’t know. They didn’t tell me.”

“As an informant?”

“As an informant.”

I nodded as I accepted the bottle she handed me. I had no choice.

From the perspective of a handler who controls informants from behind the scenes, informants shouldn’t know too much. You never know when they might be caught. If they were to be kidnapped by an enemy intelligence agency, the information in the informant’s head would become a deadly poison.

That’s why all handlers don’t tell their informants much. Purpose, direction, plans, even names and affiliations.

This way, even if the informant is caught, the handler can escape alive.

So informants and operatives were just consumables—used when convenient and discarded when necessary. That’s why people like us called such individuals “assets.”

No matter how you dress it up, they were ultimately disposable.

Veronica was no different.

“Looking back, they never gave me proper answers to my questions, which caused me a lot of trouble. They told me to find a way to approach, but they didn’t tell me where or why I was approaching, so I almost died.”

“…How?”

It was a slightly stupid question. I had already seen many people who died on missionary trips.

But Veronica calmly brought her hand to her neck and tapped it.

“I almost got beheaded! I had long hair back then, but I almost died with a bob cut!”

“Ah, I see.”

Her tone was cheerful, but the situation was anything but.

Beheadings and executions were familiar, but hearing it described like that was… well.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“…Tsk.”

With nothing else to say, I opened the cork and looked for a glass. But no matter how hard I looked, there was nothing resembling a wine glass on the table.

“No glasses?”

“Just drink straight from the bottle. Why be so formal between us?”

Watching Veronica wave her hand and drink straight from the bottle, I couldn’t help but ask out of sheer disbelief.

“…What kind of relationship do we have?”

“Hmm… The kind where we hold hands and pant all night long?”

“Bullshit.”

It was quite a talent to speak like that.

I held the opened wine bottle in my hand and stared blankly at the sea. Across from me, Veronica put down her wine bottle with a thud.

“Ugh- I’m getting drunk.”

“…Let’s maintain some dignity.”

After downing what looked like an extremely expensive wine like water, Veronica quickly became incoherent and swayed. It was a sight I could hardly bear to watch, so I lightly scolded her. Veronica roughly wiped her mouth with her hand. She muttered, comparing me to the Order’s old-fashioned members.

“Stop nagging. Did I come all the way here to be nagged?”

“……”

Not having the confidence to humor a drunk person, I just silently looked at the night sea. Veronica carelessly threw the empty bottle onto the white sand and fumbled around looking for a new one.

I handed her the wine I was holding as she bent over, almost falling, searching for a bottle.

After taking a sip of the wine, Veronica leaned back in her chair and began to mutter.

“Still… life got better over time.”

“What did?”

“Well, you know. After more than 20 years… people started talking about various things.”

“People from the Imperial Guard?”

Veronica silently took a sip of wine and nodded slightly.

I looked at her and asked a question.

“What did they say?”

“Life stories. Work stories. Just ordinary conversations.”

“……”

“They went somewhere and the scenery was beautiful. They came from somewhere and their hometown had this and that. They tried some food and it was delicious. What gifts should they buy for their families? They miss someone they broke up with. The higher-ups are assholes. Kids these days have no manners…”

The Saint gazed at the Magic Tower’s night sea, reminiscing about days gone by. Whether drunk on wine or on the passing years, her continued murmuring was not eloquent.

If a journalist had heard this, they would have immediately taken out their notebook to record it, but I didn’t need such things. I could remember most conversations and situations in my head. I had been trained that way, had gone through such situations, and ultimately developed such habits.

It’s the same now.

I was putting each piece of information Veronica dropped into my head, thinking about what kind of report I would have to write when I got back. It was a natural thought process without any deliberate planning.

Suddenly, I wondered how I had become like this.

So for the first time, I asked Veronica a personal question.

“Veronica.”

“Yes.”

I had many questions I wanted to ask her.

Why did you accept the intelligence officer’s recruitment offer?

Weren’t you scared when you were first summoned to the imperial palace?

Knowing they were assigning you dangerous tasks, why didn’t you refuse?

What did you do with the rewards you received for helping the Imperial Guard?

When Lucia went to war, you were already a Saint, so why didn’t you stop your close sister from going to the battlefield?

Was there a reason you had to live, even if it meant slandering Lucia and eliminating Raul?

Lucia didn’t become a Saint, so why did you send an assassin?

I had many questions I wanted to ask.

Some were questions I could easily find answers to with a little effort, some could be answered by opening the intelligence agency’s archives, and some were questions that would be difficult to get answers to even if I asked now.

I had many questions I wanted to ask, but in the end, I could only voice one doubt.

“Why did you become an informant?”

“……”

Why did you become an informant?

To this, Veronica raised her head and answered.

“Because I wanted to live.”

“……”

“Does a person need a reason to live?”

It was a very difficult question.

It was also a question without a correct answer. That’s why it was so difficult to answer.

Philosophy, beliefs, ideology, past, inner thoughts. It was a question that required pressing all of oneself into an answer. It was a harder question than the “which came first, the egg or the chicken” question I got during a high school club interview.

In fact, all problems in the world were like that.

If you ask someone, “Who are you?” they might answer, “I am so-and-so of such-and-such rank in such-and-such organization,” but if you ask, “What kind of person are you?” they would find it difficult to answer.

People are beings that cannot be easily defined, and all things in the world ultimately stem from people.

To this, the Saint asked me a question.

“Major.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you become a soldier?”

It was a very difficult question.

As I was choosing an answer to give, suddenly the scent of violets and alcohol wafted in on the sea breeze. I must be drunk.

I sighed deeply and stood up.

Once again, I hadn’t obtained any proper intelligence today. Not having the courage to endure Veronica’s drunken ramblings, I tried to take the wine she was holding.

Thinking about it now, perhaps I did so because I didn’t want to answer.

“You’re drunk. Go inside and sleep…”

“Aack…! Let go!”

“No, you’re drunk right now!”

“I’m not drunk…!”

With the night sea as our backdrop, two people struggled over a wine bottle.

Anyone watching would have clicked their tongue, thinking, “Even when drunk, one should be gracefully drunk.”

I coaxed and cajoled the drunk Veronica. She was stronger than she looked.

“You crazy woman! If a drunk person stays by the water at night, they’ll die! Get up and go home quickly!”

“You’re not my parent, why are you like this…!”

“This is driving me crazy! Shit!”

“It’s miiiiine…!”

Veronica, behaving in a way unbecoming of a religious saint, lay down on the white sand. She was already crazy, and with alcohol added, it was impossible to handle her.

I thought about threatening to report her to the Inquisition, but seeing a grown adult in a state of intoxication, hugging a wine bottle and making a fuss, such threats didn’t seem like they would work.

“Alright, just go inside and drink!”

“You didn’t answer me!”

“Why are you interested in other people’s family matters!”

“Ah, so it was because of family?”

Her voice was surprisingly normal for a drunk person.

Wondering what was going on, I looked up to find Veronica looking at me with an expression that suggested her intoxication had suddenly cleared.

“Well, if that’s what it was, you should have said so. Tell me about it.”

“Why are you asking about that? You’ve already investigated my background, haven’t you?”

“Knowing about someone else’s family matters while not sharing your own is not polite.”

It was such an absurd logic. If Aristotle heard this, he would dig himself out of his grave and kick her in the chest.

But Veronica’s attitude was so confident, and the strength of her grip on the bottle was beyond imagination. No matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn’t budge. Does the religion in this neighborhood also grant muscle growth if you pray diligently? If I had known, I would have attended church regularly too.

“Let’s talk after you put this down.”

“I won’t let go unless you tell me.”

“…Sigh.”

In the end, I had no choice but to speak, sighing deeply.

“…My dad was a soldier. Satisfied?”

“Dad? Your father never went to the military, did he? I know he worked at the Treasury Department?”

“…Then let’s say someone like a father. Whatever.”

“Then what about joining the intelligence agency?”

“I passed the exam.”

“Not that. Was that father-like person in the intelligence agency?”

“…Yes, let’s say that.”

“Eh, what’s this?”

Veronica put down the wine bottle with a face that showed her interest had completely waned. The rolling bottle sank into the sand.

I staggered to my feet and dusted the sand off my clothes, while Veronica lay spread-eagled like a child, looking up at the sky.

Not having the energy to say anything, I sat on the folding chair, leaving Veronica sprawled on the sand.

“…Get up quickly. If we’re done playing, we should go in.”

“……”

“…Veronica?”

“……”

“Are you sleeping?”

“……”

“……”

Wondering if she might be asleep, I moved slightly to the side and saw the magically created moonlight illuminating Veronica’s face. Her eyes were already closed. Thinking she might be playing a prank, I poked her a few times and even put my finger to the tip of her nose, but Veronica didn’t budge. She was definitely asleep.

“…This is crazy.”

I carried Veronica on my back and, with all my strength, returned to her villa. I neatly cleaned up all the left-behind belongings and bottles.

And only after throwing the drunk woman onto the bed did I notice the throbbing pain in my left shoulder.

The stitches had torn.