Ch.135Episode 7 – Daily Life (End)

# It Had Been a Day Without Thoughts of Home

In the security room of the Abbas delegation at the Magic Tower, a security terminal on my desk made strange noises as it operated. I took in the outdated security programs and figures displayed on the screen.

Looking at these encryption materials, outdated even by 21st century standards, I was struck anew by the thought: “This really is a different world.”

-“…I see. You seem to be preparing well for your return. Any problems?”

“Nothing unusual.”

-“That’s good to hear. I’ll get the details after you return.”

The sound of turning pages transmitted through magical waves rustled in my ears.

-“Are you preparing well for the debriefing?”

“Paperwork is my job, so it’s nothing special.”

I pulled out the operation manuals and intelligence reports from my desk drawer. The hundreds of pages of documents contained information about all intelligence operations conducted at the Magic Tower.

Intelligence agencies may talk about minimizing documentation for security reasons, but most intelligence work begins and ends with paperwork. The reality is that we spend more time holding pens and keyboards than guns and weapons.

The person on the other end seemed to agree, as laughter came through the secure line.

-“How does it feel to be back in the field after quitting your job as an aide? Is it miserable?”

“Why ask when you already know? You were an investigator for over ten years yourself.”

-“That’s just how work life is.”

Before I could respond, a security data reception alert appeared in the corner of the screen. I clicked on the notification and asked Klevins:

“What’s this?”

-“Documents you’ll need for your return. I’ve included the details for your reference. The password is 3174.”

The communication ended. The terminal turned gray, indicating the secure line had been disconnected. I opened the security file I had downloaded and combined the password using a random number booklet I took from the drawer.

The file contained documents needed for using the warp gate, methods for passing through immigration as a diplomat, means of contacting nearby branches in case of problems, and locations for receiving activity funds.

After staring at the screen for a while, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“……”

The day had come.

Finally, time to return.

## Episode 7 – Daily Life

Being an intelligence officer is a boring profession.

Intelligence officers in movies are mostly portrayed with glamorous, fiery, and bold images, but in reality, intelligence officers lead ordinary lives.

Wake up, eat breakfast, prepare for work, go to work, attend morning meetings, handle some documents, grab a quick lunch, work on more documents, and leave at 6 PM. There’s not much to do at home. Those with families take care of household chores, singles order late-night food and play games or watch Netflix, and those ambitious about promotion study in their spare time. After spending time like that and falling asleep, it’s back to work the next day.

The biggest concern is what to eat for lunch. Nobody likes overtime, extra work is annoying, and payday is the best—especially when bonuses come in. Just seeing the words “Military Finance Management Corps” on your smartphone suddenly improves your mood.

There’s nothing special about intelligence agencies. It’s easier to just think of them as companies.

Things might be different overseas or in the provinces, but from my experience, there’s not much difference there either.

Of course, not everyone in intelligence agencies works with such a materialistic mindset.

However, when people repeat the same job for over ten years, they inevitably fall into a routine. You know the type—people counting down to retirement after fulfilling their pension requirements. Incidentally, almost all of them wear golf attire.

Once, watching senior colleagues in golf attire wandering around the office with their Android phones in diary-style cases, I thought, “Will I be like that after serving for another 20 years?”

Twenty years? Yeah, right.

I’m only in my tenth year, and it’s already killing me.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, yes…”

After sleeping for about two hours, I ran into Lucia in casual clothes in the hallway on my way to the hotel breakfast.

Waving her hand happily as she came down the stairs, Lucia stopped in front of me and gave me a puzzled look.

“You don’t look well. Is something wrong?”

“I was working late last night.”

“Ah.”

*

Humans are creatures of adaptation.

Just as a dog at a Confucian school can recite poetry after three years, and a dog at a reading hall can quote Mencius—after three months of overseas assignment, I had gradually adapted to life in a foreign land.

And Camilla, now in her third week of training, was no exception.

“Accéndo.”

Whoosh! A bright red flame bloomed at the tip of her finger. Though the crimson flame was very small, like a candle, its intensity was no less than a torch.

Seeing the burning flame, Camilla smiled brightly. In her other hand, she precariously held a magic book.

The flame grew and shrank according to Camilla’s ability. Sometimes it tilted sideways like it was swaying in the wind, or shot forward.

“Wow! A flamethrower!”

Like an old man in a turban controlling a cobra with a flute, Camilla manipulated the flame, moving around the entire room.

I quietly watched the scene, and when she came near, I splashed water from a cup and gave her a light knock on her small head.

“I told you not to play with fire indoors!”

Thunk!

“D’oh!”

Having received the knock, Camilla squinted one eye and let out a strange cry. Simpson this time, huh?

“I told you to practice magic on the rooftop. I even emptied the pool for you to use alone. Are you trying to kill someone?”

“Gaaaah…!”

Just as I had adapted to life at the Magic Tower, Camilla seemed to have adapted to intelligence officer training in her own way, studying magic whenever she had time.

Of course, she was still an accident-prone troublemaker due to her lack of experience, but under my supervision, there hadn’t been any major accidents that could cause casualties.

But that’s not my concern. No accidents means no accidents, but scolding is still scolding.

“If you keep using magic so carelessly and burn everything down, what are you going to do…!”

Camilla rubbed her crown and shrieked.

“I can’t use guns, so I need to use magic!”

“I’ll give you shooting training later when I get a gun, so please stop using magic in the room.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But first, let’s check your pockets.”

“Why, why my pockets…?”

“There are snacks on the floor. I definitely confiscated them, but you couldn’t wait…”

While scolding Camilla, I discovered and confiscated snacks (moving animal cookies) that she had hidden without my knowledge. Camilla resisted but eventually had to pout as all her hidden food was taken away.

In the midst of searching her pockets and the suite room to confiscate snacks, bread, and drinks, someone came to visit.

Long eye corners and eyelashes. Eyes that exuded charisma at a glance. Violet eyes like pansies and purple hair braided to one side. It was someone familiar to both Camilla and me.

“Administrator? You’re back already.”

“It’s good to see you. Have you both been well?”

Francesca, a high-ranking civil servant in the Magic Tower’s Secretariat and an alchemist.

“Welcome back!”

“I’m back. I thought it would be rude to come empty-handed, so I brought some gifts, though I’m not sure if you’ll like them.”

She showed us elegant envelopes and boxes that clearly bore the emblems of companies or workshops with considerable history in Fatalia and the Magic Tower.

“What are all these?”

“Items I brought from my homeland to help with magic practice. I’m not sure if you’ll like them. Would you like to take a look?”

“I’d love to. But are these just for me?”

Francesca smiled slightly.

“Don’t worry. There are gifts for Saint Lucia and Guard Officer as well.”

Camilla said that was a relief and began opening the gifts Francesca had brought. I greeted her warmly while blocking a hand trying to secretly sneak away a snack.

“I heard you had returned, but I didn’t expect you to come now. How was your trip?”

I wasn’t particularly curious. Given that Francesca was under surveillance by the National Security Agency and that I had acquaintances there, I already knew what she had been doing in Fatalia.

But sometimes in life, one must tell lies.

“It was quite moving to visit my homeland after so long. I met friends and saw my brother. Even after ten years, nothing had changed there. It was just as I remembered.”

“I’m glad you returned safely. Where did you visit?”

“Just my alma mater, acquaintances’ workshops, stores, streets… I wandered around greeting people I had forgotten.”

“I see. Speaking of which, you’ve lived abroad for over ten years—have you visited your hometown?”

“I also visited the villa where I used to live. Well, it belongs to someone else now.”

“What about your family?”

“……”

Francesca stopped answering and quietly smiled. It meant she didn’t want to talk about it. I’m guessing she’s either still conscious of the National Security Agency’s surveillance or doesn’t have a good relationship with her family.

Looks like I have something new to investigate.

I put on a smile and changed the subject.

“It’s good to see you after so long. Let’s have a meal together now that you’re back.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“And if it’s not too intrusive, could you tell us about your trip? I don’t know much about Fatalia.”

She answered.

“Sure.”

*

Officially, Francesca is a high-ranking civil servant in the Magic Tower’s Secretariat.

She came to the Magic Tower as a student in her childhood, graduated from prestigious universities, and as an alchemist, joined the Elemental School, one of the three major schools, becoming part of the Magic Tower’s mainstream. Currently, Francesca works as an administrator in the Secretariat that assists the Oracle, and with the major reorganization of the Secretariat, media outlets predict she will soon occupy a key position.

However, some question whether Francesca Ranieri can really hold a key position in the Magic Tower, given that her most important background, the “Ranieri family,” is under surveillance by Fatalia’s National Security Agency.

Would the Magic Tower place a traitor from its strongest ally, Fatalia, in a key position? And would Fatalia, the Magic Tower’s blood ally, tolerate the advancement of a public security criminal?

Due to this sensational story, such questions are constantly raised among the continent’s gossips and diplomats. It has been so and will continue to be so.

As long as the scarlet letter of “public security criminal” is branded on her, such questions and dishonorable tags will follow Francesca for life.

However, what they don’t know is that Francesca Ranieri is an informant controlled by a foreign intelligence agency.

And that the intelligence officer managing her is right beside her.

“I heard about it. Something happened during your trip, right?”

In Francesca’s room, right next to Camilla’s suite, I sat across from the room’s owner, chatting.

Francesca, who had returned to the hotel after a long time, looked truly exhausted.

“Yes, I see the news has reached you too.”

She nodded calmly and told me what had happened.

“Someone came from the family. A person who had worked at the main house for a long time. She was also my nanny.”

“I see.”

Francesca explained the circumstances of her meeting with her nanny in Fatalia.

Her tone was less like telling a friend about a trip and more like reporting her actions in detail to a superior. In fact, I was the intelligence officer managing her, so I was indeed her superior.

“What did she say?”

“The head of the family wanted to see me after my long absence. Specifically, he wanted to have a meal with the family and at least see my face, but I felt there was some other intention.”

The head of the family.

“By the head of the Ranieri family, do you mean your father?”

“Yes.”

Fatalia is nominally a democratic republic without a class system, but the government exceptionally recognizes the noble status of the Ranieri family.

Of course, everyone knows this directly contradicts Fatalia’s constitution and is difficult to accept given the national sentiment against the class system, but because the Ranieri family has deep connections with the Magic Tower, which has a tight grip on the magical society, the Ranieri family “for now” maintains its noble status through social consensus (or rather, nationwide tacit approval).

From my memory, the current head of the Ranieri family should be Francesca’s father. The person who succeeded her grandfather, who was firmly marked as a public security criminal for his nonsense, and has been cleaning up the mess as the head of the family for the past 20 years. The Royal Intelligence Service documents I received from Leoni defined the current head of the Ranieri family as such.

The problem is,

“Why did he want to meet you? It seems your family treats you as someone who has half left the family.”

What was the purpose of the current head of the family attempting to contact Francesca?

To this, the head’s daughter briefly answered.

“It seemed like an internal family matter.”

Internal affairs, she says.

“Do you not know, or do you not want to tell me?”

“I don’t know that much either. I didn’t hear.”

Francesca explained that she only heard from her nanny that “the head wants to see the young lady” and that “it’s an internal family matter.”

“Do you have any recordings or other records?”

“No.”

Francesca answered, slightly drawing her shoulders together and clasping her hands. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, making her answer sound a bit strange.

“Did your nanny say anything else? What this internal matter is, where to meet…”

“Nothing besides meeting at the main house. The nanny didn’t seem to know the exact reason either.”

“And no letter or anything from the head of the family?”

“No.”

Though I wanted to press further as something seemed suspicious, I stopped my questioning here. I’ll probably need to contact Sophia.

“I understand.”

I continued to ask various questions. What food she ate in Fatalia, where she stayed, whether anyone suspicious followed her, and so on.

After asking these questions, I confirmed that Francesca’s direct testimony roughly matched the activities reported by the National Security Agency, and that she hadn’t noticed the National Security Agency officers monitoring her.

And I heard a very interesting story that wasn’t in the Royal Intelligence Service documents.

“What kind of place was this family villa?”

“It’s where I was born and raised.”

Information not available in the Intelligence Service, Defense Ministry, or Foreign Ministry. Whether due to professional habit or something else, I was drawn to gradually probe about the villa.

Perhaps, just perhaps, I might discover what motivated Francesca to enter this field.

“Weren’t you born at the main house?”

“No. I was born at the villa. My mother was staying there for recuperation when she suddenly went into labor, and a priest who was found with difficulty delivered me. I grew up there from childhood. After entering the academy, I moved to the main house, but I often visited when I wasn’t feeling well. My grandmother was also recuperating there, so I wasn’t lonely.”

“It sounds like a meaningful place.”

“It’s a place I always miss.”

Of course.

“Then why did you stay at a hotel instead of the villa?”

“Because it was sold.”

“……”

I wasn’t aware that the villa containing Francesca’s memories had been auctioned off and sold years ago.

I felt a bit awkward for unintentionally stirring up painful memories, but Francesca didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past.”

“Uh, hmm… How much would it cost to buy back the villa? It’s a place with memories after all.”

“Are you offering to buy it for me? I would like to have it back.”

That was a positive sign. If she was willing to repurchase the villa, I was planning to calculate the specific amount of activity funds to be paid to Francesca in the future.

But.

“How much did you say it costs?”

“About this much, I think.”

“……”

The land prices were no joke. I had forgotten how crazy real estate prices were in this area.

In the end, I had no choice but to back down.

An awkward silence fell, and she gazed out the window like someone lost in distant memories.

In the dim hotel room, her pansy-like eyes, filled with melancholy, overlapped with the gray city’s night view.

“It’s a place I miss. A place I always want to return to.”

*

Though I had suggested having a meal to celebrate her return, we couldn’t go outside the hotel to eat.

It was because of security concerns.

With two saints who receive VIP treatment worldwide, a high-ranking civil servant from a prestigious magical family, an important guest from another world, and a diplomat from a foreign country all moving together, security was a major concern. And this is the Magic Tower. With the already unstable public safety, going out as a group with two religious figures for a meal would be a very dangerous adventure.

Moreover, given the Magic Tower’s characteristics, many restaurants refuse to serve religious figures, so finding a restaurant that would accept Lucia and Veronica was a task in itself. How could we enjoy dining out under these circumstances?

We couldn’t risk sneaking out for a meal and causing problems that would only embarrass the Magic Tower, and ordering room service seemed a bit repetitive since we’d been eating the same food every day.

Of course,

There was a solution.

“I’ve brought a chef.”

With the help of diplomats working at the delegation, I invited a chef to the hotel.

Camilla, who had been exercising near the hotel, tilted her head at the sight of people filing in.

“My goodness. Aren’t those the people from that Arab restaurant you mentioned before?”

“Not Middle Eastern, but Mauritanian. After investigating the restaurant owner, I found out he was quite a renowned chef in the Mauritanian continent and even worked as a head chef at a hotel until a few years ago.”

“Didn’t you say they had a different religion? How did you manage to invite such people?”

To Camilla’s question, I made a circular gesture with my finger.

“Money. That’s what.”

Even people who dislike America and don’t speak English will accept dollars. That’s my experience.

Anyway.

Some might ask why we need to call in chefs just for five people to have a meal, but there was no need to save money when entertaining the saints of the Order, the hero, and a high-ranking civil servant of the Magic Tower.

The chefs, who closed their restaurant early at the request of the Abbas delegation’s minister, came to the hotel to prepare a feast for us.

Mauritanian cuisine has similarities to Middle Eastern and West Asian food. Even the way they slaughter livestock for food preparation is similar—like the Islamic “halal” where the animal’s head is placed toward “qibla” (the direction of Mecca) and the “shahada” (Islamic prayer) is recited to send the animal away without pain, the chefs from the Mauritanian continent slaughtered and butchered livestock on the spot according to their beliefs.

Goats, chickens, sheep, cattle, and more.

The chefs slaughtered animals they had procured from somewhere according to their procedures and prepared them as ingredients for cooking.

The reason for this complicated process, rather than simply buying ingredients from the market, was due to the religion and culture of the Mauritanian continent.

What was it called again? According to the minister (a career diplomat who had worked in the Mauritanian continent for 20 years), in the Mauritanian continent, there’s a culture that considers it the highest form of hospitality to slaughter home-raised livestock for guests. I don’t remember the exact term, but he said it originated from the nomadic tradition of offering one’s own property to guests.

After this rare spectacle came a feast of cuisine.

Mauritanian dishes centered around spices, grains, meat, and fish, accompanied by olives, sweet figs drizzled with honey, cucumbers, and more, were placed on the table. Pita bread, pilaf, falafel, hummus, kabsa, shrak, mandi, kofta…

With such exotic dishes that one rarely gets to experience, the dining atmosphere was…

Well, it needed no explanation.

“Wow, there’s a duck inside a camel!”

Not only Lucia and Francesca, who hadn’t traveled abroad much, but even Camilla, who had been to Africa several times, was visibly excited to experience the food culture of the Mauritanian continent.

“Wait, you’ve been to Africa often but haven’t tried Middle Eastern food? Northern African cuisine is identical to Arab cuisine.”

“I’ve never been to North Africa. I mostly went to East or South Africa, and they only have food made from grain flour mixed with water.”

That’s certainly true. There’s a significant difference in food culture between relatively wealthy countries like Morocco and Libya compared to South Sudan and Eritrea.

I also initially thought it would be similar to Middle Eastern food when I went on a business trip, only to curse when I saw rice with spices dumped into it (it looked like ketchup).

Camilla, who had been eating a mush of grain and water, seemed to like Middle Eastern food.

Francesca, though she had lived in the Magic Tower for a long time, appeared to be experiencing Mauritanian cuisine for the first time, and Lucia seemed more interested in the religious elements and cultural aspects embedded in the cooking process and ingredient preparation than in the food itself.

And I was just pouring drinks for the saint sitting next to me.

“I don’t know if I’m a diplomat or a drink server.”

“Consider it an honor to pour drinks for a saint.”

“Ah, yes.”

The atmosphere was truly solemn, but it resembled older folks drinking together, unable to join the younger crowd, rather than high-ranking officials discussing weighty matters.

As I poured drinks, I asked Veronica:

“Please cut down on the alcohol, Saint. Just how many bottles do you drink in a day—”

“Be quiet!”

“Oomph—”

Veronica shoved a goat leg from the kabsa into my mouth, afraid someone might hear.

The flavor of meat soaked in broth and the aroma of spices that had seeped into the meat filled my mouth. Literally filled it.

While I was deboning the meat that had invaded my mouth, Veronica looked around and sighed softly as she picked up her glass.

“How could you say such things where everyone can hear…!”

“Come on, for someone who cares about appearances, you openly smoke hookah at tobacco shops during work hours…?”

“That’s done secretly, away from the bishops.”

“You live quite an interesting life, Saint. Impressive.”

“I know.”

That wasn’t a compliment.

As usual, we sat slightly apart from the others, exchanging meaningless banter. Typically, Veronica would say something nonsensical, and I would rebuke her.

“Preparations for Raphael’s enthronement are almost complete. Soon, Lucia will also have her canonization ceremony at the Order, which will be one of the grandest in history.”

“Is that so? It sounds magnificent just hearing about it. Has the list of distinguished guests been released?”

“You could say they’re gathering from all over the world. Ah— I’m envious. A canonization ceremony more splendid than mine.”

“Why would a grown adult be envious of such things…?”

“Envy is envy! I still keep the ceremonial robe I wore at my canonization. Would you like to see it sometime? It’s quite magnificent.”

“Why on earth would I want to see that?”

Our conversation wasn’t particularly nutritious.

Veronica was busy boasting about Lucia and Francesca for whatever reason, and I was occupied with filling her glass and playing along.

“So, what I’m saying is that our Lucia is fucking awesome. I mean, she broke a rock the size of her head with her bare fist…”

“Ah, yes, yes, Saint. You must like martial arts novels.”

“It’s true!”

“Of course it is. Only in your imagination.”

We continued our meaningless chatter for quite some time.

The delegation’s work was gradually normalizing, and my role as a resident officer was somewhat wrapping up. What remained was now the responsibility of the Magic Tower branch intelligence officers.

Additionally, Camilla and Lucia’s public activities were progressing actively, and any political or diplomatic issues regarding the activities of Camilla, Lucia, and Francesca were being resolved by politicians including Veronica.

Moreover, Camilla’s intelligence officer training and magic practice were also showing results, so I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve had a comfortable meal…”

“Then would you like a drink?”

“No.”

“Ah, you’re such a boring person.”

Veronica pressured me to pour drinks for her, saying drinking alone ruins the taste. I followed her instructions without protest.

As the atmosphere mellowed and the meal was coming to an end, Veronica nudged my side.

“I hear you’re returning soon, Major?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“The Abbas diplomats were saying so. That you’re planning to return soon.”

It must have leaked from the Foreign Ministry.

Since I wasn’t particularly trying to hide it, I nodded calmly.

“Yes, I need to briefly return to my country.”

“Hmm, is that so? I thought you might be taking it easy after moving around so busily for a while.”

She muttered to herself about whether she should give me a gift, stretching. I took her words as a joke and smiled slightly.

“You already gave me a watch last time, why would you give me something else?”

“If I take money from you, that’s a sin, but if I give you a bribe, that’s not a crime, right?”

“Giving money to a spy is also a crime. I checked, and that’s what the law says.”

“I can just say I didn’t know.”

She coolly dismissed it, saying she would never rat me out even if she were caught by the Guardian Office.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but well, it still feels nice.

“You’ve worked hard, Major.”

Veronica offered me her glass. From the sweet smell, it seemed to be date palm wine.

“The chefs brought it. It doesn’t suit my taste, but how about you? Are you still on duty and unable to drink?”

“I told you I don’t drink.”

“Ah, if you keep refusing, I think my feelings might get hurt…”

She smiled gently and tilted the glass. It seemed she would be quite upset if I refused this too.

“Saint, do you know something?”

“What is it?”

I accepted the glass she offered. Veronica probably wouldn’t understand what I was talking about.

“The Quran prohibits alcohol, but in the Middle East, wine made from date palms isn’t considered alcohol.”

“Quran? Hmm…”

Veronica frowned briefly, trying to recall what the Quran was, but nothing came to mind. So she didn’t place much significance on my nonsense.

“Well, whatever.”

Our glasses clinked.

She emptied her glass in one go, while I slowly savored the date palm wine I was tasting for the first time in 28 years.

Laughter and music blended pleasantly, and the glass wall filling one side of the room reflected the brilliantly shining magical city.

“You really have worked hard, Major.”

“Working hard is my job, so it’s nothing special.”

It was the conclusion of a very ordinary day.

*

After dinner, I returned to my hotel room and packed my belongings.

The night view of the Magic Tower shone brightly as always, and the streets were as beautiful as ever.

Just as I was starting to adapt to life at the Magic Tower, it was already time to return. I probably won’t be able to see this night view for a while.

While packing, I pondered what gifts to buy when I returned and what Camilla, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica might need.

“…Ah, I need to see my family too.”

-♬!

A sound came from my bag. The security terminal in my family bag lit up with a loud noise.

It’s Jake.

“Hey, what’s up, Jake?”

-“M-M-Major!”

An urgent voice came through the line. Listening carefully, I could also hear Pippin shouting in the background.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where are you guys right now?”

-“We’re at the delegation! No, that’s not what’s important right now…!”

“Slowly, speak clearly.”

-“I know a senior colleague in the Inspection Office. He called me, and when I answered… he said you’ve been placed under investigation!”

I didn’t hear the rest. I dropped the terminal and stood there blankly, then collapsed onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck no.”

I’m screwed.

## Episode 7 – Daily Life -END-