Ch.15Chapter 3. Anyway, It Doesn’t Seem Like My Fault (End)

*****

Central Liberation Army Corps Secret Hideout.

The printer spat out documents without pause. Members were crossing out papers and arguing back and forth. After quite some time, Hans rang a small bell.

“Alright. What exactly is this guy’s identity? You’ve all had time to think about it, right? Let’s pool our wisdom. What kind of person are we dealing with?”

The same commotion from earlier erupted again. Hans didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying, just nodding as if he understood and writing each opinion on the blackboard.

The man monitoring the screens disliked this kind of “brainstorming.” He agreed with the principle that all decision-making should be transparent and open, but these sessions usually devolved into ignorant people showing off, whining, and nitpicking just to appear knowledgeable.

However, Hans was secretly relieved.

‘…The operation failed.’

To lose the bag.

It was an unforgivable, critical mistake. If Liberation Headquarters found out about this, Hans himself would be purged.

But he couldn’t just say, “Let’s go back in and retrieve the bag!” They didn’t have the resources to move troops carelessly under the military police’s strict surveillance.

Meanwhile, that seemingly clueless bag seller was boldly drawing in both the 8th Military Police and themselves. Hans regretted having humored the man so much, thinking he was just some fool.

‘He’s no ordinary person.’

But Hans hadn’t earned his position as Central Region Commander for nothing. When the true Elsa Liberation Headquarters was established someday, he would easily secure a position as Capital Defense Commander.

So he needed to turn this mistake into an opportunity. The fact that his opponent was no ordinary person would actually help with his cover.

“Alright. Enough. ENOUGH! Let’s focus, everyone. Good. First, let’s acknowledge what needs to be acknowledged. The bag explosion plan failed. But!”

“But?”

“That’s because of variables we couldn’t predict, not because there was anything wrong with our plan. The execution wasn’t problematic either. None of us wanted this outcome. Did you? No, right? How about you?”

“Of course not, Hans!”

“Please, I’m begging you, add ‘comrade’! I’m letting it slide because it’s me, but anywhere else you’d face immediate execution! Democratic is good, but hierarchy must be clear! Say it again.”

“Of course not, Comrade Hans!”

“That’s right!”

Hans spread his arms wide.

“This is all because of that unknown opponent. That clever friend who’s simultaneously asking intelligent and idiotic questions! This is exactly why identifying him is important. Did you see how skillfully he’s negotiating with the bag?”

“He’s extremely cunning!”

For some reason, everyone raised their fists as if chanting a chorus. Hans loved moments like this—when he felt he had everyone under his control.

“Now, look at the blackboard! As you all agree, this guy isn’t a spy from Eastern Römer. That’s obvious, right? Why would an Eastern agent ask about virus transmission!

Of course, the Eastern bastards are like nine-headed snakes, with their administrative agencies fighting each other, but they’re not this stupid and dull.

The next most common opinion is that he’s an information broker! But this can be easily refuted too. Taking the bag and running while Hut was gone? And then playing both us and the 8th Military Police? That’s too dangerous for a mere information broker.

Do you know what I even considered? That he might be one of our comrades! I secretly investigated whether someone from another region had snuck in and was operating here!”

“Comrade Hans, that seems a bit far-fetched. Someone from another region operating in our territory, sure, that could happen! We do it sometimes too. But how would that person take Hut’s bag? It doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for it.”

“That’s exactly my point!”

Hans pointed at the comrade who had raised the objection.

“It doesn’t make sense! Other branches are suffering from manpower shortages too, so why would they take someone else’s work when their performance is already suffering? What for? They’d get plenty of results just doing their own jobs well!

You all know this! But there’s a reason I’m telling you things you already know! Listen, I read in a book that the correct answer is what remains after you eliminate all the options that are definitely wrong! No matter how strange that one remaining option seems, that’s the truth!

As we know, this guy isn’t one of our operatives! He’s not an Eastern spy either! And he’s definitely not an information broker! So what could he be?”

“Then what is he? Are you saying he’s a spy sent from Minsk in the Western State?”

The sudden silence made the person who spoke up feel awkward. Hans stared at him blankly, then clapped his hands. Clap. Clap. Clap.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying! This guy is a spy from Minsk. Nothing else makes sense! The Western folks are also panicking about the zombie outbreak, but unlike Römer, which is practically a dictatorship, and Elsa, which is Römer’s puppet, they can’t implement regional lockdowns. The West is completely carved up by corporations!”

This was true. The Minsk Democratic Republic in the West was famous for its pro-corporate policies. The problem was that corporations were so powerful they practically controlled the state.

“The corporate bastards don’t even share information because they’re too busy securing their own interests. So what’s happening? The Minsk government has deployed spies. To gather information that Elsa and Römer have!

And while they’re at it, they want to weaken our forces by making us and the 8th Military Police fight each other. Everyone remembers, right? Although Römer occupies Elsa now, the first to invade Elsa was actually Minsk!”

Fortunately, the members seemed to be deeply considering Hans’s words. Thanks to this, the “bag operation failure” was now a thing of the past.

Turning crisis into opportunity—this was how Hans had survived all this time.

“…It seems a bit excessive, but okay. Let’s say he’s a Minsk spy. What do we do?”

“We need to make contact with him.”

Hans pointed to a map on the wall. The words “Lambert Village” were clearly marked.

“He has no food, no clothes. No comrades he can trust. But what if we go help him and take the bag on his behalf? We can gain his favor and retrieve the bag. Two birds with one stone.

Understand? We’re not going to get the bag. That’s just a bonus. Our main mission is to make contact with the Western spy.

I don’t know yet what we can do when we meet, but one thing is clear. The Western bastards hate us, but they hate Römer even more. If we show them our control over the human non-protected zones and bring Minsk in, we can escape Römer’s oppression.”

“But Minsk is suffering from the virus just the same.”

Someone raised an objection. Hans nodded, but not in agreement.

“That’s right. But what if… before Minsk collapses, Elsa and Römer collapse first?”

“…What?”

Even the man monitoring the screens looked up at Hans in surprise.

“Right now, the bag bombs are practically handmade. But what if we use Minsk’s industrial capacity to mass-produce them and carry out terrorist attacks in Elsa and Römer… wouldn’t that make things easier?”

“W-wait a minute, Hans. Are you talking about handing over the bag designs? To Minsk?”

The monitor man stood up in shock.

“Didn’t we agree to avoid unnecessary casualties? That’s the very foundation of our movement! And what you’re saying…”

“We don’t need to hand over the designs. We just need to arrange a meeting with ‘Folcrum.’ And about you, you keep forgetting to say ‘comrade’?”

“Comrade or whatever, that’s not what’s important! Folcrum? Did you just say Folcrum? Knowing what she means to us, you’re going to casually introduce her to a Minsk spy?”

Hans nodded as he opened his desk drawer. He took out a pistol, released the safety, and fired two shots at the monitor man.

“Oh.”

“I told you. Add ‘comrade.’ I might not get angry if you confuse ‘comrade’ with ‘friend,’ but I’ve said many times I’ll get angry if you don’t call me ‘comrade’ at all. Let’s respect what needs to be respected. Shall we?”

But the man had already breathed his last. Someone muttered a quiet complaint.

“Who’s going to monitor the screens now?”

“You will.”

Hans pointed his gun at the person who had spoken. The man nodded happily. Hans scratched his head with the end of the pistol.

“Alright. I’m recruiting a special forces team. When I count to three, the four slowest to raise their hands will be purged. Ready? One, two, three!”

Everyone raised their hands simultaneously and voluntarily.

“You’re all so loyal. Good. I’ll contact our potential client. Deputy commander, select four brave souls to go to Lambert.”

*****

Special Task Force Commander’s Office.

Despite her confident entrance, Leticia sat awkwardly.

A flower-shaped teacup sat on the newly replaced metal desk. Rose tea filled the white, elegant porcelain cup that seemed too precious to touch for fear of leaving fingerprints.

Leticia finally took a sip after Virginia gestured for her to do so. The aroma was pleasant, but the taste was bitter. She wanted to throw the cup away, it was so bitter.

‘The taste of nobility!’ It would need at least three sugar cubes, if sugar were available.

“Alright. I understand.”

Virginia finally hung up the phone. The commander sipped her tea elegantly, savoring the taste, which Leticia found astonishing.

“From my separate inquiries, there are no Western Minsk spies in this region. Those fools may be idiots, but they understand the concept of selection and concentration, so most are spread throughout urban areas. That eliminates one of your hypotheses. Do you smoke?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Virginia put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it with a lighter.

Leticia recognized the cigarette. It was extremely strong with no filter—a cheap brand that grandparents smoked. It was called “Hope.” Slowly burning away hope seemed like a perverse taste.

“Good. Leticia. It appears this V person is not a Western spy. Nor is he a Römer agent. He’s not an ordinary information broker, and he’s not an Elsa extremist terrorist either. Correct?”

“That’s right.”

“But according to this report that just came in, and your briefing… this person has a deep affection for Elsa itself.”

V is a patriot of Elsa. This was Leticia’s conclusion.

First, he cleverly induced military intervention in Lambert Village by provoking both terrorists and the military police.

Why?

Because he knew that emergency relief supplies and medical personnel meant for Hampton were being detained in Lambert Village. Moreover, he knew that the Römer and Elsa administrations had concealed this news and refused military orders.

In other words, this person was hinting that they should drive out the Lambert gangs and rescue the medical supplies and personnel. But he couldn’t openly state facts that even the government had concealed—facts that even the military police had just discovered—especially with terrorists watching.

Even with the bag, it’s the same. This person must have known the bag would be used for nefarious purposes. So he “voluntarily reported” the bag in the form of a “sale.”

“In principle, human non-protected zones are off-limits without administrative permission or military operations. That’s why humanitarian aid has been refused.

But it’s also a fact that citizens of Elsa live there. I believe this person is using the bag as hostage to urge the military police to intervene militarily.

If that’s the case, the possibilities narrow considerably.

Someone who loves and cares for Elsa more than anyone, but refrains from extreme methods. Someone who can obtain information from military leadership but lacks the power to directly move the Römer or Elsa administration or military.

Someone who opposes the extremists’ methods, yet is not a Western spy. The only possibility that remains is that he’s likely an intelligence agent from the Elsa Liberation moderate faction.

When the Elsa independent government disappeared, the Elsa intelligence department split in two. The radical faction became the foundation of the liberation movement, but the moderate faction completely disappeared. I believe this person is a member of that moderate faction.”

Virginia stood up. She looked out the window, silently smoking her cigarette, then flicked the ash outside. She stubbed it out on the windowsill and threw the butt outside.

“An Elsa loyalist who disappeared without a trace. Working in the shadows, but still striving for the country he loves… is that what you mean?”

“I can’t be 100% certain, but no other motive makes sense.”

“Then we need to capture this person.”

It sounded as easy as picking up the cigarette butt she had just thrown away.

“Commander, may I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“If he’s from the Elsa intelligence department’s moderate faction, his skill level won’t be low. Of course, our Special Task Force…”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

Virginia cut her off.

“The military police is both a military and police organization. Especially now, when we’re focused on stabilizing occupied territories. So capturing a spy from an intelligence department isn’t really appropriate work for the military police… is that what you wanted to say?”

“Of course, if you order it, I’ll develop a plan.”

“No. Your opinion is valuable.”

Virginia sat back down.

“It’s a question an intelligence officer should naturally raise. I also don’t think we can easily capture someone this cunning.”

Leticia nodded in agreement. It would be impolite to say directly, but while police can catch petty thieves or deserters, it’s difficult for them to capture well-trained spies. It’s better to enlist the help of counterintelligence agencies for such tasks.

“But my thinking is a bit different. There’s a saying about burning down the house to kill a flea. Conversely, if you burn down the house, you can also kill the flea. And if you’re going to put in the effort to kill a flea, burning the house is easier. Don’t you think?”

Flea? House? Something seemed off. Leticia blinked. The idiom didn’t seem quite right. But Virginia was completely serious.

“Well, setting fire to a house does take less effort.”

“I have no intention of chasing this person. We need to make him walk into our hands on his own.”

“How do you mean?”

“We need to threaten him.”

Leticia couldn’t follow this logic at all. Perhaps the commander was talking nonsense after staying up for two nights. That had to be it. Hadn’t she broken a desk just this morning?

But Virginia picked up the phone.

“Hello. Switchboard. Civilian call. Connect me to the Römer Parliament… It’s been a while. This is Helford. Yes. I’m doing fine. I’d like to ask the representative for a favor. Please provide two satellite monitoring channels and support from the Elsa Army Air Corps. I’ll submit the official documents. Yes. Thank you. I’ll pay my respects when I’m in the capital. Loyalty.”

As soon as the call ended, Virginia underlined something in the report.

“We’ve been allocated two more satellite monitoring channels. The report says the bag’s signal is weak and difficult to track, so use these to locate its position as best you can.”

‘That easily?’

Leticia felt a bit dizzy. The power of a noble family’s daughter was something beyond imagination.

“Ah, I understand. But the Air Corps…?”

“Didn’t I say we need to threaten him? He’s not going to walk in barefoot. And threats work better with more firepower. I’ll call you again after I finish talking with the Air Corps, so go attend to your duties for now. On your way out, give this to Redeker.”

Virginia quickly wrote a memo and handed it over. ‘Purchase 20 additional single-person cages. Make them sturdy. But they must be connectable in pairs.’

“Get ten prisoners from the detention company. Those who have violated military discipline like disobeying orders, desertion, refusing instructions. The unit’s discipline is a mess overall and needs to be fixed.”

“Understood. What about the other ten…?”

“We’ll fill them with zombies.”

“Understood.”

Leticia stood up without asking twice. She had no desire to end up in a cage connected to zombies.

Alone again in the office.

Virginia took a deep drag from her Hope cigarette.

“Whatever it is, it will fall into my hands.”