Ch.166Episode 9 – Old Fashioned

# The Commute is Every Office Worker’s Nemesis

Jake passed through the main entrance of the Jumma Tower Abbas Representative Office, punching in for work with that pointless thought in mind.

Despite having what others envied—an overseas posting with the prestigious title of diplomat—after working for several months, Jake thought: this really isn’t worth doing either.

“Ah, I don’t want to go to work…”

“Are you starting with that again?”

A familiar voice reached his ears. A welcome one, too.

Jake waved to his colleague who appeared through the door.

“Oh, Pippin. Did you get in early?”

Pippin, who was shuffling along like an undead, responded with a weak nod. She looked less like a person and more like a zombie.

If she had let her hair down in disarray, she would have been mistaken for a madwoman.

“You should be asking when I left work, not when I arrived…”

“When did you leave work?”

“Two days ago.”

“Oh dear.”

## Episode 9 – Old Fashioned

No wonder her dark circles extended all the way to her chin.

“Why couldn’t you leave?”

“Work piled up…”

“Analysis?”

“Yeah…”

The chronic disease of all intelligence agencies is a shortage of personnel. And this manpower shortage is most severe in information analysis.

Intelligence piles up like mountains every day, but analyzing it remains a human task.

While intelligence collection is by no means easy, the problem is that supply can’t keep up with demand. In intelligence agencies, they call this the information flood phenomenon.

Of course, one might ask if hiring more people would solve the problem, but honestly, that’s difficult too. It takes time to train competent analysts. Industry wisdom suggests it takes about three to five years. When you factor in people who drop out during training, transfer departments, or resign, cultivating analysts becomes quite challenging.

So Jake could only click his tongue in sympathy.

“Want some help?”

“That would be great…”

Jake entered the office with Pippin and sat at his desk, opening his terminal.

On the bluish screen, intelligence collected from the Military Intelligence Bureau’s Matap branch and other nearby branches, the Foreign Ministry, Royal Intelligence Service, Treasury, and Interior Ministry was being updated in real-time. Jake rubbed his sleepy eyes as he looked at the flood of incoming intelligence.

Reports stated that a dozen people had frozen to death in “Mazdanskaya” in northern Latuan Principality due to an unusual cold wave; Rushan Federal Kingdom’s state-owned enterprises and Fatalia’s major corporations had entered a bidding war for a large-scale project commissioned by Matap; Kiyen Imperial troops were spotted being redeployed to the north, seemingly in preparation for an offensive, and so on… Nothing but negative news.

Just as he had a feeling that this winter might be harsh again…

Pippin approached with a steaming mug.

“Drink this while you work.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Jake accepted the coffee mug and drank with Pippin. Though it was coffee loaded with sugar, neither of them was drinking it for the taste but rather to help them work, so they didn’t mind much.

Pippin sipped her share of coffee and perched on the desk.

“What are you looking at?”

“News from the Empire. I might have to be dispatched there soon.”

“Ah. I heard they’ve had many freezing deaths recently? Seems like the unusual climate and the closure of northern mines have combined to cause heating supply issues.”

“The northern mines—aren’t those for coal and magic stones? Why were they closed?”

“Probably because of the demon folk. They’re in the middle of fighting right now.”

“The war situation must be difficult. They even sent tanks north last time.”

The two chatted while replenishing their caffeine as usual.

“Pippin, do you know anyone in the Empire? Any juniors or colleagues?”

“I know some seniors who were in charge of the Empire. But they weren’t dispatched overseas. They were intelligence analysts working from home.”

“I don’t have close contacts there either… Sigh…”

Jake put down his mug and leaned back in his chair. The bright white lighting irritated his eyes, but he didn’t mind.

“Why not ask the section chief?”

“The Major?”

Right. That person existed.

Having worked in the notoriously tough Empire for three years, and having been in the field from day one, he likely knew something.

The problem was…

“We can’t reach him.”

“…That’s true.”

Everyone avoids answering work calls when on vacation, but without even a call to confirm arrival, they had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

Moreover, he had more than ten phone numbers, but none of them connected. What was the point of buying all those SIM cards? It was puzzling where he learned such behavior. He seemed slightly paranoid.

“I’ll visit him when I go on leave. He’s returning home this week.”

“Good idea.”

Pippin and Jake sighed deeply in the office again today.

“Sigh…”

“…Haah.”

And at that moment.

A former Intelligence Command, current Military Intelligence Bureau officer recovering at a Defense Ministry-owned hotel remembered something he had forgotten.

“…Ah.”

I burned all my SIM cards.

*

While pondering why Pippin and Jake weren’t contacting me, it suddenly occurred to me that they had no means to reach me.

I hadn’t even activated my phone, had destroyed all the SIM cards I carried during operations, and had submitted the secure terminal issued by the Military Intelligence Bureau immediately upon returning home. Moreover, I wasn’t staying in official quarters but in a hotel in the southeast.

In other words, they couldn’t contact me even if they wanted to. They didn’t know where I was.

So I immediately contacted the Military Intelligence Bureau to inquire about Pippin and Jake.

-‘Pippin and Jake… It says they’re on overseas assignment, is that correct?’

“Yes. The military attaché office at the Matap Representative Office.”

-‘It shows they’re currently in Matap. They seem to be returning home on leave this Thursday. Should I contact the attaché office?’

“Please do that.”

I sent word to the Abbas Representative Office in Matap where Pippin and Jake were stationed. I heard the kids are returning home this Thursday. If the timing works out, I could go up to the capital to meet them.

Living without a phone leads to situations like this.

I finished the call and lay back down on the bed. Then I pondered.

Am I forgetting things because life is tough lately? Even so, I should at least have some means of contact. Should I activate a phone? But I don’t have money in my account right now. Klevins mentioned giving me a medal—does that come with a reward? How should I contact my family? When will the performance bonus come? Will I be fired since I was disciplined? Surely the medal won’t be taken away just because I was unofficially referred to the disciplinary committee. I don’t want to ask acquaintances for help. Should I take out a loan?

As these thoughts swirled, I suddenly felt a sense of despair. How did I end up like this?

My bank account is empty, my health is ruined, I have stress-induced hair loss and stomach pain. My relationship with my family has grown distant, prices are rising while my salary remains stagnant. Not only that, I’m constantly traveling abroad without proper vacation time. And now I’ve even been disciplined, albeit unofficially.

I’d like to transfer to an office position, but the higher-ups won’t allow it. I don’t know the exact period, but I’ll have to work in the field for at least five more years. It might even be ten years.

“…Fifteen days.”

Looking at the calendar, I had 15 days of vacation left. It’s now 11:18 PM. In 42 minutes, it will be 14 days.

The committee… that is, the higher-ups gave me a month, so I should start preparing mentally. Whether they call, write, or send someone, they’ll ask if I’ve made a decision. Decision is just a formality. It essentially means stop resting, start getting your affairs in order, and prepare to take on a new position.

“…Ugh.”

“Why are you groaning like an old man when getting up from bed? You’re still young.”

“Because I’m in pain?”

Despite my words, nothing actually hurt. My fingers wouldn’t move freely, but there was no pain, and my wounds had healed long ago. I was just a bit tired.

“Are your fingers feeling better, Major?”

I tried moving my fingers slightly. My stiff thumb was still difficult to move, but it was much more flexible than before.

Compared to when they could barely wiggle like caterpillars, this was tremendous progress.

“They’re much better. Thank you, Saint.”

“You should thank my sister for that, not me. Anyway, I’m glad there’s no problem.”

As Veronica said, the person who helped heal my fingers was Lucia.

It was Lucia who brought the bed used by the High Priest, and Lucia who procured holy water and various sacred objects.

To be precise, she requested them from the State Council with the help of Veronica, who was adept at administration (or rather, at pressuring cardinals and bishops).

I heard that sacred relics, objects, and holy water are all difficult items to remove from their locations. Items like incense burners from cathedrals, basins from monasteries specializing in healing, holy water drawn from religiously significant sources and then consecrated, and so on…

Each one is nothing short of top-tier. They’re priceless, literally.

Of course, it might be inappropriate to assign terms like “high-end” or “value” to religious items, but according to Veronica, these were “items that would be difficult to obtain even if you offered gold equal to the weight of an adult man.”

“Do you know how hard it was to get those? My sister went through quite a lot of trouble.”

“Is that so?”

“They said these items were meant for royalty and nobility and were difficult to release. I had to raise hell and tell them to just dilute the holy water, and we barely got them.”

“…Diluting holy water? Isn’t that fraud—”

“Shh. As long as we keep quiet, no one will know.”

“……”

Veronica covered her lips with her finger and smiled brightly. Is she truly insane?

“Anyway, since my sister prepared everything with such difficulty, make sure you receive the treatment well. If it drags on, it’ll only burden her.”

“Yes.”

Honestly, it seemed like Veronica deserved most of the credit for reviving my fingers, but since she was attributing it to Lucia, I just went along with it.

Whatever works.

“And stop complaining about being tired all the time. Why is a young person like you so frail?”

“Um… because work is tough…?”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you in either the Imperial Guard or the Inquisition. What do you do instead of sleeping?”

“……”

I couldn’t bring myself to mention my insomnia, so I just awkwardly changed the subject.

“Maybe it’s because I’m almost in my thirties?”

At the sudden mention of age, Veronica glanced at me with a displeased expression.

“Making such a fuss over that.”

“What? Oh, by the way, Saint Veronica, your age is…”

Instantly, Veronica’s face transformed like a monster bursting through the gates of hell. Sensing I had touched her sore spot, I firmly shut my mouth.

“Major, if you mention age one more time, I’ll kill you. Understood?”

“Yes.”

*

After that small incident, time flew by quickly.

Camilla, Francesca, and Lucia spent their time doing their own tasks, dedicating time to learning or practicing something. I used every means necessary to pressure Veronica into completing her overdue official duties.

After two days and nights passed like that…

We left our beloved retreat and headed up to the capital.

“You could have stayed there longer, why…”

“Vacation’s ending soon. Rather than rushing up at the last minute, isn’t it better to come early and rest?”

“There’s still almost two weeks left, you know?”

The truth is, there was nothing more to do.

As nice as vacation is, just playing around in a hotel without doing anything was starting to make me restless. All four of us felt the same way, so we returned much earlier than planned.

Of course, there was Camilla’s training. But training could be done in the capital, and all the professional military training facilities were gathered near the capital anyway.

And…

Both Lucia and Francesca said they needed something in the capital and should go up there. So naturally, we returned to the capital.

“What exactly do you need that requires going all the way to the capital?”

“Well… you might find out someday.”

I don’t actually know what it is, but that’s how it turned out.

“Then we should part ways here.”

“You make it sound like we’ll never see each other again.”

“What kind of joke is that, Saint? Please go now, people are waiting. Look, the embassy staff are over there.”

“I’ll see you again soon. We still need to continue your treatment… Do you remember the hotel location?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be late. We’ll be going now.”

“See you later, Major.”

“Saint Veronica, just go straight to the church instead of coming back.”

“…Tch.”

Lucia, Veronica, and Francesca disappeared, receiving protocol from the diplomats who had come to meet them. Watching secretaries moving luggage and consul-level diplomats holding car doors open gave me a strange feeling.

The cars carrying the three of them left the train station and disappeared somewhere. They would head to diplomatic missions and then gather at a 5-star hotel provided by the government.

I gathered my luggage and began walking through the capital’s streets as the sun set.

I wasn’t alone.

“Where are we going?”

“I wonder.”

Camilla was beside me. Having undergone some intense training over the past few days, she looked slightly thinner and a bit tired. Was the train ride that exhausting?

“Are you tired?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should have gone ahead with the church or tower people earlier. I told you I don’t have a car and have to walk.”

“Come on. You’re joking, right? Who doesn’t have a car here? I found statistics showing over 70% of people commute by car…”

“……”

“You really don’t have one?”

“……”

Camilla looked at me with a shocked expression.

She looked like a child who just discovered Santa Claus doesn’t exist.

“Why don’t you have one…?”

“I commute from official quarters. Public transportation takes only 30 minutes.”

“But still, as a civil servant who regularly changes departments, you should have a vehicle…”

“I mainly go overseas. Even when abroad, vehicle tax, insurance, parking fees, and maintenance costs still accumulate. I didn’t buy one because it seemed wasteful.”

“…Oh.”

Just because you’re dispatched overseas doesn’t mean the company covers your vehicle maintenance costs. Everyone just sets up automatic payments before leaving.

“I used to set up automatic payments when I went on overseas assignments. Now I have to pay each one manually…”

Hearing this, Camilla seemed to find it absurd and said:

“The welfare benefits are poor. I guess there’s no union either.”

“French intelligence agencies have unions and even go on strike. It’s hard to find such culture in other countries, whether Eastern or Western…”

“Then do you have family or friends coming to pick you up?”

“Um… probably not.”

“They don’t have time to pick you up?”

“No. They probably don’t even know I’m on vacation. I rarely keep in touch with them.”

“……”

Camilla’s eyes turned sympathetic.

A YouTube video of soldiers being enthusiastically welcomed home after overseas deployment flashed through my mind, but unfortunately, that had nothing to do with me. Despite frequenting Incheon and Gimpo airports for nearly a decade while working for intelligence, I had never experienced such a moment. The Military Intelligence Bureau was no different.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m some homeless person…”

“When did I look at you that way!”

“Never mind then…”

Tired, we decided to sit on a bench and rest for a while. It had been exhausting traveling across half of Abbas’s territory by car and train.

I weakly patted my thighs and broke the silence.

“Haah… In the old days, I could cross a desert by car for a week with just 4-hour naps and still be fine. I don’t understand why I’m so tired after just a few hours on a train.”

“Deserts are tough. Watching the scenery not change for hours while driving made me sick.”

“Terrible, aren’t they? Deserts.”

Having stayed in the Middle East for a long time, the memories are still vivid. Though they’re nearly 30 years old, they sometimes feel like they happened yesterday.

The endless desert. The scorching heat. The sunlight and sandstorms that prickle your skin. The wildly shaking unpaved roads.

The armed checkpoints encountered when crossing borders. From a distance, you wouldn’t notice, but up close, you’d realize the checkpoint guards aren’t government military or police, but tribal soldiers.

The first thing an armed tribal soldier does is release the safety catch. If they’re wary of white people in the middle of the Middle East, imagine how they feel about Asians. When a soldier approaches and taps on the window, there’s always a phrase that follows the greeting: show me your papers.

When you hand over the documents, the soldier examines them. Of course, I have to divert my attention elsewhere after handing over the papers. That’s how intelligence collection begins.

What’s the condition of the checkpoint? How are the troops guarding it armed? Just by looking at the troops’ equipment, you can roughly see what kind of tendencies the warlord has.

Those who focus on the royal guard,

Those who are thoroughly corrupt,

Those who want to hide their military power,

Those obsessed with showing off,

Those who move independently or are plotting a coup.

The most troublesome situation is when those who were briefed as “these guys don’t invest in weapons or equipment” come out well-dressed to greet you. It’s a fucked situation. It means they knew in advance who was visiting and why.

By roughly matching the information in your head with what you see, you get an answer. The company trains you to do this, and that’s what you have to do in the field. After doing this for a few months, you get used to it. Eventually, it happens automatically without even thinking about it.

“……”

The time spent in the Middle East flashed before me like a panorama. Damascus, Raqqa, Kabul, Islamabad, Miram Shah, Baghdad, Tehran, Mosul, Beirut…

Speaking of Beirut, I remembered something. One night while sleeping in a hotel arranged by a local intelligence officer, some madman loaded a car with explosives and detonated it in the city center. I was startled by the explosion that occurred a few blocks away. I even called American and Israeli friends that dawn to ask if they were conducting airstrikes.

At that moment, I thought I was going to die helplessly at the hands of the Israeli Air Force.

But when daylight came, a senior colleague working at the embassy told me I had just experienced a proper initiation and invited me to go eat.

That was my first Middle East assignment.

“……”

While sitting lost in thought, someone tapped my shoulder. It was Camilla.

She was looking at me with a worried expression.

She asked:

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

“…It’s nothing. Just thinking for a moment.”

The conversation thread was cut. I had nothing more to say, so I remained silent, and Camilla just stared at me.

Finding her gaze too burdensome, I broke the silence with an unexpected question.

“Uh, um… Camilla. My next assignment will probably be to the Empire, so how about we research it in advance?”

“Suddenly? You’re asking me to work without any context. Get a grip. We’re on vacation. Who thinks about work during leisure time? Seriously.”

I do.

But fearing it would ruin the mood, I changed the subject.

“Um… so, where should we go now?”

“I’ve been asking that all along. What do you want to do?”

“Um… right…?”

I wanted to go to the official quarters or townhouse to rest. Unpack, take a shower. But if I went there, Camilla would likely follow. She was essentially homeless right now.

But going to a hotel was also problematic.

We had just spent over two weeks playing around in a hotel until a few hours ago. Going to another hotel? That didn’t seem right.

The hotel is no longer a place of rest. Since the government assigned me to handle matters related to Camilla, Veronica, Lucia, and Francesca, I’m essentially a state-designated servant. I have to attend to them, provide security, and handle all sorts of annoying chores.

Still, it wasn’t bad since none of them made unreasonable requests or acted entitled…

Honestly, I just want to rest comfortably now.

So…

What should I do now?

“……”

One thing was certain.

I’m craving a drink.

“You want to drink?”

“I was planning to drink alone.”

“Let’s go together!”

“……”

Camilla jumped up and started urging me to guide her. She pushed my back, shouting that we should quickly find a place that sells special and exotic drinks like butter beer.

Pushed by her insistence, I ended up searching for a bar with her.

=

The “gang seonheun” (강선흔) briefly mentioned in the previous chapter is actually used in forensic science. It’s a time-honored investigation method that began in the 1960s.