Ch.265Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

“Juan Pablo Martinez. 46-year-old male. Fatalia national from the Republic of Nicario. After graduating from the Academy, worked as an adventurer on the Moritani continent. Appointed as a Magic Tower civil servant 15 years ago. Currently a Planning Coordinator in the Secretariat Bureau. No family, and all his friends are civil servants…”

Swoosh!

Papers scatter like a curling stone sliding across ice.

“What’s the status on the background check on this bastard?”

Pippin hesitantly raised his hand. The analyst, with a pen wedged between his index, middle finger, and thumb, fluttered the papers and answered.

“According to our informant’s report, there are about six people currently maintaining close relationships with Martinez in the north. All of them are Secretariat Bureau civil servants who have been dispatched to the northern region.”

“Anything else?”

Jake uncrossed his legs.

“I’ve investigated his lifestyle patterns, eating habits, and health conditions.”

When I reached out my hand, a document was promptly placed on it. I began reading through Jake’s report while he briefed the findings.

“With help from our intelligence officers stationed at the Magic Tower, we’ve secured medical records of Martinez and other subjects. As you can see here, they all suffer from various ailments, mainly issues with the liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. Some also have high blood pressure or digestive problems.”

“What’s the cause?”

“Stress, according to the reports. Poor eating habits too.”

Jake shrugged and added:

“Isn’t that just typical modern ailments? Working overtime constantly and getting sick because of it.”

At that moment, Pippin, who was organizing documents, flinched.

“Isn’t that… describing us?”

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician in History

After Leoni’s orders came down, we became incredibly busy without a moment to breathe.

Based on the information obtained through Francesca, I reviewed the operation with my subordinates.

“I looked through the documents, and I noticed they’re all suffering from various illnesses.”

I searched for assassination methods using the compiled information.

“Poisoning that exploits their illnesses. What do you think?”

“Hmm…”

Pippin nodded thoughtfully with his arms crossed.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

The analyst began analyzing the targets’ situations.

“According to medical records, the targets designated by the company are suffering from various ailments. Liver, gallbladder, pancreas, heart rate, digestive capacity… Stress is the cause, but with such conditions, their immunity must be significantly compromised.”

The first plan was assassination by poison—specifically, poisoning food while considering their existing health conditions.

Stress, chronic illness, and eating habits have significant effects on the body. The most directly affected organs are the liver, gallbladder, pancreas, cardiovascular system, and digestive system.

These are precisely the organs that suffer direct damage when toxic substances are ingested.

“Even a low lethal dose of poison would be sufficiently threatening in their condition. Their health issues have lowered their resistance to toxins. I think there’s potential here.”

Additionally, using a poison with a lower lethal dose would make investigative agencies more likely to attribute the death to health issues rather than assassination.

In other words, choosing the first operation plan increases the probability of plausible deniability and allows the intelligence officers executing the operation to easily escape investigation.

Pippin evaluated the first operation plan positively.

“I disagree.”

Jake, sitting across from Pippin, abruptly interjected.

“Poisoning is a high-success assassination method. But for this approach to work, there are too many factors to consider.”

Jake tapped the documents in front of him.

“Poisoning is primarily used because it prevents collateral damage, increases success rates, and makes the situation easier to control. But right now, there’s no situation where the targets could ingest poison, is there?”

The key to poisoning is getting the target to swallow the poison, whether voluntarily or involuntarily.

Like drinking a beverage left momentarily unattended after intense exercise when feeling thirsty, or habitually enjoying whiskey kept in a cabinet every day.

People have different lifestyle patterns and habits, and intelligence agencies actively exploit these elements during assassinations.

Jake pointed out exactly this issue.

“Secretariat Bureau magicians frequently work outside the office. Their duties and areas of activity change constantly, so there’s no way to administer poison. They eat at different restaurants every day, and they either get water from outside like everyone else or use water purifiers—how can we assassinate them?”

After the intelligence officer’s rebuttal, the analyst crossed his arms with a contemplative look.

“What about putting something in the water purifier?”

“The Secretariat Bureau isn’t the only one using water purifiers. What if an innocent person drinks the poison? How would we handle that?”

“Then what about obtaining their schedules in advance and bribing restaurant staff?”

“We’d need to know which restaurant they’ll eat at to bribe anyone. If you’re determined to poison them, we need to create the right situation ourselves.”

I pulled over some documents and bluntly stated:

“Do you have alternatives? Using anything other than poison in the current situation is too risky.”

“If you want poisoning, there are many other methods.”

“List them. More options make it easier to review.”

At this point, Jake offered an alternative.

“What about switching out the medications or supplements they’re taking?”

The second operation plan was still poisoning, but with a slightly different approach.

Mixing poison into food or drinks carries the risk of accidents. The target might share food or pour drinks into glasses for others, causing unintended victims to ingest the poison.

For this reason, intelligence agencies generally avoid putting poison in shared dishes like stews or hot pots.

But medication is different.

“Medications are usually taken only by the person they’re prescribed to, so there’s no chance of civilians unrelated to the operation dying. The same goes for supplements. If the assassination target has cardiovascular issues, administering certain drugs instead of poison could lead to death, couldn’t it?”

“People with high blood pressure can certainly be in serious trouble if they take the wrong medication.”

Of course, there are many other methods.

We could sneak into a hospital room when a Secretariat Bureau employee is receiving an IV drip and switch the medication to disguise it as a medical accident, or release poisonous creatures while they’re asleep. Putting two or three venomous snakes in a bucket, shaking it vigorously, and then throwing it onto their bed would result in the agitated snakes biting arms, legs, or face indiscriminately.

However, none of these methods guarantees perfect success.

Pippin expressed concerns.

“If we miscalculate the drug dosage, the assassination could fail. And to find out where the target keeps their medications or supplements, we’d need to infiltrate their quarters directly. Above all, assassinations using poison leave traces that show up in autopsies, so if Imperial investigative agencies analyze the composition of the drugs and supplements, our involvement would be quickly exposed.”

“We could make it look like someone who had a grudge against them did it.”

“But sir, then we’d have to create alibis for those people too.”

“You think I don’t know that? Just continue discussing. More options are better for review, and this isn’t our operation anyway.”

Jake, flipping through documents, snickered.

“Let’s just switch the medications. If they die after taking them, we can just deny knowing anything about it. We’re only providing information; other staff will carry out the operation. Besides, it hasn’t even been decided whether to assassinate them yet, has it?”

“Well…”

I took out a medicine bottle from the cabinet and tossed it to Jake.

“Here.”

“What’s this? Isn’t this yours, sir?”

“Yes, it’s my painkiller.”

The bottle contained painkillers—prescribed by a doctor to Lucia on my behalf while I was unconscious.

I pointed to the lid of the painkiller bottle.

“Look closely.”

“…?”

Jake narrowed his eyes to examine the lid. Pippin, who had been taking notes with a pen, also leaned in next to Jake to check the lid.

The white lid of the painkiller bottle had a tiny line drawn on it—so subtle that it would be impossible to notice unless looking very closely.

“What’s this line? It doesn’t look like a perforation.”

“I drew it.”

“What? Why would you do that, sir?”

“In case someone secretly opens it to switch the medication.”

I gestured toward the medicine bottle that Jake and Pippin were holding.

“If any of our assassination targets have taken precautions like this, the operation would be completely foiled. I wouldn’t be surprised if all high-ranking company executives do this. They all have plenty of people who want them dead…”

“……”

Pippin looked at me with a sour expression. Jake, who had been examining the bottle, suddenly chuckled.

“Sir, I hate to say this, but you have a strange personality. Do you perhaps have a mental illness?”

“This punk has lost his mind. How dare you ask your superior if he’s mentally ill.”

“Jake…”

I kicked Jake’s shin with my shoe, and Pippin looked at the jumping Jake with contempt.

Just then, Charnoi, returning from fieldwork, raised something high and shouted:

“Everyone look at this…!”

It was a large glass jar filled with glossy, shiny candies.

“On the way back to the hotel, Lucianoi gave Charnoi candy… Truly a nymph-friendly act…! Charnoi is in a good mood, so as a welfare measure, everyone gets one candy…!”

The excited Charnoi took a handful of candies from the jar and distributed them to Pippin and Jake. Pippin thanked him and patted his head, while Jake, still rubbing his shin, popped a candy into his mouth with tears in his eyes.

As I was preparing to send the compiled data to the embassy, Charnoi, who had distributed candies to my subordinates, trotted over to me.

“Fredricknoi should have one too…!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Ah!”

Charnoi, who was offering me candy, suddenly exclaimed as if remembering something and looked up at me.

“Come to think of it, Lucianoi was looking for you… You should go see her right away…”

“……”

I put the candy Charnoi gave me into my mouth. The sweetness hit immediately.

Feeling the sweetness that made my tongue tingle, I packed a gun, magazine, and a knife from my bag.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

Pippin, who had been chatting with Charnoi, poked his head out.

“Where are you going?”

I answered while turning the doorknob.

“To work.”

*

If you exit the hotel and walk toward the back entrance, you’ll come to a small alley.

In the shadowy part of the metropolis—where even the brilliant night view doesn’t reach, obscured by skyscrapers—Lucia was waiting.

“You called for me?”

As I slightly raised my head, golden hair like molten gold cascaded down from beneath a snow-white cloak.

“You’re here. I met the nymph on my way, and it seems you’ve heard the news.”

“Please try not to be seen by others. Nothing good comes from people knowing that the Saint and I are moving separately.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“I’m cautioning you.”

“I’ll take it as such. Thank you for the advice.”

Lucia answered with a slight smile.

She approached, carrying a heavy wooden box under her arm and a small bag over her shoulder, looking around as if conscious of being watched.

“Today is our first day, so there’s no need to push ourselves. How much time can you spare?”

“I can move around for about two hours. If there’s no contact from the Military Governor, I can stay out for another hour.”

“Not very generous, but we should be able to cover one city thoroughly. Oh, and I’ve prepared what you asked for.”

Lucia handed me some papers and several passports she took from her possession. They were church passports and northern transit permits bearing the clear seals of the Papal Office and the Imperial Military Government.

I collected the passports and permits and said quietly:

“Let’s go. To find the demon.”