Ch.336Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

One day, the Heavenly God gathered his three disciples and asked them.

‘Who do you think I am?’

To this, the first disciple, who counted the stars, answered.

‘You are the shield of faith, the scales that restore heavenly order, and our judge who upholds the law.’

The second disciple, who recorded the teachings, answered.

‘You are the light that illuminates the world, the lamp that drives away evil thoughts, and our teacher who expounds wisdom.’

After hearing the answers of the two disciples, the Heavenly God closed his sunken eyes and shook his head.

Then the third disciple, who carved stone, answered.

‘You are the Creator of all things, the one who embraces us with love, our living Father.’

To this, the Heavenly God smiled and said:

‘Truly right. I will build my cathedral upon your rock. And I shall entrust you with the keys to heaven, so that you may turn away from me those who flatter with their lips and speak falsehoods with their tongues, those who have faith but no deeds, those who do not truly come to me.’

This passage is one of the important foundations that explains and legitimizes the rights of the Pope.

Confession of faith is a priority element in all religions. The third disciple, who received the keys to heaven through sincere confession of faith, ascended to the position of Pope.

Later, the three disciples became the founders of each sect, but conflicts between the sects never ceased.

During the period when the winds of religious reformation swept across the continent, immediately after the council failed, the Pope resolved the conflict by exterminating the followers of the two sects.

Today, the clergy sell holy offices. Faith has been corrupted, and religion has been tainted by secularism. Clerics who criticize this are arrested by inquisitors of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, regardless of their position.

I ask the Pope who has lost his rock:

Does one who has killed his brothers, children of the same Father, deserve to hold the keys to heaven?

– Declaration of a prominent bishop and theologian who advocated for religious reform (1546.11.10-1590.02.18. While being elected as Pope with the support of the bishops and cardinals, he was brought before the Inquisition and sentenced to death. The sentence was carried out the same day by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith)

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

Camilla’s eating spree finally stopped after demolishing two and a half pizzas, one whole chicken, and three bags of snacks.

“Are you back to your senses?”

“Urgh…”

I patted Camilla’s back as she lay sprawled on the sofa.

Not content with devouring the generous breakfast I had prepared, she had spent her own money on takeout food, only to end up looking deathly pale shortly after.

“I told you to eat in moderation.”

“I know…”

“Why on earth did you eat so much?”

Camilla opened her mouth with difficulty, her face ashen.

“The meals provided at the lodgings and by the military were inadequate. I occasionally got food from Lucia, but the meals from the cathedral weren’t tasty…”

For the past few months, Camilla had been staying in the north.

The imperial government provided accommodation and meals to entertain their distinguished guest. The best lodgings, meals made with local ingredients—everything was supposedly top-tier.

The problem was that this “top-tier” standard was based on the north, not the entire empire.

The north is a conflict zone under martial law.

Although the Imperial-Magical Realm conflict was the empire’s greatest concern—enough for the crown prince to demand the military end it—the attention of high officials alone couldn’t improve the devastated northern situation.

While hotel rooms were in relatively good condition thanks to urgent repairs by the administration and military government, the military could do little about the meals.

Dry, lusterless bread, cold and tough fried food, cream reminiscent of full moons, and withered meat—it was high-calorie human fodder that only resembled food in appearance.

Of course, the imperial government wasn’t completely heartless. They tried to provide quality meals at least once every three days, sending banquets prepared by imperial chefs with preservation magic.

However, Camilla wasn’t stationed at the hotel in the rear but was active on the front lines.

With the transportation network destroyed, even combat units weren’t properly supplied, let alone providing decent meals on the front lines.

The imperial government did try to deliver carefully prepared banquets for Camilla to the front lines, but how easy is it to send a food truck into a battlefield where bullets are flying? In the bitter cold, it wasn’t just Camilla who was hungry—the monsters in the forest were too.

The moment the aroma of the banquet spread, everyone knew a “buster call” would begin. It felt wrong to retreat to the rear just for a meal, and it was awkward to ask the people who had traveled hundreds of kilometers to deliver the banquet to be more discreet about the menu’s smell.

In the end, Camilla had to eat more frequently from the meals prepared by the units conducting operations locally. Otherwise, she had to make do with combat rations procured by the Imperial Defense Ministry at the lowest price or frozen food from the PX.

It was no wonder Camilla would visit the cathedral to see Lucia and eat there first.

What happens when you feed someone who loves food a rotation of mass-produced cafeteria meals, combat rations, and frozen food?

“So you’ve been eating non-stop for a week?”

“Yes…”

“That’s quite an achievement.”

I looked at Camilla with the expression of a drill sergeant facing a senior soldier who had gone AWOL.

Finding my gaze unbearable, Camilla burrowed into the blanket.

“I brought digestive medicine, so take it.”

“Thank you…”

“Good grief, you troublemaker.”

I really can’t deal with this.

*

About ten days had passed since Camilla and I started living under the same roof.

We were staying in a townhouse located in the capital of Abas. The very townhouse owned by the Nostrum family.

“How did you come to own a place like this? It looks really expensive.”

“I didn’t buy it.”

“Then?”

“It was a gift.”

The townhouse in the capital was originally one of the properties owned by my maternal family.

A long time ago, when my mother, who served as a royal lady-in-waiting to the crown princess (now queen), married my father, the ownership was transferred.

“My grandfather—my mother’s father—gave this townhouse to his son-in-law as a wedding gift. Since both my parents worked in the capital, he gave it to them so they wouldn’t have to commute from far away.”

“Working in the capital? What were their jobs…?”

“My father is a civil servant in the Treasury Department, and my mother is a royal lady-in-waiting. They met while my mother was coming and going from the palace.”

“Wow!”

Camilla was impressed by the romantic love story of the Nostrum family.

It was certainly an age-appropriate reaction. Having regained her vitality after taking the digestive medicine, she began asking about my parents’ past with keen interest.

“Are you close with your parents? What kind of people are they?”

“Not particularly close.”

“Oh, why not?”

I answered nonchalantly.

“I didn’t see them much when I was young.”

“Ah…”

While civil service jobs are said to offer work-life balance, that varies case by case.

Military, police, firefighting, and intelligence agencies are notorious for their murderous workloads, but other government agencies aren’t much different.

Typical examples are prosecutors and judges. Occasionally when visiting the National Intelligence Service, I would encounter prosecutors dispatched from the Ministry of Justice who would complain that their colleagues from the Judicial Research and Training Institute routinely worked overtime on weekdays and came in on weekends.

The adults in the Nostrum family were in a similar situation.

“My father, who worked at the Treasury Department, at least had weekends off, but he couldn’t come to our main house. It would take a whole day to travel from the provinces to the capital and back. During budget season, he couldn’t even leave work.”

“…”

“My mother, who worked at the royal palace, was no better. Since she could be called by the royal family at any time, she commuted from her quarters. If the couple couldn’t even see each other, what about the children? So whenever we had school breaks, we would all take the train to the capital to see our parents.”

“So, it sounds like you were close with your siblings…?”

Close with my siblings?

I chuckled and responded.

“With parents absent from home, we were certainly tight-knit. But can children really control other children?”

Getting upset because older siblings ate all the delicious food, yelling to stop playing because they had to do academy homework—the childhood of the Nostrum siblings was quite a spectacle.

Fighting every day and causing trouble, the butlers and nannies were exhausted, and our parents’ hearts were breaking while commuting from the capital with the children separated.

When Ayla bit her sister Adela for taking her toy, our parents actually warped home. For a week after that, the Nostrum couple seriously discussed whether one of them should resign and stay at the main house.

I was probably the only one who heard that conversation.

Recalling those days, I concluded:

“It was a mess, really.”

Camilla was at a loss for words as the Nostrum family’s private history was laid bare.

She seemed to realize she had overstepped. Flustered, she began to stammer.

“T-t-that…”

Her Cambridge-educated brain quickly shifted gears. Carefully choosing her words, Camilla hastily changed the direction of the conversation.

“Then what was your relationship with your parents like?”

“I just told you.”

“No, not that. Your original relationship with your parents.”

“…”

At this second question about my family history, I paused briefly.

My body was in the townhouse, but my mind drifted to a small official residence.

The living room of the musty, moldy residence. Early dawn. Dad, dressed in a formal suit, fixing his badge to his collar.

A pentagon-shaped badge with a small torch engraved on it. After putting on the badge that only Intelligence Command staff could use, Dad hurriedly grabbed his passport, put on his shoes, and left through the front door.

While looking out the window, waiting for Dad who might not return for who knows how long.

“…Hey.”

A voice suddenly calling me brought me back to reality.

The view outside the window disappeared, and in its place stood Camilla.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh… yeah…”

I nodded repeatedly and wiped away the dried sweat with my hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

I’m fine.

Of course.

I have to be.

*

Time seemed to have grown legs, as weekdays flew by. Time flowed on, racing toward the end of January.

The imperial army, having launched a large-scale offensive, was reporting victories day after day.

Having personally experienced how severe information control can be, it would be foolish to believe the military’s propaganda, but extracting useful information from that propaganda is an intelligence officer’s duty.

During my stay at the townhouse, I collected information related to the northern front using OSINT (Open Source Intelligence).

To be precise…

“Aren’t you going to do it? Your hands are idle.”

“…Why am I doing this?”

I outsourced it.

With some free time on my hands, I maximized it by training Camilla.

This week’s topic was OSINT.

The process of collecting and analyzing intelligence through newspapers, broadcasts, the internet, academic journals, magazines, papers, and publications.

“The importance of open source intelligence began to emerge in earnest after the 1980s. Advanced intelligence agencies like the CIA, SVR, DGSE, and MSS, as well as intelligence agencies in Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia, all commonly use this method of intelligence collection.”

This was something Camilla, who had interned at SIS, was familiar with. Intelligence agency interns typically handle translation and OSINT work.

Of course, there are interns who are dispatched overseas as part of a team with regular employees, but that’s rare and only for the most dedicated interns.

And most interns who enter intelligence agencies are, like new recruits, at the bottom of the food chain.

For reference, Camilla was one of those interns. In the past tense, to be precise.

I folded my arms as I watched Camilla diligently working on OSINT.

“Wow… looking at you, Camilla, reminds me of the old days.”

“When?”

“During my time at the Intelligence Agency, of course.”

During my Intelligence Agency days. My first assignment after completing the training course and being assigned to practical work was OSINT.

It involved collecting and analyzing intelligence from Chinese media and internet sources like Baidu. No matter how strictly Chinese public security controlled information, they couldn’t prevent useful intelligence from circulating.

Recalling my rookie days, I began sharing stories with Camilla.

“You know how logs are created when you access the internet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Senior officers always warned us to be careful when accessing Chinese internet. They always told us to use DuckDuckGo or Yandex. But these Chinese bastards are incredibly good at blocking such things. So the main task for newcomers was to find ways to minimize traces while bypassing these blocks.”

“And then?”

“Well, my stupid colleague forgot about this and directly accessed the Chinese internet. With a company computer, no less. Guess what happened?”

What happened? He got busted, of course.

As soon as he accessed the Chinese internet from a company computer, the Defense Security Command immediately called. Senior officers who were drinking at their quarters after work rushed to the office as soon as they received the call.

What happened next is something even a private could easily imagine.

“The computer was immediately replaced, and my colleague was dragged away and beaten like a dog.”

“They beat him? Even though he was a newcomer?”

“You think captains don’t have promotion ambitions? After being reprimanded by the security chief for a security breach, do you think they’d stay calm? Newcomer or not, they went crazy on him.”

In the end, that colleague was marked as a failure from the start. The same went for other colleagues.

One inserted an unauthorized USB into a computer connected to the intranet, another uploaded encryption materials to the internet, and one who went to the technical information department even infected his own computer while investigating a North Korean computer virus.

As a result, the senior class, criticized by both the Defense Security Command and their own seniors for not managing their juniors properly, was furious. There was even an incident where the command was turned upside down when investigators from the National Intelligence Service showed up.

I heard that the senior class, who were higher in commissioning class and military academy seniors, tore into them until their tear ducts dried up. I didn’t know much because I was selected for field work, but colleagues who remained at the command said they felt like they were walking on thin ice every day.

Now reminiscing about the past, I sighed deeply at Camilla, who was the very definition of a rookie.

“So do a good job.”

“Come on. As if I would do something like that?”

“Feeling confident, are we? Good. Then let’s also study cryptography and data recovery.”

“…What?”

“Encryption, decryption, data recovery. These are three things anyone working in an intelligence agency must know how to do. If you can’t do these, is it even an intelligence agency? More like a Tanzanian detective agency.”

I taught Camilla cryptography and data recovery techniques.

I had her recover deliberately damaged storage devices, find hidden codes in plain text, decode them with original instructions, and complete assignments.

At first, Camilla followed along enthusiastically, but as time passed, her expression soured. Unable to endure, she eventually reached the point of attempting to escape through the window.

I arrested her on the spot and dragged her back to the security terminal.

“Waaaaaah…!”

Finally, Camilla collapsed on the desk and started crying.

“This isn’t reality! Movies have lied to me…!”

“Why are you crying over something like this? Did I ask you to hide information in HEX code, or to modify files?”

“I only did analysis, I never dealt with encryption!”

“These are all things you do in the field regardless of your job. So bear with it. Oh, since you mentioned movies, let me tell you that if you bring up movies when asked about your motivation during an intelligence agency interview, you’ll get verbally destroyed. No interviewer looks favorably on that.”

This is why SIS interviewers laughed when Camilla mentioned 007. Those who learn intelligence work from movies always get exposed in the field.

007? Jason Bourne? Sicario? Kingsman? Intelligence officers who operate like that don’t exist in the real world.

If you join thinking you’ll wear stylish suits, you’ll be 100% disappointed when you meet locals who can’t speak English and only use dialects, or when you see cockroaches in safe houses. For reference, this is my story. When I was first dispatched to China, I couldn’t even speak because I encountered dialects instead of standard Mandarin.

Unlike the naive basic training, I trained Camilla with advanced courses.

Even Camilla, who had been crying, eventually pulled herself together and diligently followed the training.

Then one day.

When my secure mobile phone suddenly rang, I left Camilla, who was updating the northern conflict situation, and answered the call.

“Communication security. Frederick speaking.”

-‘Major. This is the military attaché office chief from the Magic Tower embassy.’

“Ah, yes, Chief. What brings you to call?”

It was news that the investigation into Francesca had been completed.

*

The white marble is maintained without a speck of dust.

So clean that the transparent marble faintly reflects even the features of those standing on it.

A vast corridor with marble tiles and stone pillars supporting the roof.

Guided by a priest, Lucia slowly walks along that path.

“You may enter.”

The young priest bowed his head to Lucia in front of the massive door.

Returning the bow, Lucia took a small deep breath before passing through the door opened by the guards.

A massive hall that could accommodate hundreds of cardinals and bishops.

In that enormous hall were four people.

One was Lucia, who had just entered through the door. Two others were the Pope’s guards standing straight.

And then.

“Ah, you’ve come?”

The elderly man seated on the throne spoke in a faint voice.

The leader of a religious order boasting thousands of years of history. The Pope.

John XVI looked at Lucia.

“Thank you for responding to my invitation. Come closer.”

“Yes.”

Lucia crossed the hall and reached the Pope.

The two guards protecting the Pope didn’t even blink at the saint’s appearance. Armed guards standing on either side of the throne maintained straight postures and gazed forward.

John XVI, looking at the two guards, waved his hand to dismiss them.

“I have important matters to discuss, so the guards may withdraw.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

With the two guards gone, only two people remained in the hall. The Pope’s faint voice echoed.

“Come closer.”

Lucia took one step forward.

“Even closer.”

At the Pope’s words, Lucia slowly moved forward. Climbing the low steps covered with a red carpet prepared for the aged Pope, she soon reached the throne.

Facing her, Pope John XVI began in a low voice.

“Preparations for the canonization ceremony must be in full swing, so I apologize for calling you so suddenly. I had intended to visit you personally, but as you can see, I am very frail.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

John XVI smiled gently at Lucia’s response.

“May I ask if the preparations are going well?”

“Of course. The preparations are proceeding without any issues.”

“Hmm… I see.”

Seated on the throne, the Pope slowly nodded. Following his slowly swaying head, a strand of hair escaped from his white zucchetto. The hand arranging the snow-white hair, as white as the pure white clothes permitted to the Pope, was like a withered twig.

John XVI exhaled a faint breath and opened his mouth toward Lucia.

“I called you today to discuss the people participating in the canonization ceremony. I also want to talk about the things you will experience as you work as a saint in the future. About your future.”

“Please speak.”

“But before that, I have something I want to ask. You don’t need to feel pressured, but I would like you to answer honestly and without concealment.”

“Yes.”

The Pope, facing the saint, asked one question.

“What do you think of the Magic Tower?”