Ch.343Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

# “Hey.”

I jolt awake at the voice calling me.

My eyes open, but my exhausted body refuses to move. Perhaps it’s because I was deployed without even adjusting to the time difference. Or maybe it’s the undigested airplane food from the Iranian flight.

Pulling up my windbreaker against the cold desert night air, I sink deeper into the passenger seat and respond.

“What?”

“What do you think religion is?”

An unexpected philosophical question. I roll my eyes, which aren’t covered by my windbreaker, to look at my conversation partner in the driver’s seat.

There sat a Middle Eastern man with thin facial features.

A Jewish man born in Germany who immigrated to Israel.

This guy, who claims to have moved to Jerusalem to trace his roots because his mother was Jewish, is once again spouting nonsense.

“Why are you asking that? Has the dawn made you sentimental?”

“No, just thinking. It’s the kind of topic worth pondering at least once in life, isn’t it? What’s the point of living without such contemplations?”

“You bastard… your Korean has improved a lot since I last saw you. Even using formal expressions.”

“You’re welcome, kimchi sekkya. Anyway, just answer the question. I’m bored.”

“Religion is just religion, what else?”

A cold Middle Eastern night.

Heavy air settled coldly on the Iranian Khodro Samand.

A car developed by Iran—the country with the most influence in the Crescent Belt (a term referring to the Shiite alliance of Iran-Iraq-Syria-Lebanon in the Middle East), the leader of the Shiite faction that opposes Saudi Arabia, the leader of the Sunni faction, and a major hostile nation to Israel.

The Israeli man at the wheel of the Samand, Iran’s national car, stared blankly at Tehran’s night view reflected in the window.

“Did you know? There are Muslims who make pilgrimages to Jerusalem.”

“Of course. Jerusalem is a holy site for Islam. Al-Aqsa is there.”

“When I first arrived in Israel with my mother, the first place we visited was Jerusalem. That’s where I met Muslims for the first time.”

“And?”

“But my mother’s acquaintances, Jerusalem natives, told me that all Muslims who come to Jerusalem for pilgrimage are terrorists. They told me not to even speak to them.”

“Seems they’re sensitive about religion.”

The Jewish man resting his arm on the window frame smirked.

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“I mean, these people who would have been dragged to concentration camps when Hitler was alive, not even able to come to Jerusalem, fought wars just to claim Jerusalem. Four wars, in fact.”

“So?”

“And now they talk about reconciliation and all those nice words. They drop bombs on Palestinians’ heads, and kids fight in the Muslim Quarter. Isn’t that something? In the end, we’re all the same people except for religion.”

“…”

“Why does religion even exist? If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here in Tehran.”

The silence in the Samand is broken by the sound of a radio.

A signal from Agent Seo coming from the toolbox at my feet. I take out the radio and place it on the glove compartment, then hand the Iraqi pistol from the toolbox to the Mossad agent.

“Vehicle identified. Three blocks away. If he follows his usual routine, he’ll pass by here.”

“Any passengers?”

“A driver and a bodyguard. Revolutionary Guard. And don’t forget.”

I warn him with my hand on the door handle.

“Quickly eliminate the two non-targets and extract only the target. If possible, seize any information in the vehicle too. Without that, both your company and mine are screwed. If you get caught in an Iranian prison, you’re dead for sure. Or at least crippled.”

“…”

“Stop overthinking and focus. We need to snatch him before the Revolutionary Guard closes in.”

“…Right.”

The door opens.

“Let’s get to work.”

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

My adventure with Camilla, sneaking into the Tranquille Cathedral to meet Lucia, ended rather anticlimactically.

Even as we made our way back to the reception room, avoiding the eyes of priests and monks and squeezing ourselves into magical devices, Camilla kept bombarding me with questions.

“How did it go?”

“…”

“Come on, after all the trouble we went through to get here, at least tell me something. Please?”

Despite Camilla’s urging, I found it difficult to speak.

How could I tell her that Lucia had argued with the Pope and called John XVI an old fogey to his face, causing a rift between them?

I wanted to keep it secret, but since I had promised to share Lucia’s situation in exchange for her cooperation, I reluctantly had to reveal the truth.

“Nothing happened. Is that really all, Major?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Veronica, the Church’s saint, seemed to have lost her composure.

“Our sister met with that old fogey, talked about religion, and got into an argument? An 80-year-old man who’ll be dead the day after tomorrow stormed off like a child because she said confession is useless?”

“That’s what Lucia herself said. She didn’t seem to be lying.”

“Wow…”

Seated on the sofa in her pristine white cassock and red shoes symbolizing sainthood, she muttered after hearing the full story:

“If he’s about to retire, he should be having tea with other retired old men. I don’t understand why he called our sister for such a musty conversation… Is it finally his time to die?”

Veronica looked utterly bewildered.

She resembled a kindergartener who had received ginseng candy from her grandfather, and I, exhausted, casually remarked:

“Maybe the Pope was just lonely.”

“No!”

Veronica pounded her chest and unleashed her temper.

Her arrows of criticism were aimed at the current Pope, John XVI, who was approaching retirement.

“If he’s bored, he should go for a walk or something! Why is he hitting on Lucia who’s still growing up?! Her canonization ceremony is coming up soon—what if his mustiness rubs off on her?!”

“…What kind of thoughts do you normally have to say such things…?”

I gave her a disbelieving look, but Veronica evaded my question with shameless nonchalance.

Perhaps Lucia changed because she’s been around someone like this since childhood. This is why they say environment matters.

In any case, our worries turned out to be unfounded.

I couldn’t understand why they would argue over such a topic—it was beyond the comprehension of a non-religious person like me.

But it didn’t seem like a major issue, so I decided to let it go.

“At least it’s not as serious as we feared.”

“You’re right, but… I still wonder why that old fogey Pope asked Lucia such questions.”

“Well… there was no real problem, right? Let’s think positively.”

I shrugged and replied.

“Let’s just leave well enough alone, shall we?”

*

The political confrontation between Lucia and the Pope concluded as a misunderstanding-based incident.

Perhaps it was due to tension while being exhausted.

After the commotion, I fell asleep as soon as I entered the hotel.

After a good rest, I began to notice several changes.

“Have you been well, Frederick?”

First, Lucia resumed her external activities.

After her heated debate with the Pope and subsequent seclusion, she reappeared in public less than half a day later.

“It’s been a while, Lucia.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

Though I had already snuck into the cathedral and spoken with her, Lucia graciously treated me as if we were meeting for the first time in two weeks.

Having ended her seclusion, Lucia went about visiting people and handling various tasks as before.

Despite her troubled state of mind, her diligent nature remained undiminished. Even during her seclusion, she hadn’t missed a single detail regarding the progress of the canonization ceremony preparations.

Bishops and cardinals didn’t spare their praise for Lucia, who was completely different from Veronica, who loved to laze around.

Of course,

“How can Saint Lucia be so diligent?”

“It’s her innate quality.”

“But I’ve heard rumors of some friction between the Pope and the Saint… Do you know anything about this, Sir?”

“I’m not well-versed in Church matters, so I can’t speak to the truth of such rumors.”

Most were merely fishing for information, having heard rumors about the Saint and the Pope’s confrontation.

I dealt with the Church politicians who visited the hotel, pretending to be passing by after hearing Lucia had come, and carefully documented their personal information.

The changes didn’t end there.

[…A ship with a green flag docks at the port of Laterano, the Church’s holy land. The Crown Prince of Mauritania warmly greets the bishop who came to welcome him.]

[…Prime Minister Asud is scheduled to meet with Cardinal Raphael, who has been selected as John XVI’s successor, on the 22nd. Prime Minister Asud, who eliminated members of the royal family in a coup…]

[As the unstable political situation in Mauritania affects the global mana stone market and international politics, Mauritanian foreign ministers are gathering in Laterano. We now go to our reporter on the scene.]

Government heads and delegations from various countries began arriving at the Church one after another.

Considering that the canonization ceremony was still three days away, these were clearly politically motivated moves.

-‘I hear those desert dwellers are sniffing around the Church.’

“Yes, I’ve confirmed it, Director.”

-‘I’ve ordered our embassy staff to find out what they’re up to. You stick close to the Hero.’

Unlike our continent, which has no significant threats except for demons, Mauritania’s political situation is rapidly changing, with unstable public security as the fuse.

Therefore, the people from Mauritania who have taken time to visit the Church, which has a different state religion, fall into two categories:

Strategists plotting amidst the chaos, looking far into the future.

Or quasi-refugees reaching out in desperation to escape their harsh reality.

Neither type is particularly welcome. Leoni pointed this out:

-‘Watch out for those with nothing to lose, but be even more careful of those plotting schemes. They’re like vipers who would destroy entire villages just to gain a small piece of land. If you see anyone up to no good…’

“I’ll report immediately.”

-‘Good, that’s what I like to hear.’

My task was to control the surroundings to prevent these desert leeches from attaching themselves to Camilla.

This was routine by now and not particularly difficult, as the newcomers to the Church had limited options.

What truly troubled me wasn’t the Church politicians or the Mauritanian plotters.

“Wow! Look at this!”

It was none other than the red-haired girl from England.

Camilla.

“It’s a glow-in-the-dark dragon!”

Camilla, who had come to my hotel room, raised both hands in joy. In her carefully cupped palms sat a tiny dragon.

When I turned off the lights, the dragon began to glow fluorescently. As it made strange cries and shifted its body, its carved scales sparkled in the darkness.

“Where did you get that from?”

“On my way to the hotel, I met some people who introduced themselves as diplomats. They said they really wanted to meet me and gave this as a gift! It’s an artificial dragon meticulously crafted by their royal court magician! It’s called a dragon, but it’s essentially a sculpture. They promised to show me real dragons if I visit their kingdom.”

“These bastards… Camilla, do you remember what they looked like?”

“They had rather nondescript appearances, and their names were complicated, so I got their business cards. If you want to investigate them, take these.”

Camilla, unpredictable as a bouncy ball, caused a commotion wherever she went.

I had assigned several security personnel to her with the help of the Inquisition, but foreign diplomats kept appearing out of nowhere to hit on her.

Fortunately, Camilla memorized all their personal information and reported it to me. For individuals who were difficult to remember or suspicious (likely intelligence agents), she even collected their business cards.

“It’s so cute.”

Camilla admired the glow-in-the-dark dragon (a moving sculpture) she had received as a gift, buried among the pile of presents in the room. I looked at her with disapproving eyes.

“Do you really want to play with such toys at your age?”

“Why not! It’s so fascinating!”

“Good grief…”

“Don’t be like that. Come under the blanket with me. It feels completely different watching it with the lights off and under the covers!”

You enjoy it yourself.

*

The storm of changes turned my surroundings into chaos.

Lucia, the protagonist of the canonization ceremony, was busy preparing for the ritual, while Veronica, who had experienced canonization herself, spared no advice to make her sister’s once-in-a-lifetime moment even more special.

Seeing Veronica, who usually loved to play around, taking charge of work made me wonder if she was really the Veronica I knew.

“They say when a person changes suddenly, something’s wrong. I wonder if something serious is happening to Veronica.”

“Hmm…”

Francesca, sitting with her back against the bed’s headboard, smiled with a curious hum.

“Why do you think so, Sir? People can change.”

“In my experience, people never truly change.”

“You’re quite harsh on her.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Amidst the winds of change brought by the canonization preparations and the influx of foreign dignitaries, Francesca watched like a spectator at a game, smiling with elegant composure.

The storm of changes had turned my surroundings into chaos, but the real storm hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Oh my…”

I tossed a document beside her. It was a paper from the Magic Tower’s diplomatic department that I had just been reading.

“There are no Magic Tower personnel participating in this canonization ceremony. No one is coming to represent the Tower.”

The canonization of a saint—an event considered an honor to witness even once in a lifetime.

A major event that brings festive atmosphere across continents and around the world, yet the Magic Tower had stepped back from this celebration.

“I suppose their internal issues still haven’t been resolved?”

“How could they be, with necromancers appearing?”

The demonic incident in the northern conflict zone.

The five necromancers, represented by Juan Pablo Martinez, were identified as the masterminds and perpetrators of that major incident.

After receiving Francesca’s report, the Magic Tower’s security department launched an investigation and, after various verification procedures, acknowledged that there had been necromancers within the Tower.

The problem was that these necromancers weren’t just ordinary magicians affiliated with the Tower, but employees of the secretariat, which leads to the heart of the Magic Tower.

The incident hasn’t been made public yet, but it’s only a matter of time before the truth hits the media. Lucia is Francesca’s colleague and one of the five people who exorcised the demon, but she’s also a direct victim of the demonic incident.

In this situation, the Magic Tower’s participation in Lucia’s canonization ceremony could cause significant political and diplomatic controversy, given their potential connection to necromancers.

“In the current climate, if the Tower sent diplomats, people would say magicians have no shame or decency.”

“Indeed.”

While summoning demons was the necromancers’ crime, the Magic Tower couldn’t be absolved of responsibility in this matter. After all, it was the Tower government that sent the necromancers to the Empire.

The Tower failed in personnel verification for their delegation and couldn’t prevent necromancers from infiltrating the secretariat. Though the necromancers committed the crime, the Magic Tower, depending on interpretation, provided the direct and indirect causes of this incident by failing in internal control.

How could the Tower send representatives to Lucia’s canonization in such circumstances? It’s obvious they would face twice the criticism once the truth comes to light.

But the Tower wasn’t the only one in an awkward position.

I leaned back, supporting the back of my head with both hands.

“But in this situation, your position becomes difficult too, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“You led the Magic Tower delegation. You were also the senior-most member of the secretariat.”

Francesca represented the Magic Tower in the northern conflict. Her official title was the Tower delegation leader, and true to her name, she commanded most of the Tower personnel except for the magic battalion.

The necromancers were also under Francesca’s command.

If the Tower had sent a delegation to the canonization ceremony, the arrows of criticism would have been aimed at the Tower, not Francesca. Larger entities typically receive more blame, and Francesca had faithfully carried out her mission under the Oracle’s instructions.

However, with the Tower not sending anyone now, attention will naturally focus on Francesca once the truth about the demonic incident is revealed. And she’ll become the scapegoat.

People will say she had the audacity to attend the canonization ceremony when her colleague Lucia could have died.

It’s a sensational story, but there couldn’t be better material for an article.

The important thing is that preventing such a situation from occurring is my job.

And Francesca certainly has the intellect to anticipate this backlash.

“It’s about time you showed your hand.”

I said to Francesca.

“Given your personality, you must have a way to handle the aftermath. Isn’t it time you told me what it is?”

“…”

Francesca, leaning against the bed’s headboard, suddenly looked out the window.

An owl gently lands on the terrace bathed in bright moonlight, having flown in from somewhere.

After staring at the suddenly appearing owl, Francesca rolled her eyes to meet mine.

And with a faint smile on her lips, she answered:

“Thank you for your concern, Sir.”

“Yes?”

“But it seems the problem has already been solved.”

*

A general in a pristine white naval uniform spoke while standing at attention.

“We’ll arrive soon.”

As the elderly admiral spoke in a respectful tone, a woman occupying a massive silk chair adorned with golden embroidery nodded.

“We’ve arrived already?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A book floating in the air gently closes and settles on the table. The woman, who had been organizing the book without moving a hand, turned her gaze to look outside.

The airship’s glass window covering an entire wall.

A brilliant wave of light occasionally visible through gray clouds flows like a panorama.

Sapphire-blue eyes shimmer in the gray-tinted glass window.

“…Laterano. I remember it wasn’t this prosperous before.”

The archduchess with mysterious silver hair murmured, gently closing her eyelids.

“It’s been a hundred years since I last visited.”