Ch.373Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

The KGB used to train its employees on appropriate countermeasures in case they were threatened by foreign intelligence agencies.

For example, if a foreign intelligence agent presented photos of an affair or obscene scenes captured through a honeytrap, they were taught to respond with something like, “If you’re giving me photos anyway, at least make them color photos.”

The agency would not hold employees responsible for such situations. They would even tell them to enjoy it if they fell for a honeytrap.

However,

Any marital problems that arose at home as a result would have to be resolved by the employees themselves.

-Oleg Kalugin, former head of KGB Foreign Counterintelligence

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

There is a truth that no intelligence agency throughout history has ever denied.

‘The history of intelligence agencies is a history of failure, and 90% of intelligence operations inevitably fail.’

This wasn’t just cautionary advice that seniors routinely gave to newcomers—it was a statistically-based fact.

Whether due to the arrogance, prejudice, or laziness of intelligence agencies, the remarkable counterintelligence activities of counterespionage agencies, or simply bad luck, 90 percent of operations were destined to fail.

How many bitter failures had the pioneering American and British intelligence agencies experienced, and how abundantly had Russian intelligence agencies, successors to the Soviet Union, made their messes? South Korea’s intelligence agencies, engaged in bloody conflicts with those bastards in the North for 70 years, were no exception.

Therefore, intelligence agencies living on taxpayers’ money educate their employees about failure cases to ensure perfect mission execution and to survive parliamentary audits.

Cover up failures in the name of security? No such thing.

Unless they compiled failure cases into training manuals, intelligence agencies never let even the smallest mistake slip by unnoticed.

There must have been so many failure cases that intelligence officers who met at embassy parties would share stories of failures they had personally experienced, seen, or heard, beginning with “Back in my day…” Even I had heard quite a few secondhand stories.

Some succeeded, some failed and drank from the bitter cup, but as is always the case in this field, the true winner is the one who survives.

The agency didn’t treat failed employees harshly. Because everyone fails. When 90% of intelligence operations go sideways anyway, punishing everyone who fails would drive away even those who are performing well.

So failed employees typically had their desks removed from the office and were transferred to other departments where their experience could be utilized. They might be assigned to handle different countries, moved to intelligence analysis, or become instructors training newcomers.

Despite these relatively lenient punishment standards, there were employees who could never be forgiven.

Intelligence officers who ruined operations through their own mistakes. Going further, those who harmed other employees and caused damage to the agency.

Intelligence agencies never forgave such employees.

And today.

A major incident was about to unfold that might serve as a cautionary tale not just for military intelligence but for intelligence agencies worldwide.

The subject: infidelity.

The story of a diplomat who was two-timing two saints.

*

Intelligence agencies educate their employees by referencing failed operations. While success stories are important, avoiding failure is equally crucial.

Accordingly, the Intelligence Command would inform new intelligence officers heading abroad about various precautions. Major points were communicated through training before deployment, while minor details were learned by following seniors around during training periods.

Some programs involved inviting external instructors for consultation or education. In my case, I once attended a lecture by a professor from the National Intelligence Graduate School who taught trainees who had entered the National Intelligence Service as level 7 civil servants.

I suddenly recall a story that professor shared with trainees after finishing the curriculum.

‘Trainees, do you like women? While it might not matter domestically, chasing after women abroad can lead to serious trouble.’

The kind-looking elderly professor with abundant white hair often shared stories during spare moments. That day’s topic was honeytraps.

Since none of us had actually experienced counterintelligence operations from counterespionage agencies—we’d only heard about them from instructors—everyone listened attentively to the professor.

‘Honeytraps appear frequently in movies and dramas, but they’re extremely difficult to use in reality. Why? The reason is simple: they’re too well-known.’

Honeytraps have been a long-standing method since ancient times. Using the emotion of love to manipulate others is very simple and powerful.

‘Let’s use our imagination. Here’s a man who handles very special information. This information could be national policy, military secrets, or corporate confidential data. One day, an incredibly beautiful woman approaches this man who isn’t particularly handsome. They meet at a bar, exchange business cards, and from the next day, she starts calling him for official matters and suddenly expresses interest in him. If it were you, wouldn’t you be suspicious of this woman?’

The elderly professor teaching Intelligence Command officers at the time evaluated honeytraps as too obvious a method. He added that anyone would be suspicious if a beautiful woman or handsome man approached an unremarkable target.

This assessment was somewhat accurate.

The elderly professor who taught us back then passionately explained why honeytraps were becoming obsolete in modern intelligence warfare. Of course, his advice ultimately boiled down to being careful with women abroad.

However, the “foreign intelligence agencies’ honeytrap countermeasures” that the professor mentioned in passing, despite claiming honeytraps were becoming obsolete, was quite a fresh lecture.

The professor said:

‘You’ve probably been trained to act naturally when in difficult situations. But some intelligence agencies teach their employees to respond more actively when caught in honeytraps—the Soviet intelligence agency is a prime example.’

The professor borrowed the memoirs of a defector who had been a high-ranking officer in Soviet intelligence, citing it as a good example of how Soviet intelligence agencies dealt with honeytraps.

‘The former Soviet intelligence agency emphasized bold behavior. It meant pushing forward with confidence. The agency promised not to hold employees responsible for anything. Of course, I’m not telling you to chase after women. Even the Soviets admitted they couldn’t solve that problem. So if you don’t want to fight with your wife and get kicked out of your home, don’t go meeting women carelessly. Haha.’

I should have asked the professor, even jokingly, at that time.

If there was a way to avoid being beaten to death by one’s wife after being caught in an affair.

*

I quickly found my pants among the clothes scattered on the floor and hurriedly put them on to cover my lower body.

If the Navy Special Forces instructor who had been in charge of maritime training during the Intelligence Command officer selection process had seen me, he would have remarked, “Fast, but why only put on your pants?”

But I had no other choice. I lowered my gaze to the floor and glanced at Veronica’s complexion beside me.

“……”

Veronica didn’t say a word.

It was unbecoming of the most prominent religious leader in the church and one of only two saints in the world. Even I, who prided myself on knowing the true face behind the saint’s benevolent smile, found this unfamiliar.

Her usually chattering mouth was firmly closed. Her plump lips were sealed as if padlocked, showing no signs of opening. There were other suspicious things as well.

Her delicate shoulders trembled. Her eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one spot. Her breathing was irregular, and the sweat from her palms was dampening the blanket.

The pure white clothing symbolizing sainthood was nowhere to be seen, and Veronica was fully exposed. Without a thread of clothing, a spectacular landscape built of flesh was on display.

Her earlier confident attitude had long disappeared, but some trace of embarrassment remained. Veronica was clutching the blanket with both arms, covering the important parts of her body.

Or more accurately, barely covering them.

Right now, shame or dignity meant nothing to Veronica.

There was something far more important.

“…Sis, ter?”

The trembling voice struck my ears and pierced my eardrums.

At that familiar voice, Veronica, who had been fixing her anxious gaze on the edge of the bed, tightly closed her eyes.

Lucia stared blankly at her sister.

“What… is going on here…?”

Lucia’s weak voice echoed through the bedroom. As her piercingly blue eyes turned toward us, Veronica closed her eyes, and I averted my gaze.

A forbidden affair with my girlfriend’s sister.

And caught in the act.

The crisis that would define my decades of public service had finally arrived.

It was the greatest crisis of my life.