Ch.393Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

Camilla Lowell is a troublemaker.

Despite attending a world-renowned university, intelligence and character don’t necessarily go hand in hand. That’s why Camilla, considered one of Britain’s greatest intellects, always found herself at the center of incidents.

I’m not blaming her.

What could one expect from a college student who was preparing for graduation just yesterday?

Left alone in a world she’s never seen or heard of, Camilla is a stranger, a wanderer who has lost her destination.

If her only support, cut off from family, hometown, and past, is a romantic notion of spies from movies and an admiration for intelligence agencies…

It made sense that she would ignore the advice of a senior colleague telling her not to meddle in company affairs and to look for another profession, instead lingering at the threshold of the intelligence world.

It was completely understandable. Even relatable.

That’s why I had never severely scolded Camilla for her impulsive actions. I thought that with time, this impetuous college student’s wandering would gradually improve.

But accidents always come without warning.

Life doesn’t flow as planned.

“No, Camilla, what nonsense is that?”

“Take me with you too…!”

“…Here we go again.”

When Camilla started throwing a tantrum.

I regretted leaving my bat at home.

I was serious.

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

The day I successfully entered the country illegally.

I stopped by my lodging to change clothes and headed to a café in a nearby hotel.

Meeting Camilla there to check on her condition and coordinating our stories in advance for any future questioning would accomplish the first objective of the operation.

In short, a rigged game.

It was a perfect day.

At least until just now.

“Take me to the site?”

At Camilla’s absurd first words, I hastily lowered my voice and pressed her.

“Camilla, are you in your right mind? What nonsense is that all of a sudden?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Take me with you.”

This case was a rigged game between Camilla and me.

She would leave the country without permission, and I would be dispatched to the Mauritanian continent to capture her. After all, Camilla’s existence, capable of projecting military-grade firepower single-handedly, couldn’t be ignored. Her custody was a matter of concern for all intelligence agencies.

The surprise departure itself was meant to create a pretext for a business trip that would be difficult for superiors to refuse. According to our prior agreement, Camilla was supposed to return to the Kiyen Empire exactly three days after my arrival on the Mauritanian continent.

That was what we had agreed upon beforehand.

The problem was,

“What if you stab me in the back?”

Camilla had betrayed me.

“We agreed you’d stay quiet and go back after three days. How can you suddenly change your mind?”

“Well… I initially planned to return quietly, but…”

Camilla twisted her body and trailed off.

Her attitude resembled that of a child lingering in front of a shopping cart with a toy their parents had warned against buying. She seemed to have acted on impulse but now feared the consequences.

“But?”

“……”

Glance. Those blue eyes briefly scanned my face.

After cautiously reading the situation, Camilla blurted out in a crawling voice.

“Since I’ve come all this way, it seems a bit of a waste to just sightsee and go back…”

“…So you want to follow me?”

Camilla nodded.

I silently stared at her.

“……”

As the silence continued, Camilla, who had been cautiously reading the atmosphere, shrank her neck. The sight of her tucking her neck into her collar like a turtle was quite funny, but given the situation, I couldn’t laugh.

The silence persisted, and my cold gaze kept stabbing at her. Unable to bear the awkwardness, she poked her head out as if she had made some decision.

And then she blurted out:

“Anyway, take me with you!”

“……”

My ears rang from her rather loud voice. But anger surged before bewilderment.

What gives you the right to raise your voice like that?

But I didn’t explode in rage.

“Where do you get the nerve to- Kuhak…!”

As I was about to roar, I grabbed the back of my neck and collapsed into the chair. My blood pressure had risen because I was beyond upset.

My blood vessels, clogged with nicotine, couldn’t withstand the sudden rise in blood pressure and declared a strike. As a result, I sprawled ungracefully in the chair, clutching the back of my neck.

“Oh, what’s wrong all of a sudden? Calm down, calm down!”

“Damn… Do I look like I can calm, urgh…!”

“Gyaaaak!”

Unable to bear the stares directed at us from the center of the commotion, I rose on trembling legs and pointed at Camilla.

“You, you. I’ll deal with you later…!”

*

Promising future retribution while facing an enemy is a cliché that often appears in media.

Not seeking revenge is considered disgraceful in any culture. Italian vendetta, Albanian kanun, Middle Eastern cultures that value honor like life itself, and Chinese culture that emphasizes face.

Isn’t there even a saying that “a gentleman’s revenge is not too late even after ten years”?

As this ancient proverb suggests, such customs have been passed down since ancient times.

Just as abandoning revenge makes one less than a gentleman, someone who only suffers is often pointed at as a fool.

Therefore, in cultures that value face and honor, revenge is not an option but a necessity, and customs of revenge appear in similar forms throughout modern 21st-century society.

Sometimes even to the extent of committing crimes with blood on one’s hands.

Of course, the current situation wasn’t that serious.

“Frederick! Someone stole all the snacks from my hotel room!”

“Ah, that was me.”

“Gyaaaak!”

The next morning, Camilla burst into my lodging, complaining that a thief had broken in during the night.

Of course, I was that thief.

Upon learning the truth, Camilla collapsed on the floor, wailing.

“My cookies, my cookies…!”

She must have found the local food quite palatable, as she had piled snacks like mountains all over her room.

Curious about what she had been up to in my absence, I received intelligence from the hotel staff about “a strange guest buying an enormous amount of snacks.” Taking advantage of her absence, I snuck into the hotel and cleared out all the snacks.

This was the result.

“Snacks I hadn’t even tasted… Food that couldn’t be found in the Empire… Gyaaaak!”

Camilla was wailing as if her world had collapsed. Her crying was so pitiful that anyone watching might mistake her for someone who had gambled away their life.

“This, this is a crime! Breaking and entering! Theft! You know that!?”

“Camilla.”

I asked in a low voice.

“Where do I work?”

“An intelligence agency.”

“And my profession?”

“Um, intelligence officer?”

“That’s right.”

I nodded in affirmation.

Camilla was correct. I am a spy.

“So do I need to obey the law?”

“Huaaang…!”

Camilla sat on the floor, crying profusely. I spoke indifferently while organizing my luggage and documents.

“Seriously, why did you stack up boxes of snacks like that? Is it a Christmas tree? When were you planning to eat all that…?”

“I didn’t buy them to eat myself, but to give as gifts!”

“What gifts? You’re not Santa Claus… Let’s stop this nonsense.”

I completed my revenge against Camilla by disposing of the mountain of snacks.

Leaving her sobbing on the chair, I savored a freshly brewed cup of tea.

“Hmm…”

Though it was ordinary black tea, today the aroma seemed particularly rich.

Tea boiled in heated sand from a street vendor, with an exotic landscape unfolding beyond the terrace.

Perhaps it was the scenery.

It tasted quite good.

Having completed my small revenge, I raised my teacup toward Camilla.

“Stop crying and come have a cup.”

“Just give me back my snacks…!”

“I told you, I already threw them away.”

“Uwaang!”

*

After clearing away those accursed snacks and successfully tea-bagging her, I settled my grudge with Camilla and returned to my main job.

Leaving the lodging, I informed Leonie through the regular communication line that I had arrived on the Mauritanian continent.

Cargo delivery complete.

Safe transaction concluded.

The 13-character message flew to the Military Intelligence Bureau’s communications department via a prepaid phone.

Having completed the communication report, it was now time to dispose of the device.

I had made the first communication from outside because there was a risk that the lodging could be detected by eavesdropping units during communication with headquarters. The problem was how to destroy the communication device without specialized equipment.

This was surprisingly easy.

“……”

I separated the magical battery and components of the prepaid phone.

Since messages exchanged with the cover office were recorded on storage devices with alchemy applied, I first smashed that.

After crushing the storage device with my shoe, I swept the fragments into a sewer with my foot. Then I naturally discarded the remaining components in sewers far apart from each other.

While disposing of the mobile phone, I also checked if I was being followed.

“……”

I observed my surroundings while moving through crowded markets and commercial buildings. Sunglasses blocking the sun’s rays were suitable tools for concealing my gaze.

Parked vehicles on the roadside and road mirrors were also useful tools. Mirrors reflecting the street scenery served as another set of eyes, showing what was behind me where my gaze couldn’t reach.

Perhaps because it was the capital.

For a civil war area with rampant warlords, the public security was quite decent. It seemed the government forces had a firm grip on the neighborhood.

But to conduct my “business,” I had to leave this place. Since warlord-occupied territories were far from the capital, I might need to relocate from my current lodging if necessary.

After checking for any noticeable individuals and surveying the area extensively to confirm I wasn’t being followed, I returned to my lodging.

And the moment I turned on the light.

“Oh shit, you scared me.”

I was startled.

“…What are you doing here? Didn’t you go back to the hotel?”

“Go back? Why would I? There’s nothing to do in my room.”

It was Camilla.

As the door opened, she waved her hand and greeted me cheerfully.

I clicked my tongue as I placed my lodging key and pocket knife on the table.

“You can’t just be here like this. This is my lodging.”

“I’m also from an intelligence agency, you know?”

“You’re an intern. An intern shouldn’t try to compare with a regular employee…”

The red-haired British girl was sprawled on the sofa. With her back hunched, she looked just like a mollusk.

“Do you need any help?”

“What help? Would I need to borrow your hands? If anything, you might need my help.”

“Hiing…”

“Just hurry back to the Empire. Unless you’re going to help with the work.”

“But you said there’s nothing I can help with!”

“That’s why I’m telling you to go back.”

A civilian suddenly visiting one’s lodging would terrify any intelligence officer, but I casually cleared away the drink Camilla had left unfinished. It’s not like this was the first time she had invaded my lodging.

“You didn’t go through my bag while I was away, did you?”

“Am I a thief? I didn’t touch a single hair, so don’t worry.”

Camilla was like a stray cat that would hide under a car no matter how many times you chased it away, and she frequently visited my lodging whenever she had the chance.

At first, I warned her and threatened her not to come, but it was all in vain.

I’ve grown tired of arguing every time, so now I don’t care if she rummages through the refrigerator or sleeps on the sofa, as long as she doesn’t touch my things.

“……”

I took out the Military Intelligence Bureau terminal and accessed the data.

The advantage of an unofficial cover is the lack of constraints on actions, but due to civilian status, there are inevitably many disadvantages.

With an official cover, one could receive lodging and meals at the embassy, vehicle support, and handle communications and work with headquarters, but this is impossible for an unofficial cover. From small matters like communication and activity fund procurement, equipment issuance, to even securing lodging and meals—everything must be handled on one’s own.

Of course, there are advantages that outweigh these disadvantages.

I reviewed the operation order I had received from headquarters just before departure.

“……”

As the bluish screen emitted light, a confidential document from the Military Intelligence Bureau occupied the center.

After printing the document on paper, I set aside the warm papers and displayed a portrait on the screen.

“What are you doing?”

That’s when it happened.

Camilla, who had been wandering around the lodging, approached with a water bottle in hand. About to gulp down water, she hesitated as if seeing something, then lowered her head and pointed at the screen.

“Who is this?”

“My target.”

I tapped the photo with my fingernail.

“He’s a warlord leader active in this area, and the company wants me to make contact with him.”

“Are you recruiting him?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s the reason?”

I smiled at Camilla’s question.

“Why would I tell you that? It’s company business. Civilians, shoo! Go away!”

For reference, this document is Abas’s Level 2 military secret. While field units or higher-level operational troops might handle Level 2 secrets, intelligence unit secrets are materials that even generals cannot view without permission.

How could I show that to Camilla, a civilian? I gestured to shoo her away.

Just as I was about to return to work after clearing away the uninvited guest.

“Oh? I’ve seen this before.”

Camilla said, pointing at the document on the desk. As I was about to hastily put away the confidential document, Camilla swiftly snatched it with a dexterity surpassing a pickpocket.

“Ah, you shouldn’t look at that.”

“Just a moment… Ah, yes. This is something I know.”

“What strange thing are you saying now…”

I checked the content of the document Camilla claimed to have seen.

It was a symbol.

“A warlord mark? This is a symbol used by warlords. Camilla, you’ve seen this yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you see it?”

“In that alley.”

Camilla’s finger pointed behind the building.

After indicating the direction, she added in a calm tone:

“I saw it while exploring the city before. I believe it’s quite close to here, and it was something special.”

“……”

“I’m not lying, I really saw it.”

Convinced by her confident voice, I looked at the document and asked Camilla:

“Do you remember the location?”

*

Leaving the lodging, Camilla took the lead and began guiding the way. I grabbed some simple self-defense tools and headed out to the streets with her.

After walking for about 20 minutes, we arrived at an alley.

There, I confirmed the identity of the special thing Camilla had seen.

“…A mural?”

The identity of the image filling the alley was a mural—pictures overlaid on building exteriors and walls.

While graffiti can be easily seen even in New York’s Harlem, the pictures in the back alley weren’t the messy scribbles that hip-hop enthusiasts might favor.

I stepped back from the wall to check the overall form of the mural. And I was certain.

“It’s propaganda.”

The images covering the exterior walls and fences were warlord propaganda. The chaotic blend of symbolic slogans and patterns was typical of that style.

As soon as I identified the mural, Camilla, who had been guiding the way, tilted her head.

“Propaganda? How so?”

“This is very similar to photos taken by seniors who were dispatched to third-world countries from the ’90s onward. Mainly in the Middle East and Africa.”

“But I’ve never seen anything like this before?”

“That’s because it’s an old method.”

The form of propaganda where slogans and patterns are scribbled on walls is a promotional means frequently used by rebels long ago.

“These days, they just set up signboards for promotion, but in the past, everything was like this. Camilla, you’ve seen signboards set up by rebels during medical volunteer work, right?”

“Yes.”

“This is the original form.”

“Warlord propaganda appearing in the back alleys of the capital. Not a good sign.”

Camilla muttered while looking around at the warlord propaganda.

I took out a crystal ball for photography and captured the scene. Camilla was wandering around, careful not to interfere with the photography.

While the warlord propaganda in this neighborhood might be a novel experience for Camilla, it didn’t seem to provide much stimulation for her. Kicking small stones, she couldn’t bear the boredom and began to speak to me.

“…I understand throwing away my snacks, but do I really have to go back to the Empire?”

“Are you planning to stay here indefinitely?”

Camilla silently nodded.

“Even after seeing this?”

“Well, weren’t there armed groups in Africa too?”

“That’s not the point- Never mind. Sigh…”

I continued documenting indifferently with the crystal ball.

The identity of the warlord conducting the propaganda, the slogans they advocated, the promotional materials scattered on the streets—it’s quite common for warlords to promote to this extent in areas where government forces are holding out.

Since this was propaganda perpetrated by the warlord led by my target, there was quite a lot of evidence to collect.

While wandering with the photography crystal, I heard the sound of paper crunching under my feet. I bent down to pick up the warlord’s promotional material.

“……”

At that moment, Camilla approached me with small steps and began to whisper:

“I won’t do anything dangerous, so can’t you just close your eyes and take me with you just once? I’m confident I can stay quiet.”

“……”

“Or I could help if you’re in danger. Even the Fellowship of the Ring took Gandalf with them. Who knows? There might come a moment when you need a wizard’s help.”

“…Camilla.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to come along?”

Camilla nodded vigorously.

“And you’re confident you won’t regret it?”

“Of course!”

“…Alright.”

I handed the promotional material I had picked up to Camilla.

The content of the promotional material was simple. Recruitment.

Join the warlord if you have the will to fight, and they will compensate you appropriately. Even better if you have abilities.

For example, like a magician or shaman.

“Camilla.”

I put my hands in my pockets and turned to Camilla.

“Let’s do one job together.”