Ch.394Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

A Country in the Morita Continent, Capital City.

A black sedan exits the embassy building. The vehicle, bearing the flags of the Abbas Kingdom and the host country, is unmistakably a diplomatic car.

In the VIP seat behind the passenger seat.

A man in a green military uniform murmurs into his phone.

“…Yes. I’ve confirmed the orders. In case of emergency, I’ll mobilize branch personnel and provide all necessary support. Yes. Understood. I’ll take my leave, Director Leoni.”

After carefully putting down the phone, the military attaché removes his cap and runs his hand through his hair.

Though it had been several years since his promotion to colonel, he still couldn’t get used to receiving calls from superiors.

After catching his breath, the branch director addressed his aide who was at the wheel.

“Aya. How much operational funds do we have left in our branch?”

“Do you mean the special operations budget, sir?”

The aide’s gaze briefly shifted to the back. Next to the military intelligence branch director sat a bag filled with bundles of cash.

It was a bribe for a counterintelligence agency official. After finishing his calculations, the aide spoke.

“After excluding what we’ve set aside for the commander, we have approximately 300,000 shillings left.”

“Is that so? Take out 100,000 shillings and deposit it in the account I told you about.”

“May I ask what this is for, sir?”

Instead of answering immediately, the attaché turned his head sharply.

“Someone has arrived from the homeland.”

“A staff member? No, why would anyone suddenly come to this backwater…”

“I don’t know.”

The military intelligence branch director sighed lightly and gazed out the window.

“They’re not telling me anything from above. What operation it is, who’s coming, nothing.”

“……”

Seeing the complex expression crossing his face, the aide held his tongue. As barely comprehensible local dialect flowed from the radio, the black sedan came to a stop in the middle of the road.

After visually assessing the road situation, the branch director clicked his tongue lightly. In this godforsaken post, people were strolling across roads where cars were supposed to be driving.

Children darting across the road, merchants tapping on windows trying to sell their wares—seeing this maddening combination, the branch director spat out curses in disgust.

“What kind of hellhole has people wandering in the middle of the damn road? And that so-called general has the nerve to demand bribes… With expensive tastes too. Taking more than my annual salary and still causing trouble. Son of a…”

It was the same old complaint.

The branch director is in a mood again. The intelligence officer smiled gently as he maneuvered around a pedestrian who appeared in front of the car.

“The sun will rise on a better day. Surely your next post will be somewhere better?”

“Shut up. Just clear the road. That bastard throws a fit if we’re late for appointments.”

“Yes, sir.”

Having escaped the congested road, the black sedan smoothly entered the counterintelligence agency headquarters.

Seeing the commander approaching with a broad smile, the branch director let out a sigh-laden lament.

“Whatever this is about, I hope it’s nothing serious…”

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

Returning to our lodgings, I placed the printed papers on the table.

“What are these papers?”

“Operation orders.”

Camilla slowly examined the documents prepared by military intelligence with a bewildered expression. I pulled up a chair and began speaking.

“I have two missions. One is to secure and protect you, Camilla. The other is to make contact with this warlord leader here.”

Blue eyes followed the direction of my pointing finger. On the screen emitting a bluish light was a person with exotic features.

“The final objective of the operation isn’t just meeting this person. The contact is preparatory work for the next operation.”

“…What kind of operation?”

“Aren’t all operations in civil war zones pretty much the same?”

Camilla doesn’t need to concern herself with that. Neither do I. Moving on to the next operation is only relevant if we succeed in making contact with the warlord leader.

“But that’s not what we should be focusing on right now.”

I organized my equipment and slowly rose from my seat.

As I put on my coat and prepared to leave, Camilla began gathering her things and approached me.

“Where are you going?”

“Come with me.”

I nodded toward the front door as I opened it.

“We need to prepare before heading to the field.”

*

The concept of primary and secondary shooters exists in intelligence agencies too.

Hundreds of new personnel are recruited through various channels each year, and after training, they’re assigned to different operational departments.

At this point, the senior intelligence officer becomes responsible for training the rookie agent.

Therefore,

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Camilla’s training naturally became my responsibility.

“The Morita Continent is new territory for me too, but when you get down to it, it’s not that different from the Middle East or Africa. Just follow what I tell you and you’ll be fine.”

I held up my outstretched fingers in front of Camilla.

And like a teacher coaxing a child, I gently emphasized:

“I mentioned earlier that there’s something important. What was it?”

Camilla answered confidently.

“Safety!”

What kind of places are the Middle East and Africa?

Complete disaster zones.

Security is a mess. Infrastructure is broken. Civic consciousness is nonexistent.

And the region we’re about to visit was a specially selected hellhole among hellholes.

Because of this, Camilla had to listen to safety precautions until her ears were ringing.

Even if she didn’t want to hear it, I would have drilled it into her head until it stuck, but fortunately, Camilla maintained her interest and followed my explanations.

“If you’ve lived in a civil war zone, you know how dangerous this place is. And how important safety is.”

“Safety first, safety second, safety third?”

“You got it.”

Opening the door, we were greeted by the sweltering climate. Seeing the dry wind carrying sand and the scorching sun burning our skin, I suddenly missed humidifiers and air conditioning.

After leaving our lodgings, we began wandering the streets.

“Hmm.”

I placed my hands on my hips and surveyed the street.

On roads where sidewalks and driving lanes were supposedly separate, pedestrians and vehicles mingled together, with jaywalking and traffic violations creating a dangerous collaboration.

Street vendors setting up shop in congested areas, jingling their wares between vehicles. Children following behind people with carelessly slung bags, snickering among themselves. Police officers napping in the shade.

As air mixed with spices and sand particles pricked my lungs, I finally realized it when I caught a whiff of that familiar pungent scent.

“Hmm.”

I’m back.

Back to this godforsaken post.

“Camilla.”

“Yes?”

“Should we just go back?”

“What?!”

Camilla’s eyes widened to the point of popping out as she jumped up.

“No. I mean, I already want to go home…”

I pleaded with Camilla, making a whining sound.

After witnessing firsthand the rock-bottom level of civic consciousness, I was reminded of my days struggling in Africa and the Middle East.

“You know, I learned French before? When the company said they’d send me to a post where I could use the French I’d taught myself, I was so excited thinking I was going to Paris.”

“And then?”

“And then, damn it, when I got off the plane, I wasn’t at Charles de Gaulle Airport but in the middle of Algeria.”

The sense of betrayal I felt then was indescribable.

No wonder my senior had stuffed his carrier with kimchi and ramen. I wondered why he packed so much food when there were plenty of Korean restaurants in Paris, but hell.

And, quite regrettably,

My current situation was identical to when I was sent to Algeria.

“Back then, I went on a business trip with a senior and had a rough time. Now I’m on a trip with you.”

“Hehe.”

Anyway.

Although Camilla was a mage who could take care of herself, I had to prevent her from getting into dangerous situations.

So I began educating her about the Morita Continent.

“As I said earlier, Morita is similar to the Middle East and Africa. The climate, security, even the food is similar.”

The problem is that not only the good points but also the bad points are similar.

“You know the situation here isn’t good, right?”

“I learned that during my research.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Umm! First, regarding security…”

Camilla gently closed her eyes and wiggled her finger.

“The security level in the Morita Continent varies by country and region, but compared to other continents, it’s extremely dangerous. To put it in perspective, it’s the kind of place where getting pickpocketed is just considered bad luck.”

An accurate comparison.

Unstable security is practically synonymous with Africa, the Middle East, and Morita.

In neighborhoods like these, if you get pickpocketed in broad daylight, the police don’t investigate—they just tell you to “consider it an unlucky day and move on.”

I gave her a few examples.

“When I was deployed to Morocco before, I got pickpocketed three times. On the same day, at the same place, they stole money I had hidden. So I complained to my senior, and do you know what he did?”

“What did he do?”

“He gave me a bag with a heavy lock.”

For reference, that bag was something my senior had bought after being pickpocketed himself.

“Once I even caught a pickpocket in the act. I was returning from lunch with a junior when this kid snatched my smartphone.”

“Your personal phone?”

“Not mine. One I was given for the trip. Anyway, I chased him for 20 minutes and finally caught him.”

Camilla crossed her arms with interest.

“Oh. So you got your smartphone back?”

“I did. And I returned the favor.”

“Returned the favor?”

In response to Camilla asking what that meant, I showed her my palm. I tapped my middle and index fingers and then bent them back forcefully.

The blue eyes that had been full of interest suddenly grew as large as the moon.

“Wait, wait. You don’t mean you broke his fingers, do you?”

“I did. You understood correctly.”

“…What?!”

And I didn’t just break them. I folded them with the intention of crippling him permanently.

“How can you say that so casually? You should have handed him over to the police!”

“These criminals operate in organized groups. We were in a rural area far from the city, and it would have taken the police two hours to arrive. I couldn’t wait that long and risk encountering the pickpocket’s gang before the police arrived.”

I could have stabbed him and run if necessary, but simple assault and murder are crimes of different magnitudes. When a murder occurs, police investigations begin, so it’s best to avoid killing during operations.

“The smartphone had company data on it, so I had no choice. He wouldn’t return it even for money, so what else could I do?”

“Didn’t you get in trouble?”

“A little? I got scolded for causing unnecessary trouble. But I’m a gentleman compared to my seniors. Their military experiences were twice as spectacular.”

“How so?”

“Once I heard gunshots outside our lodgings at dawn, and when I went out, I found people riddled with bullets in the driver’s seat and back seat. Another time, someone complimented an Arab man’s sister for being pretty and received death threats…”

If my memory serves me right, the local militia handled the cleanup of the bodies and the scene. The corrupt local police, having taken bribes, didn’t even show up.

It was a conflict between cartels, after all.

For reference, Muslims don’t appreciate compliments about their family members. More precisely, they consider it a great insult when foreign men compliment their wives, sisters, or daughters.

Intelligence officers (usually those unfamiliar with Middle Eastern culture) who tried to give compliments often ended up with strained relationships and death threats. Some even got stabbed.

I told Camilla about 101 different situations I had personally experienced abroad that almost went terribly wrong. I gave these examples as warnings because I was worried that her curiosity might lead her into trouble or get her stabbed.

“Hmm…”

Although these stories might have been disturbing, Camilla listened attentively. Her focused demeanor reminded me of a model student diligently listening to a professor’s lecture.

With a serious expression, Camilla suddenly asked a question.

“By the way. Did all of this happen to you personally?”

I felt a jolt for a moment.

My shoulders twitched, but fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice. Camilla was deep in thought with her finger resting on her chin.

Delaying my answer might make her suspicious, so I quickly denied it.

“No. I told you these were stories from my seniors.”

“But you’ve been talking as if these were your personal experiences, not something you heard from others.”

“How would you know that, Camilla?”

At those words, Camilla raised her head slightly, met my gaze, and smiled broadly.

“I figured out you were from Earth, so can’t I figure this out too?”

“……”

“So what’s the truth? Did you experience these things yourself?”

“N-no, I didn’t.”

“Come on, tell me the truth! I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

She’s quick to catch on, as always.

I shook my head and entered a traditional teahouse in the Morita Continent.

*

Camilla seemed eager to move on to a different topic, but safety precautions couldn’t be emphasized enough, especially in a civil war zone.

So I dedicated an entire day to educating her about safety.

What not to do and what’s acceptable to do.

Expressions to avoid and expressions that could be beneficial.

Safe ways to handle meals and bathing.

And how to respond if things go wrong.

“When visiting a local’s home as a guest, it’s good manners to take at least a sip of the tea they offer. Refusing is considered an insult.”

“Be careful with words or actions that might dishonor someone. Dishonoring someone here is something only enemies do to each other. Conversely, if you praise someone as highly honorable, they’ll be delighted. Build rapport by offering such compliments a few times.”

“In the Morita Continent, it’s best to buy bottled water whenever possible. This is a place where even the water pipes can’t be trusted. As a second option, people collect rainwater or well water, then boil, purify, and filter it… but as you’ll find out, you won’t even be able to bathe with that.”

“Similar to the Middle East, there’s a bribery culture here. You’ll need cash even for minor matters, so keep plenty on hand. You don’t always have to give money, but they usually prefer cash. With about $2,000, you could probably bribe a couple of unit commanders.”

“What if they don’t accept bribes? I guarantee you, such people don’t exist. I spent more than half my time in intelligence services in Africa and the Middle East, and I could count on one hand the number of people who didn’t take bribes. For reference, those who didn’t take bribes—it wasn’t that they wouldn’t accept them, it’s that I didn’t offer. I’d already paid their superiors, so there was no need to take care of their underlings too.”

This reminded me of old times.

It was similar to when Camilla asked me to teach her how to spy at the magic tower.

I wasn’t the only one thinking about it—Camilla, sipping her traditional tea, suddenly looked at the sunset.

“This feels similar to back then.”

“Thinking about the magic tower?”

“Yes. We used to go around together like this.”

Those were good times.

The food was delicious, and the climate was pleasant. I smiled slightly as I picked up a sugar cube.

“It’s been a year already. Those were good times.”

I took a sip after using sugar to cut the bitterness and savor the aroma.

The original plan was to send Camilla back to the Empire in a day or two, but somehow we ended up traveling to the provinces together.

“For now, I’ll report that I couldn’t find you in the capital.”

“Is that allowed?”

“I don’t know.”

Filing a false report and violating internal regulations could lead to severe disciplinary action. But am I in a position to be fired from the company for receiving severe discipline?

Even I don’t know what will happen to me now. Whatever will be, will be.

“It’s fine as long as we don’t get caught. As long as we don’t get caught.”

I muttered words meant to be reassuring.

Whether they were to ease Camilla’s worries or to comfort myself, I wasn’t sure.

“We need to move starting tomorrow evening, so start packing your things too. And don’t just fill your bag with snacks—prepare properly.”

“Hmph…”

After leaving a tip where our empty teacups had been, we left the shop.

The desert night was incomparably cooler than the day. Buttoning up my collar, I handed the key to Camilla near our lodging alley and instructed:

“Go in first. Lock the door properly. I have something else to take care of.”

“Where are you going now?”

Well…

After briefly considering my words, I answered:

“I’m going shopping.”

And added shortly:

“To the black market.”