Ch.454Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

John le Carré, the master of spy fiction. The former British SIS intelligence officer once left these words through his work:

“On some day in the past, a distant time you yourself can’t even remember. You live with the fear that the enemy you created might appear before you. And that they might try to judge you.”

Fear is a chronic disease in the intelligence community.

Field operatives, investigators who handled countless spies, intelligence unit commanders directing numerous staff, department heads managing dozens of teams—none are exempt.

I’m no exception.

“……”

Sometimes, very rarely, I imagine this:

What if one of the informants under my responsibility sold me out, succumbing to pressure or persuasion?

Perhaps it’s because I witnessed a senior colleague whose career ended due to an informant’s betrayal.

Or maybe because the last conversation I ever had with a colleague was when he said he was going to meet an informant—before being arrested by the Chinese.

Personal trauma born from experience. Or useless delusion.

I have no way of knowing which of the two sparked these thoughts that have suddenly surfaced for years.

But when I read the words left by that intelligence officer turned novelist who defined an era,

I couldn’t easily turn to the next page, probably because that single line he wrote haunted me.

It’s happening again now.

“…Please sit down.”

“……”

“You need to talk to me, don’t you?”

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Looking back, I’ve kept my distance from cigarettes.

Even when delinquent students gathered at playground pavilions late at night. Even when a drunk classmate in freshman year offered me a smoke outside a soju house.

In my two lifetimes, I’ve only accepted and smoked someone else’s cigarette once.

It must have been during my training period. An instructor approached and told me to take leave. It had only been half a day since the shooting evaluation, but he said my scores were the best among the trainees and told me to go get some fresh air.

Someone came to see me then. I believe it was my uncle.

No, it was definitely my uncle. I only told my mother about joining the intelligence service a week after completing my training.

I don’t recall the conversation we had that day, but I do remember taking the cigarette he was smoking.

Why did I do that?

Because whenever I smelled that scent, it reminded me of my father when he took off his shoes after coming home from work.

I disliked it so much.

The bitter aftertaste cuts through my thoughts. I exhale a cloud of smoke and tap the cigarette against the ashtray.

“Hah…”

After silently smoking for a while, I let out a sigh mixed with smoke and slowly began to speak.

“You said you had something to tell me?”

“……”

Francesca nods.

I don’t know what this is about, but judging from her demeanor, this conversation might be lengthy.

The atmosphere suggested nothing pleasant was coming, so I put another cigarette in my mouth.

“Let’s hear it.”

I set down the lighter and took a deep drag to get things started. As with most things in life, only the beginning is difficult; once started, momentum builds, and the conversation quickly continued.

Francesca’s lips parted.

“You’re taking the Hero with you? To Necropolis?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“The phone call.”

She meant she’d overheard my conversation with Camilla.

The possibility of wiretapping crossed my mind but was immediately dismissed. Even though I used a commercial mobile phone, the line itself was secure—a private line I had arranged for her.

My brain started working quickly.

I spoke with Camilla right after meeting Veronica. It was near sunset, so Camilla would have been returning from the monster elimination operation in the no-man’s-land. I suddenly remembered engine noise mixing in like static.

Francesca must have been nearby then.

As far as I know, Camilla always sits next to someone she knows when riding in vehicles. It’s her habit to seek out companions for conversation because she hates being bored even for a moment.

So Francesca must have overheard our conversation.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Having finished my thought process, I readily admitted it.

There was no reason to lie, and given Francesca’s personality, she wouldn’t have acted without certainty. There was neither reason nor need to hide it.

Her response came immediately.

“Why?”

Francesca looked somewhat confused. Her face and voice remained unchanged, but her fingers fidgeted on her knees.

Pretending to be calm, wearing a mask of serenity, she continued.

“I asked why you’re taking the Hero to Necropolis.”

“……”

Her composed tone and steady gaze.

Her purple eyes sparkled against the dark blue night sky.

As smoke dispersed between my lips away from the filter, I looked into her eyes and asked:

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Her rosy lips pressed firmly together, and Francesca fell silent.

Taking another drag of my cigarette, I tapped off the ash and continued my explanation.

“I can’t tell you the specific details. Just know it’s related to the cultists. I can’t say anything more.”

“……”

“Does that answer your question?”

I asked to confirm, though it was really just a courtesy question.

“……”

Francesca clearly didn’t understand.

I had no idea why she was suddenly asking these questions, but I’d made it clear I couldn’t explain further, and given her character, she should accept that.

If Leoni heard about this, she’d certainly scold me for a security breach. I needed to ensure her silence and send her away. Francesca wasn’t some naive innocent; she should back down now.

That would have been the case normally.

“…Why?”

Francesca’s lips parted.

“Why are you taking the Hero? Why not me?”

Her voice, calm until just moments ago, began to tremble.

The facade of serenity cracked. Now she was staring at me with a hardened expression.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Francesca asked. Was I not trusting her?

I answered no.

“Of course not. If I can’t trust you, who can I trust? It’s just that your identity has been exposed, so you need to step back temporarily.”

“……”

“The Abyssal Devourer, was it? There’s an exile attached to them who’s a mystery holder. They say this person can see through disguises, so how could I bring you along?”

I presented a perfectly reasonable argument.

This wasn’t just talk but clear fact. Her identity had been exposed, and a mystery holder capable of seeing through disguises had appeared. By now, the fact that she, a Tower mage, had infiltrated Necropolis would be common knowledge throughout the city.

If Francesca tried to infiltrate Necropolis again and got caught, there would truly be no solution. I wouldn’t know what to do, and neither would Military Intelligence. The principle is that an exposed intelligence officer must immediately cease all operations and return home, never to be assigned to the same region again. That’s standard for all intelligence agencies.

But even these circumstances failed to convince Francesca. She still refused to back down.

By this point, I was becoming curious too. Why was Francesca suddenly acting this way?

The answer came from her own lips.

“…It’s because of the Saint, isn’t it? The reason you’re going to Necropolis.”

“What?”

A dumbfounded voice escaped me. The question was so unexpected that I was slightly taken aback and answered without thinking.

“Well, that’s…”

Of course it’s related to Lucia’s safety. The cultist Al-Kair, who stole the Saint’s blood, might be connected to Al-Yabd, the largest religion in the Moritani continent.

Naturally, I couldn’t share this information with her. The source was internal documents from the Inquisition. If news of this leak reached the Inquisition’s ears, many people would be in trouble.

How could I explain this while protecting the source and convincing her? Just as I was about to sink into contemplation—

An urgent question escaped Francesca’s lips.

“The mission is just a secondary reason. You’re really going because you’re worried about Saint Lucia, aren’t you?”

“……”

I blinked repeatedly while looking at Francesca. Is that how it sounds?

It wasn’t exactly wrong, but people’s words can be interpreted differently depending on how they’re phrased. The way she said it gave it a strange nuance.

Sensing that the situation was taking an odd turn, I looked at her with an uneasy expression. At that moment, Francesca brushed back her hair, let out a slight sigh as if suppressing her anger, and spoke.

“Officer. I’m going to ask you just three questions.”

“Ah, yes. Go ahead.”

Her voice continued forcefully, and Francesca coldly threw her questions at me. Her tone had a strangely chilling quality that made me uncomfortable.

The first question began.

“What exactly is your relationship with Saint Lucia?”

“……”

A question about my relationship with Lucia. I had a feeling that staying silent would only worsen the atmosphere.

I hurried to answer.

“Colleagues. Like you and me.”

“……”

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Francesca’s expression darkened slightly, as if she was displeased.

I asked if there was a problem, but no answer came. After letting the question slide, she moved on to her next inquiry.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Hero?”

For her second question, Francesca asked about my relationship with Camilla.

The intention behind the question was so obvious that I couldn’t hide my bewilderment.

“Come on, what kind of question is that? What are you trying to do here?”

“Is it difficult to answer?”

I was about to say “not really,” but held back.

Thinking about it, this wasn’t the first time Francesca had asked such questions. Didn’t she ask about my relationship with Lucia in Necropolis before? And if I recall correctly, she once asked about Camilla and me as well—right after we helped a secretary and his family defect from the Qiyen Empire.

I don’t know what her fixation is, but it seems she was worried unnecessarily. She suddenly showed up and acted so serious that I thought something grave had happened. But all she was curious about was my relationships with women.

Honestly, it was both absurd and disappointing. But I needed to clear up the misunderstanding first.

I answered as honestly as possible.

“Just colleagues.”

“…Like Saint Lucia?”

“Ah, not quite. More like friends…”

“……”

“Why are you looking at me like that again? You’re friends with Joaquin too, aren’t you?”

In truth, Francesca and Joaquin were more acquaintances than friends, but I couldn’t think of another comparison.

What’s the big deal about having friends of the opposite sex? Even if they were romantic partners, grown adults can’t be prevented from forming friendships with others. If anything, I thought Francesca was strange for interrogating me about such matters.

Regardless of my thoughts, Francesca didn’t drop her suspicious gaze. Not subtly but overtly displaying her discomfort, she rested her chin on her hand and stared at me with eyes slightly narrowed.

“…This is my last question.”

She was going to ask her third question.

I prepared to answer. Predicting in advance, she would probably ask about my relationship with Veronica.

And my prediction was spot on.

“What’s your relationship with my sister?”

Just as I thought.

I sighed slightly and opened my mouth.

“We have a contractual relationship. She’s also your sworn sister with Saint Lucia.”

It was a roundabout way of explaining that she was my informant. With that, I successfully navigated the final question.

Now that her curiosity was satisfied, I prepared to get up and leave. I couldn’t understand why Francesca was questioning my relationships with women like a jealous spouse, but I didn’t have the luxury to worry about that now.

All that remained was to ensure her silence and send her away. Since I didn’t know the departure date of the ship that would infiltrate Necropolis, I needed to prepare in advance to be ready to leave at any time.

I hurriedly tidied up and prepared to send Francesca away.

But…

Something felt slightly off.

“Ah… a contractual relationship, you say?”

The voice flowed through her rosy lips. It was as cold as frost in midsummer.

Francesca lowered her hand from her chin and crossed her legs. She rested her arm on the chair and wore an unpleasant smile.

“Contractual relationship… sworn sisters…”

Francesca began to mutter with her gaze lowered. Her voice was deep and subdued, creating an ominous atmosphere.

With an uneasy premonition, I silently shifted my gaze.

The purple eyes that had been directed at the floor looked up, and Francesca, with an amused smile, bluntly said:

“Do you enjoy sleeping with my sister behind my back?”