Ch.551Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?

# The Abas Embassy in the Zamrian Federation was experiencing its busiest days since opening.

“Pippin. The Counter-Terrorism Unit wants the cobalt and zerodium tracking surveillance status ASAP.”

“I figured as much and just uploaded it to the company network.”

As with all illegal high-value industries, smuggling weaponizable raw materials is a lucrative money-making venture.

And monitoring such activities is an essential element that any intelligence agency must maintain.

Just as South Korean intelligence agencies monitor dangerous substances like acids, alkalis, fuels, explosives, and North Korean uranium ore concentrates (UOC), Abas intelligence agencies are also screening the status of dangerous materials being smuggled around the world.

Pippin and Jake were monitoring precisely these substances.

“It’s maddening, absolutely maddening. I never imagined so many illegal weapons would be circulating.”

“It’s a civil war zone. With complete weapons already in circulation, smuggling raw materials is just business as usual.”

After the military coup, numerous incidents and accidents occurred throughout the Zamrian Federation.

As soon as central government control loosened, conflicts between various warlords erupted in the provinces. Weaker warlords sought their own sponsors to turn the unfavorable tide, and local power brokers and foreign armed groups presented them with offers they couldn’t refuse.

Meanwhile, the federal army had fallen into a critical state. The provincial armies filled the void left by the federal forces, which had been crippled after the failed coup.

The local power brokers needed to arm their tribal members to counter the provincial armies that had transformed into governors’ private militias, and battle-hardened warlords provided them with fairly decent combat capabilities.

Though small in power, warlords were still warlords.

They sold minerals received from local power brokers to overseas terrorist organizations, and these minerals eventually made their way to several countries under international sanctions, like the Republic of Ashtistan.

This news reached the ears of a powerful figure who held hegemony in the southern Zamrian Federation.

To Nasir, the leader of the Hassan warlord faction.

Nasir provided information to the Military Intelligence Agency through his connection with Frederick. Upon receiving this report, the Military Intelligence Agency shared the information with the Royal Intelligence Department, and in the blink of an eye, allied intelligence agencies and the Abas Intelligence Department established a joint surveillance network.

Of course, whether this surveillance network was created to maintain international peace or to prevent dangerous materials from flowing into hostile countries remained unclear.

But none of that mattered.

What truly mattered to Pippin and Jake was something else entirely.

“Charnoi! What do you want for lunch today?”

The nymph, who had been writing a report with both legs propped up on the footrest, perked up her ears and brightened.

“I want hamburger, that I do…!”

“…Again?”

Jake muttered in disbelief, but Charnoi firmly shook her head as if he didn’t understand.

“Today I specifically want a burger set with Cajun fries and whole leg meat… I absolutely must have hamburger, that I do…!”

“You’ve been eating hamburgers a lot lately. You were even begging that person in metal armor for a hamburger the other day.”

“The land of happiness is never tiresome even if visited daily, that it is…”

Her short legs dangled from the footrest. Though she tried to make her case while swinging her legs that couldn’t reach the floor, all that greeted the incorrigible mischief-maker was a deep, deep sigh.

“Sure. Delicious food is the best.”

“Aren’t you worried about your health? What if you get cavities?”

“Then I’ll sell my rotten teeth at the magic tower auction and—Okay, okay. I’ll stop joking, Pippin.”

Anyway, today’s menu was decided: a juicy thigh chicken patty burger with Cajun fries.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d hastily eaten lunch while processing hundreds of pieces of information flooding in almost daily, but what did it matter? As long as they had a delicious burger, fries, and a refreshing soda, that moment was no less satisfying than a five-star hotel buffet.

Just as they were about to enjoy their lunch in the land of happiness for another day.

An unexpected visitor intruded into their peaceful routine.

-♬~

Just as Charnoi was stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth and joking “It’s mandrake, that it is!”

Suddenly, the work phone began to vibrate.

“Hello. This is Pippin from the Military Attaché Office at the Abas Kingdom Embassy to the Zamrian Federation. Who is this?”

-‘It’s me.’

“…Section Chief?”

-‘Can I use the embassy line right now?’

## Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife

In civil service, rank is everything.

Especially in the military.

In an organization that takes a unified, vertical command structure as its fundamental premise, the principle of obeying orders from above is inviolable. There’s a reason why taunts like “should’ve joined the army earlier if you’re upset” exist.

In that sense, the major who gave the brigadier general a headache was quite remarkable in many ways.

“……”

In front of the terminal connected to the secure line, Leoni pressed her throbbing temple. Her head ached considerably, perhaps because she had just woken up.

“You received a letter from that old priest?”

-‘Yes, that’s correct. It was more like a memo, actually.’

A rather calm voice came through.

As if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Leoni leaned her head against the chair and asked.

“And this is all the information?”

The encryption material commonly used within the Military Intelligence Agency. A three-line message floated on the terminal screen.

The message was sent from the Abas Embassy in the Zamrian Federation. It was transmitted through encryption materials from a special room equipped with anti-eavesdropping security facilities made with all kinds of coatings and materials, and delivered to the Military Intelligence Agency.

Of course, the person who sent the message wasn’t there.

“……”

Leoni’s dry gaze scanned the message. The three-line message hardly needed careful reading, but its content captured her attention.

The content of the message was extremely simple.

A name. A place. A time.

More specifically, a company name, the name of a paramilitary organization, and a specific place and time.

Leoni, who had been staring at the message, released her propped chin.

“What does it mean?”

The director asked.

It was an instruction to report the investigated content.

To this, the intelligence officer replied.

-‘The first is ‘Canicular Holdings Co., Ltd.’ It’s a holding company headquartered in the Kingdom of Dariya. Employee size is approximately 390. It’s understood to primarily own shares in overseas information technology and financial companies.’

“And the armed group?”

Leoni’s eyes scanned the second line of the message. Frederick added an explanation in a matter-of-fact tone.

-”Wali Al-Dadun’ is a rebel guerrilla group operating in the Al-Yabd Republic of Balekistan. It’s an organization of ethnic minorities united around tribes led by ‘Mehregan Zulfiqar Khan,’ and in August and October last year, they attacked foreign ships traveling maritime trade routes. Before that, they had a history of dispatching combatants to various parts of the Moritani continent to support civil wars and terrorism.’

“……”

-‘They’re also the ones I encountered on the train.’

A holding company and a terrorist organization.

Whether considered together or separately, it was difficult to find any special connection between the two.

However, the fact that the holding company was headquartered in the Kingdom of Dariya, rumored to be a paradise for the wealthy, and that the terrorist organization had been involved with company employees, was problematic.

Leoni, who had placed her hand on the table, slowly opened her mouth.

“The Kingdom of Dariya is famous as a tax haven.”

It was an open secret that the royal family there was taking bribes from wealthy foreigners and corporations, using low tax rates as bait. Even the press, not just intelligence agencies, had caught wind of it.

Canicular Holdings or whatever company based in a tax haven was likely not a major issue—in other words, it was likely a shell company that intelligence agencies didn’t need to pay attention to.

But the source was the problem.

“……”

Leoni tapped the table, lost in thought.

The priest of Al-Yabd had delivered a letter to Frederick. Although the Archduke was involved as an intermediary, the Empire’s Grand Magician said he had only temporarily served as a messenger and didn’t know the contents.

The issue was why the priest had informed an employee about this suspected shell company, a foreign terrorist organization, and a place and time whose meaning was unclear.

“Was there no other content?”

-‘No. The three pieces of information were all that was in the letter.’

“Then is it possible that this content is related to the ‘favor’ you received from the priest?”

The overseas director of the Military Intelligence Agency asked. Whether the Ashtistan Republic government was connected to this company and terrorist organization.

More precisely, it was a question about finding a connection between the Law Enforcement Corps, ‘Canicular Holdings,’ and ‘Wali Al-Dadun.’

The answer was resolute.

-‘Nothing has been confirmed yet.’

…Nothing has been confirmed yet.

Implying that something might emerge when it is confirmed.

“……”

The director fell into thought for a moment. What intention did the leader of Ashtistan Republic and Al-Yabd have in delivering a letter to an intelligence officer of an enemy country?

What connection did the holding company and terrorist organization have, and what did the place and time signify?

There was no clear answer yet. As Frederick had said, nothing had been confirmed yet.

To this, the intelligence officer asks.

-‘…Shall I look into it?’

The director, who had been staring at the message, carefully replied.

*

The commotion that began with one letter brought another storm with another letter.

The inscrutable sage had laid out three keys, but it was uncertain where those keys would lead me.

“……”

Late afternoon. I was slowly strolling through a park in Shizya.

The sunshine was warm and the breeze cool—perfect weather for an aimless walk in the shade.

I sat on a bench among the locals who had come out for a stroll, reading a newspaper. True to the Ashtistan Republic’s guarantee of free press activities, the first page featured an article praising the achievements of ‘Menbashi.’

“…The Prime Minister of the Ashtistan Republic meeting with the president of an allied country.”

The great revolutionary who had risen to the position of Prime Minister had long since grown into a proper politician. The Prime Minister, who was called the father of the nation in this place along with the priest who was the mother of Ashtistan, had succeeded in his sixth consecutive term about two years ago.

It was truly a remarkable feat. Whether as a politician in a democratic country or a dictator in an authoritarian state.

Whatever the case, it didn’t matter much. The fact that the first Prime Minister of the Ashtistan Republic would remain Prime Minister until his death was unlikely to change.

With a soft rustle, the sound of turning the newspaper page ended, and puzzling lines of text filled my view.

“……”

The headquarters had decided to investigate information about Canicular Holdings and Wali Al-Dadun. Regional intelligence officers and additional personnel dispatched from headquarters were deployed.

The fact that the Law Enforcement Corps was circumventing international sanctions through front companies was already a confirmed fact through numerous intelligence operations.

Similarly, the fact that the Law Enforcement Corps had formed close relationships with armed groups on the Moritani continent was a truth clearly revealed through long-term tracking and last year’s maritime inspection.

It wasn’t difficult to guess that the holding company and rebel group had some kind of relationship with the Law Enforcement Corps. Although specific information was still lacking, it was something I could instinctively sense.

Of course, I couldn’t yet understand the meaning of the place and time that appeared in the priest’s letter.

“Hmm….”

One of the most famous places in Shizya. A tourist sanctuary with charming Persian-style gardens.

Timar Shah Park at 1 PM was the perfect place to meet someone.

Setting aside the newspaper, I briefly enjoyed the sunlight tickling my skin.

It was somewhat intense sunlight. Like that sun I felt in Algeria. The warm and intense sunlight was so dazzling.

I muttered in a low voice.

“I wonder who will crawl out.”

My jacket, drooping to one side, felt unusually heavy today.

*

City of freedom and prosperity. The headquarters of Al-Yabd and the commercial corridor connecting east and west.

During my studies at the Academy, a professor of the ‘History of the Moritani Continent’ course, which I took on the recommendation of an acquaintance, taught it that way.

But seeing a corpse cradled in the arms of a loving mother, and propaganda murals that glorify martyrdom, one truly wonders if this is indeed the Shizya they spoke of.

“……”

This place, once said to have celebrated freedom and prosperity, was a bit bleaker than expected.

Women wrapped from head to toe. Morality police with gray armbands. A police officer stopping ordinary vehicles with hand signals, and a van speeding past.

Morality police gathered in the park called over young men and women, then meticulously lectured them on the ‘values of Al-Yabd’ they had violated. Painting a man’s exposed knees with black magic ink for wearing shorts, and pointing out a woman’s protruding hair.

The portrait of the revolutionary leader looked down upon the scene of the detained young couple boarding the van. The composition of the propaganda mural coincidentally matched, as if sternly rebuking the spiritual corruption of the younger generation.

The man who had been staring at the propaganda poster pulled his hat down low.

“Let’s go, honey.”

“…Okay.”

The man moved with quick steps, and a woman holding his small hand followed.

Two little girls holding ice cream stared at the man’s back, then licked their melting ice cream and looked up at the woman.

“Mom, where are we going?”

“Aren’t our friends coming?”

A warm gaze touched the children’s faces.

The mother knelt down and carefully caressed her two daughters’ faces.

“We’re going to a nice place with Dad.”

“A nice place?”

“Yes. Henya, Lucy. Do you trust Mom?”

Bright smiles spread across the two girls’ faces.

And with that, a small smile spread across the woman’s lips as she mumbled.

A very tiny smile.

A smile that looked subtly bitter.

=

Walking through the streets of Iran, you’ll often encounter propaganda murals. From murals praising the 1979 Islamic Revolution to religious murals related to Islam, and anti-American, anti-Israeli, and anti-Western propaganda, the types are diverse. For reference, there are also some murals depicting martyred individuals (specifically Iranian soldiers or Revolutionary Guards).

Of course, there are people who secretly damage street murals or paint resistance murals with anti-regime content… but if caught, they won’t face pleasant consequences.