Ch.557Side Episode – Another Peaceful Day in Ashtistan

# It Was a Sweltering 69.8°F Day in Shizuya

The thermometer showed a despicable 69.8°F (around 21°C when converted to Celsius), a measurement second only to the yard-pound system that makes communist-obsessed dwarves’ beards tremble in disgust.

Why on earth was this abominable Fahrenheit scale being used instead of the proud Celsius unit?

That’s because Camilla was from England!

Just as when in Rome, one should follow Roman law, shouldn’t one rightfully use yard-pound and Fahrenheit temperatures where English people are present? (Though Indians who’ve switched to the metric system might disagree.)

The magician was pursuing a woman who was fleeing with the endurance of a Kenyan marathon runner, carrying two daughters on her back.

Camilla, wiping away beads of sweat in front of a cool magic air conditioner, wore a troubled smile.

“Hmm. This is quite awkward…”

She had reluctantly left the hotel at Frederick’s call and ended up in an unintended sprint. And now, hadn’t she lost her target to some unexpected assailants and gotten kidnapped herself?

If Alexandra Petrova, the Grand Duchess who was absolutely fed up with her disciple’s antics (truly), had seen this, she would have broken Camilla’s legs to prevent her from wandering around.

Ironically, the kidnapping victim, Camilla, was just casually enjoying the air conditioning.

And one of her kidnappers—a woman in her mid-twenties—was asking after her well-being with such kindness that it was hard to believe she was actually an abductor.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, I see… I’m sorry. You must have been quite startled.”

The identity of this kidnapper, who was awkwardly scratching the back of her head with an embarrassed smile, was none other than an intelligence officer.

She was Aila Nostrim, a rookie among rookies who had joined the Royal Intelligence Service about six months ago.

“I’m Aila. Nice to meet you, Hero.”

“Likewise. So you work for the Royal Intelligence Service?”

“For about half a year now. Excluding the training period.”

Normally, revealing one’s identity to civilians would be an absolute no-no for intelligence officers, but that wasn’t an issue with Camilla.

She was officially registered as an informant in the Military Intelligence Bureau’s database, with Frederick assigned as her handler. Naturally, his sister (who was far better than that black-haired beast—especially from the perspective of his womanizing ways) could also reveal her identity.

Of course, this wasn’t Aila’s unilateral decision but a company-level judgment. The senior officer had already revealed his identity to Camilla first.

“That Thanos-looking guy over there also works for the Royal Intelligence Service, right? Is he your superior?”

“I don’t know who Thanos is… but yes, he’s my boss. For now…”

Camilla pointed at the man who resembled Thanos without the purple tattoos, or a CIA operative shooting guns at the Mexican border. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she pursed her lips.

“Oho…”

The Sicario series, along with the 007 series, was among her favorite films. The face of Matt, who resembled the lead actor, had the charm of bringing back fond memories of scenes she had enjoyed in the theater.

For reference, the two had briefly crossed paths once before. As Camilla recalled, when she visited Abas for a vacation at the Magic Tower, he had followed her from the warp gate.

How interesting it must have been to meet an intelligence officer who not only was a familiar face but also resembled an actor she’d seen on screen, and in Ashtistan of all places! It was only natural that she got excited like a Chihuahua and bounced around everywhere.

Everything was new and interesting, but nothing could be more fascinating than Aila.

Face to face with “that registry mate” she had only heard about, Camilla chatted away with Aila.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Frederick. He said he has a younger sister who’s a magician. That you’re quite talented?”

“Ahaha. Did my brother say that? I doubt you heard anything good.”

“Not at all! Just from what I’ve heard, you two seem to have a very affectionate relationship. But how did you end up joining the Royal Intelligence Service?”

“I saw a job ad for a trading company in the newspaper and applied. They said they’d do a preliminary interview at a café before the written test, which made me wonder what kind of company does that… turns out it was the Royal Intelligence Service.”

“Ah, so you met a recruiter. Usually, they do that over the phone before the main interview. That’s interesting.”

How did you join the intelligence agency? What was your major? What are your hobbies? How did you get here? And so on.

Just like a magical society that could rival a cartel, they were laughing and chatting away.

Then suddenly:

“Have you contacted your brother? I’m worried he might be concerned if you disappeared without notice…”

Aila handed her phone to Camilla, saying something about contacting her brother before he started acting up (though she never actually said that).

Of course, Aila had simply lent her phone without much thought when Camilla said her battery was dead, but unfortunately, she had chosen the wrong person to trust.

An intelligence officer with decades of experience snooping around all sorts of messes noticed her existence in less than three minutes of phone conversation.

*CRASH!*

“…Where the hell did that Aila go!”

The brother who had been dragged into this mess because of his sister.

Enter: Frederick.

## Side Episode – Another Peaceful Day in Ashtistan

Frederick’s ability to find the well-hidden safe house was purely the result of his own will, effort, and skill.

North Korean intelligence agents proud of their 70 years of division, and intelligence officers from China, Russia, Iran, Syria, and various other places who had the talent for making others mysterious. How many times had he engaged in messy wrestling matches with foreign friends (not really friends) on foreign soil?

If he couldn’t handle something like this, he would either have died face-down in the kimchi soup prepared by the mess sergeant or had his buttocks beaten to a pulp by his seniors.

In that sense, survival was proof of strength.

Frederick, feeling an eerily heavy sensation after a very long time, raised his “mental injection rod” to fix the scattered mindset of his subordinate.

“Aila! I told you you’re dead if I catch you!”

“Kyaaaaa…!”

“Stop right there!”

“W-why did you bring a club, you crazy bastard…!”

When the intelligence officer who had suddenly barged in started threateningly swinging the club in his hand, the startled intelligence agent began running for her life.

Similarly, the prospective spy trainee was also fleeing with the new civil servant.

“Gyaaaaa-!”

Perhaps she thought the club was coming for her, or maybe she had trauma from club beatings. Either way, Camilla ran away without looking back.

Whether she did or not, Frederick, burning with rage, was only chasing Aila, regardless of who was watching.

“Shit, I went through hell because of you, and now you crawl over here and cause trouble!”

“Huaaagak…!”

“What kind of idiot education did you receive that you’d just lend out your company phone? You’re hopeless.”

Frederick, returning to his innocent childhood, and Aila began an untimely game of tag.

The “rod of love” that a concerned brother had personally carved was no different from the “teacher’s grace” (which felt like it could split your skull in half if it hit) that guided sleeping students back to the path of learning.

If the elders of the Nostrim family had seen their children who had grown up so admirably, they would have been too tearful to speak.

Or they might have collapsed on the spot with broken hearts.

Anyway!

“You stubborn little brat.”

“Aack…”

Just as Stasi intelligence officers were raided by East German citizens and beaten with clubs in 1990.

The sister caught by her brother had to endure the humiliation of a stinging back and stretched cheeks.

“Are you a rabbit? Walking around with your liver exposed. I wonder where they found such a childish girl to hire. And what? ‘Crazy bastard’?”

“Ubububp!”

“This is driving me crazy, really. Damn…”

Aila had things to say too. A lot, actually.

Did she come here because she wanted to? Until just a week ago, she had been happily working in the peaceful Lushan Federation. That was until her boss suddenly told her to pack her bags and get on a smuggling ship.

Without knowing why, she had crouched like cargo on the smuggling ship for about two days, and before she knew it, she had become an illegal immigrant who had crossed the strait.

She had waited blankly in a country she had never visited before, and following her company seniors who had joined one by one, she had ended up in Ashtistan.

“Ugrgup…!”

But due to her stretched cheeks, sounds like “hzmulrg” leaked out, and with her lips caught, only “ubububp” (which was definitely not aegyo, but Frederick hit her back once more for being creepy) came out.

What could she do?

She just had to think of it as her karma.

“Why did you take perfectly fine Camilla? And what are you doing here anyway?”

“Ah. Let go of this first. Pleease…”

Frederick pressed Aila. Answer quickly, he said.

And soon, an answer came.

From someone else’s mouth.

“For business, of course.”

“…Matt?”

Frederick, who had let go of his sister’s cheeks, turned his gaze to the back, and Matt greeted him, closing the terminal on the desk.

“It’s been a while. About four months?”

“Roughly… But Matt, why are you here…?”

“Well, that’s how it turned out.”

“……”

The operations officer pointed his thumb behind him.

“Let’s have a chat.”

*

For those who have worked in intelligence agencies for a long time, losing contact isn’t really an important issue.

Even among close colleagues, contact naturally becomes less frequent when departments change or work locations differ.

While minor news like “I heard someone got promoted” or events like marriages and deaths do circulate as rumors, intelligence agency employees, especially unofficial cover officers abroad, generally don’t know where others are or what they’re doing.

When I met Matt without any warning in the middle of Shizuya, I wasn’t surprised for that reason.

He was a paramilitary operations officer for the Royal Intelligence Service.

Besides, the Republic of Ashtistan was an enemy state of Abas, so it wasn’t strange at all for someone like Matt, who specialized in high-intensity intelligence operations, to appear here.

We moved to a corner of the safe house.

“Good to see your face.”

When I said this with a welcoming smile, Matt nodded several times as if he felt the same.

I stroked my jawline with my finger and asked:

“When did you grow the beard?”

“Hmm, about two months ago?”

“Right after I left?”

“Pretty much.”

Intelligence officers working in Africa and the Middle East often grew beards like Matt. In those regions, adult men without beards tend to attract suspicious glances.

Frederick, having once been in charge of the Middle East and Africa, knew this.

When a no-shaving order came down before a long-term assignment, he was initially excited about growing a beard like foreigners. But once he actually grew it, he thought he’d go crazy from the itchiness.

The lush beard extending from his temples to his jawline. Matt stroked his lower jaw and wiggled his eyebrows, as if asking, “How’s the beard?”

“It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m serious! Go look in a mirror.”

“I already know what I’ll see.”

“Self-love is…”

Anyway, it’s good to see your face.

The chair in the corner of the factory was covered in dust. I brushed away those traces of old years and sat down.

“Phew… Ah, it’s comfortable. Where did you find such a nice safe house?”

“I got it personally. I’ve worked in Shizuya before.”

“Ah, is that so? That’s good then. While you’re here, tell me about some good restaurants before you leave. And quickly send that one abroad.”

At the end of the direction I pointed with my chin was Aila.

“Ugh- it hurts…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve paid back all the money I borrowed, but he always gives me a hard time…”

My sister, clutching her reddened cheeks and sobbing, had long since lost her tears, snot, sweat, and even her senses.

How could a new intelligence agent who should be in her prime be slower than an old man approaching his 30s? This was unimaginable to me. This was.

“Hiing…”

Comforted by Camilla (pat pat), Aila buried her face in her knees and shed tears profusely.

Slow indeed. Even in crying.

“What does it matter? As long as she does her job well.”

Despite the disgraceful behavior of his junior, Matt shrugged as if it didn’t matter. I looked at Matt with disbelief.

“Despite appearances, she’s a hard worker.”

“Are you serious?”

“You just haven’t seen it, but for a rookie, she’s quite capable and was consistently in the top ranks during training. Isn’t that enough for a newcomer?”

“No. What if she causes an accident?”

“Everyone is clumsy and makes mistakes at that stage. You have to understand.”

“Let’s see if you still say that when an operation fails because of her. By the way, there are no returns, so you’ll have to keep her.”

It meant don’t pass the blame to him if problems arise later. Warm family love (broken).

Perhaps at a loss for words due to the relentless nonsense, Matt hesitated for a moment.

“…Is she really your sister?”

“I’ve never had such a sister.”

At that moment, from far away came a shout: “I’ve never had a brother like you either!”

Looking back and forth between the two, Matt nodded!

“I see.”

“No, you don’t.”

After exchanging light jokes, pale smoke began to billow.

Matt sat on the dusty chair, puffing on the cigarette I had lent him.

The last news I had heard was that he was tracking a terrorist group in the Zamria Federation, supposedly linked to rebel remnants that the federal army couldn’t eliminate.

Gently biting the filter, I scratched the lighter and muttered:

“But isn’t your timing off? The atmosphere here isn’t great these days.”

“All the more reason to come.”

Matt’s voice lowered. He already had a dignified feel, but with smoking and lowering his voice, it was quite a sight.

“True. There’s no better time for business than when things are unsettled.”

From the Law Enforcement Corps’ arms deals to the Security Committee’s wiretapping incident. The Republic of Ashtistan was currently facing adversities both internally and externally.

The media was popping champagne, saying they were surrounded on all sides and cornered, but the common diagnosis from the Foreign Ministry and Intelligence Service was that the Republic of Ashtistan wouldn’t be significantly shaken right away.

However, there was a prediction that the security level of Ashtistan’s security agencies would be enhanced due to these incidents.

“Rabdaria might be half-crippled after surgery, but other agencies are still intact. The Corps, the republic’s army, and of course the police.”

I mixed a sip of outside air with cigarette smoke.

“Now that the arms deal has been exposed, they’ll be wary of foreign companies. Was it Zuluk who was supposed to receive military support this time?”

“The Free Zuluk Liberation Front. They’re pro-Ashtistan armed rebels. They’re definitely receiving support from Ashtistan, but it’s uncertain for the royalist restorationists and left-wing guerrillas.”

“Left-wing?”

“Greenskins.”

Ah. He’s talking about orcs and goblins.

As the term “left-wing” suggests, they were Maoists in this neighborhood dreaming of becoming petty bourgeoisie. Of course, they weren’t biologically human, so it’s a bit odd to call them “ists.”

Still, they were groups with some semblance of organization.

They defined the politics of the Moritani continent, which revolves around specific large tribes, as a feudal system to be overthrown, and agricultural investments by foreign companies with vast financial power as exploitation and plunder, comparing them to colonial empires.

It’s a hybrid that would make Mao Zedong burst through his portrait in Tiananmen Square asking, “What nonsense is this?” But it doesn’t matter.

Wasn’t Maoism itself a slightly deviant ideology from orthodox communism-socialism? (This is why the Soviet Union criticized China as heretical. Of course, China also cursed the Soviet Union as revisionist.)

“Sssip…”

Suddenly smacking my lips and falling into deep thought, Matt, who was tapping ash, raised his head with a questioning look.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Just thinking it might be nice to play with ideology here too.”

“Ideology? What kind?”

“Well, there’s something called Juche ideology…”

Whether inspired by North Korean intelligence agents spreading NK-Christianity to isolated third-world residents in mountainous regions (who nonetheless use the internet), anyway.

The joke about spreading Juche ideology—a horrific hybrid of socialism and Christianity that would make Lenin wail and Marx faint—in this neighborhood was one that neither Frederick’s grandfather, who was a counter-espionage agent, nor Frederick’s father, who was a North Korean operations officer, could bear to hear with open eyes.

Of course, if they could, they would have removed from the family registry their grandson/son who brought not three concubines but three daughters-in-law simultaneously from abroad. With three generations in intelligence agencies and his father being a senior in the intelligence service, they could have not only removed him from the registry but also stripped the uniform from the bastard who had disgraced the family.

But what could they expect from a son who had already changed his nationality, like a draft dodger tastier than a cheese pizza?

All they could do was set out clean water and pray for him to do better in the future.

“…Anyway. I’m sure you’ll be careful about being followed, so I’ll just do the first verse.”

Tsk, smacking my lips, I changed the subject.

It was time to get to the main point.

“What business brings you to Shizuya?”

“……”

“And how did Camilla end up here?”

Matt looked at the safe house. More precisely, he was looking at a person.

The safe house was as desolate as a barren desert. The exterior was rusty and stained as if it were an unfinished building, while the interior was just bleak concrete, adding to the gloominess. Leaning against a pillar that seemed to exude a chilling aura, he scanned the surroundings with a lowered gaze.

The two maintained silence while being conscious of the dazzling light.

“……”

Even as Matt examined the faces of the intelligence officers, Frederick steadfastly refused to turn his head. It would be highly suspicious for people whispering in a corner to suddenly look in the same direction.

Instead, there was an abandoned piece of glass on one side of the factory, so he could look at the reflections of objects there.

“I’m looking for someone.”

After a long silence, Matt naturally adjusted his gaze as if tapping ash and began.

“Someone?”

“Strictly speaking, I’m looking for a mole.”

“……”

His expression hardened instantly.

“Which side?”

“Ours.”

“Internal Affairs?”

“They missed it.”

He said a double agent had been discovered in the Royal Intelligence Service. The added detail was that Internal Affairs had missed it, and the agent had fled abroad.

A major incident.

“This is a mess. So you came here because of them?”

“That’s right.”

I couldn’t help but sigh.

The timing is just artistic. Of all times, they had to come when things were unsettled.

“About a week ago, a suspicious communication was intercepted. A retired diplomat was talking to someone from the Empire, blabbing about confidential information. The other party was a woman he had met during his time at the diplomatic mission, and headquarters suspected it was a honey trap.”

The flame flickered once. The Royal Intelligence Service operations officer lowered his voice.

“But in the conversation, they talked about the Magic Tower project. About the Talent Development Institute and various other things.”

“Wasn’t the project content only known to the companies? I thought only a rough outline was shared with the Foreign Ministry and Treasury.”

“The ministers would know that the company is trying to overthrow Oracle.”

“The bureau directors don’t know?”

“If even the ministers don’t know the details, how would the bureau directors know? Even within the company, how many people know about it?”

“That’s true.”

“The problem is that everyone who can access the classified documents is high-ranking. And someone among those high-ranking officials leaked the project materials.”

“……”

“But this person fled in a great hurry. They were actively operating, but when one of their contacts was caught, they feared their identity would be exposed and fled.”

So when the contact they had hired to avoid tracking was caught, the double agent, fearing their identity would be exposed, quickly fled abroad.

Quick-witted, aren’t they? This is why I dislike quick-witted people.

Okay. I roughly understand the situation now.

“…Hmm. Since they fled in a hurry, they must have left traces? They wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to erase them while fleeing. Did they take their pension?”

“We investigated employees who had taken out classified documents on the day of the arrest, and a few suspicious individuals were identified.”

“They even took their retirement money in the midst of all this.”

This is truly maddening.

As I was muttering while brushing back my hair, a sudden rebuke flew at me, saying it wasn’t the time to worry about others.

“It’s too early to be going crazy.”

“Why? Is it someone I know?”

“The retirement pension they’re trying to collect last is you. The handlers think you’ll fetch the highest price.”

“…? Who’s interested in me?”

The Royal Intelligence Service operations officer answered in an infinitely calm tone.

“The Kiyen Empire.”

At that moment.

A thunderous voice struck my ears, and simultaneously, a tremendous shock began to surge from my cerebrum through my brainstem, spine, and pelvis down to my knees.

The pain was like being hit on the head with an 18-inch hammer!

“Holy shit!”

An adult approaching 30 years of age had no choice but to jump up from his seat and scream!