A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

I looked at the object that Leoni handed me.

“…I won’t ask where you got this.”

Silence settled between the seats.

I gazed at Leoni sitting across from me, her expression blank as she stared out the window.

In the awkward silence where even our breathing was inaudible, I finally opened my mouth to ask her.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

In my hand was a thin piece of paper.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

—

As I packed a few tools and climbed into the vehicle, the clock had struck midnight.

I drove out of the hotel parking lot with my right hand on the steering wheel.

“Where did you get this car?”

“It’s an unmarked vehicle.”

“What?!”

On the quiet road, the unmarked vehicle raced down the seldom-traveled streets of the Magic Tower.

With my healthy right hand turning the wheel, I responded to Pippin’s question.

“It’s a car under a false identity contract. Don’t worry, we won’t be traced using the forged passport.”

“Where did you get the forged passport? We didn’t receive any.”

“The support department provided a few before our entry. They’re passports in the names of unclaimed deceased individuals, so there’s no chance of being tracked, and I slipped them through customs in a diplomatic pouch.”

To be precise, it wasn’t just any unclaimed deceased person; it was the passport of a Kashubian man who had traveled to Abas and died.

“Actually, there are more than just this one. Kashubia, Korva, Kien Empire, Patalia….”

When people create forged passports in the names of foreigners, they usually obtain them through various excuses to steal information or duplicate lost passports during their stay. Sometimes, they outright create them using the identities of deceased persons.

Until the 1980s, the red-flagged agents from the Reconnaissance Bureau, Information Research Bureau, and Operations Bureau infiltrated using the identities of South Korean citizens who had not been reported dead.

Even when I booked a hotel room under an alias, I used a different forged passport, which, of course, has now been burned away.

In times like this, it’s convenient to be in an area where administrative tasks aren’t computerized. It’s quite a hassle and difficult to infiltrate using stolen passports.

Anyway.

“Hey, Jake! Are the employees receiving calls?”

Jake, who was operating multiple devices in the back seat, answered.

“I contacted the information team. But the other staff members are too far away to come. I told them to head out, though….”

“Tell the staff waiting in Anka not to move. How long until they arrive?”

All 73 members not in the human intelligence team disguised themselves as a private enterprise market research team.

Since it’s a market research team, they set up base in areas where a lot of white-collar workers live, and since that’s quite far from here, it’s impossible for them to rush over immediately.

As Pippin rummaged through the list of travel agencies, she spoke up. Given the rough driving, her hair was flailing up and down.

“I sent a text to all the addresses.”

“Tell the information team to start searching the closest office.”

“Got it.”

Pippin tapped her phone to send the text. Then she set her phone down and began scanning the nearby buildings through the window.

“We need to find out if there’s a front office among those travel agencies. So, tell them to search as thoroughly as possible.”

“Understood.”

Just then, Pippin pointed at a building with her finger.

“You can turn right here. Oh, over there! That red brick building with the white sign.”

“Where?”

“Next to the blue car, in the direction I’m pointing right now!”

I turned the steering wheel in the direction of Pippin’s finger.

Screeeech!

The unmarked vehicle skidded across the road, leaving rubber marks as it sped toward the destination.

—

When I suggested that we immediately go search the office, Pippin and Jake argued that searching six offices overnight was an absurd idea.

To cut straight to the conclusion,

“Are we done?”

“Yes.”

We weren’t.

Looking down from my post at the foot of the staircase, I chuckled softly at Jake.

“See? We can do it, can’t we?”

“…You know, that doesn’t seem to be the issue.”

“Quiet. Don’t whine about moving in the early hours….”

I leaned against the railing and stuffed my right hand into my pocket.

“Let’s hear it.”

Jake removed his gloves and began to report.

He had just finished thoroughly searching the second office.

“There’s nothing inside. No safe, no suspicious items.”

“Another dead end?”

“That appears to be the case.”

Jake’s report after finishing the search of the office was exceedingly simple. As I silently stared at Jake, Pippin, who just came out into the hallway, locked the door behind her.

With a hint of hope, I asked Pippin.

“Is there anything in there? Any documents or photographs?”

“It’s completely clean. Just ordinary stuff.”

Pippin replied tiredly, giving an answer that drained the energy of even those listening.

After searching two offices, we had found absolutely nothing.

Was it bad luck, or had we missed something? I clicked my tongue and climbed into the vehicle.

“…Did the information team find anything?”

I turned to the driver’s seat and looked back, but Jake shook his head.

“Nothing over there either.”

“…Really?”

“They moved ahead of us and searched two locations first, but nothing has come out yet.”

I turned to Pippin, who was sitting next to Jake.

“Show me the list.”

Receiving the list of travel agency addresses, I set my arm over the steering wheel and looked through it slowly.

I spent quite some time pondering while staring at the documents.

In this pitch-black world of darkness, there was an eerie quiet. The road, which had seldom any passing vehicles, was silent, and the abandoned street was tranquil. The only noise came occasionally from a cat hissing at a fairy after rummaging through a trash can.

In a shadowy corner, illuminated by the faint bluish light of the connected secure device, I quietly stared at the documents.

During this time, a suspicious phrase caught my eye. It was around the time when the clock hands pointed to one o’clock.

“…Hey, why has this office changed its address so many times?”

The office at the very end of the documents had changed its address an astonishing five times.

Something felt off.

“Hmm… this is suspicious.”

“What’s up?”

Jake, who was maintaining contact with the information team, asked.

I flipped back through the documents and showed them to him.

“This address has changed five times on its own. All the others changed only once or twice. A travel agency doesn’t usually change its address that often, does it?”

“…Then it must be a front office, right?”

“That’s what I think.”

There was no need to think deeply about it. I drove the unmarked vehicle out of the alley toward the suspicious office.

In the meantime, Jake ordered the human intelligence team to wait nearby, and Pippin held the documents and map, guiding me like a human GPS.

After parking near the office, while Pippin and Jake kept watch, I hopped over the fence into the building that housed the office.

From there on, well, it was quite normal.

I checked to see if the lights were on outside, peeked inside with a hand mirror to see if anyone was home, then opened the door and went in.

I secured photographs placed on the walls and desks. I took a few pictures as evidence, knowing that if I took anything, I might get caught later.

I wandered cautiously, camera in hand, like a journalist chasing an exclusive story. After a long while of loitering, I discovered a suspicious object in the innermost office.

“…A safe?”

A safe it was.

I stood in front of the safe, contemplating for a moment.

If it’s a travel agency office, it’s quite common to have a safe for storing passports. They often keep customers’ passports in that manner.

Of course, due to a lack of security awareness, they sometimes end up keeping them in desk drawers instead. Thus, you’d occasionally hear news about safes being robbed from travel agencies located in downtown Seoul; that’s why the police have issued notices urging them to store their passports in safes.

However,

To my recollection, travel agencies in this neighborhood did not store their passports like that.

As expected, when I opened the desk drawer, a bunch of colorful passports spilled out.

So, what could be in that safe?

“…….”

I switched the flashlight to ultraviolet mode to collect fingerprints and combined the numbers to open the safe.

Inside the safe, there was an all-too-familiar object.

I pulled out the pistol lying between the passports and documents.

“…Hmm.”

It was the very one I had seen at the Cult before.

The standard issue sidearm of the Imperial Army.

—

A pistol had surfaced from the travel agency office. It was the standard issue sidearm of the Imperial Army.

The passports in the safe were all forged, differing only in nationality and names but bearing similar photographs. The documents were filled with unremarkable names of people I had never seen before.

I took photographs of the passports and papers, restored the scene to its original state, and slipped away.

“Develop these photos and send them all to headquarters.”

“Yes.”

I handed the film to Pippin and settled into the back seat of the vehicle.

Working the field at 2 AM sure was exhausting.

Pippin, seated in the passenger seat, notified the situation on the security device.

“The license plate is in the trunk, so let’s swap it on the way.”

“Where did you get the license plate?”

“Money.”

I mumbled as I adjusted into a comfortable position.

“I bought it cheap from a fence.”

After all, it was a vehicle contracted under an alias, and the license plate in the trunk was also stolen.

There was no worry of being tracked, no matter what happened.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Is spying legal?”

On the way back to the hotel, we traded light banter as we crossed empty roads.

Pippin asked, “It’s definitely a disguised office for the Empire’s Information Agency, but what will you do?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you have a plan?”

A plan?

“Of course I do.”

I held up the prepaid phone I had contracted under an alias.

“One text is all it takes. Whether it’s Fabio Verati or an Imperial spy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out later. For now, take this.”

I handed Pippin a small package. She picked it up and held it in the light of the streetlamp.

“…Cellophane tape? Fingerprints?”

What do I plan to do with this?

As I noticed the questioning look on Pippin’s face, I retrieved a piece of paper from my pocket.

Fabio Verati’s business card.

“…….”

I held the card in my hand, reflecting on the origin of the paper.

[…Is this a gift? This is just a business card.]

[It’s not just any business card. You should know the person.]

[Yes, I do. Fabio Verati. But I don’t understand why the director would give this to me as a gift. I have business cards too, you know.]

[Flip it over.]

[What’s this phone number?]

[That’s the work phone number for your target. It’s internal.]

[…I won’t ask where you got this.]

I flipped the business card over and unfolded the prepaid phone.

“…Let’s finish this.”

The end was finally in sight.

—

“…Is that him?”

The special activities department agent with the binoculars answered my question.

“It seems to be.”

“Oh, it is. Prepare to drop; pull up alongside him.”

I pulled up my scarf around my neck and pressed my hat down low.

The van quickly switched lanes towards the sidewalk, and the special activities agent swiftly opened the door.

I stepped out of the vehicle and approached the man loitering among the passersby.

I recognized him instantly; I had seen that face countless times.

“Fabio Verati?”

“…Huh? Who—”

Swack-!

I brought the baseball bat down on Fabio Verati’s head.

The moment his head was struck, Fabio Verati collapsed to the ground, and passing pedestrians screamed and scattered.

But I didn’t care; I continued to strike Fabio Verati a few more times before loading the unconscious Fabio into the van.

“Go, go!”

As I climbed into the van, the special activities agent stepped on the accelerator, sending us speeding away.

I drew the curtains on the windows and lowered my head, pulling my scarf down.

“…Hah.”

I should’ve done this sooner.