A Dark Fantasy Spy

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This world has quite a lot of problems.

It’s an issue that democratic nations and monarchies are splitting the world in half and waging a cold war, but when you lift the lid, there are even more mind-boggling issues waiting inside.

The empire is at war with the demon race. They’ve set up military bases along the border like a demilitarized zone from the ’60s. Just when they seem to forget about each other, they exchange armed spies and shells.

The cult is waging war against heresy, sects, and the demon race. It’s like a war on drugs, a war on crime, a war on terrorism—a battlefield with no clear front, funneling money, time, and manpower into it.

In reality, it’s a justification used to eliminate those opposing the cult, but reports occasionally come in that they are also cleaning up demons, heretics, sects, magical terror groups, and races from beyond.

The Lushan Federal Kingdom is in turmoil due to the influx of countless refugees from Mauritania. They are fighting against terrorists, rebels, demons, races, drug offenders, political prisoners, and heretics hiding among the refugees.

Because of this issue, they occasionally carry out joint operations with the cult, which doesn’t even share the same religious code, but slight political and diplomatic disputes due to differences in beliefs often arise.

In addition, countless nations and races across the continent, along with many countries across the sea, are dealing with their own problems, mostly political, diplomatic, economic, and military. Some nations are even on the brink of collapse or bankruptcy.

In any case, it’s a world devoid of romance.

Maybe it’s because it’s a dark fantasy, but this level of chaos is unprecedented.

Still, it feels slightly better than the international community on Earth.

Anyway, the world is vast, and there are many crazy people.

So, there are indeed many problems in this world.

Of course, I was no exception either.

—

Episode 6 – The Betrayer of the Revolution

After the operation wrapped up, several issues arose. If I had to pinpoint them, they were more akin to changes than problems.

First of all, there were personnel changes.

The number of personnel in the 73 Task Force was halved. As soon as the operation concluded, the investigators from the Military Intelligence Agency’s Counterintelligence Department immediately returned to their home country. Since the Counterintelligence Department was the backbone of the 73 Task Force, half of the available personnel vanished in an instant.

Some people went missing.

I can no longer get in touch with Sophia. Whenever I call, it says the number doesn’t exist, and her office is already empty. According to the real estate office, she completely vacated her room. All her belongings have disappeared.

Fortunately, I managed to contact Dmitri, but he didn’t know Sophia’s whereabouts either. Fabio Verati cut off contact the moment he was repatriated. It was clear he went underground to escape the tracking of a third-party intelligence agency. Because of that, I couldn’t even say goodbye.

And lastly…

“Jake. I’m screwed.”

As I muttered with a serious face, Jake squinted at me.

“What’s wrong this time?”

“I have too much time on my hands.”

Time was dragging endlessly.

“Am I Bill Gates or something? Sitting around doing nothing but eating.”

I let out a curse and slumped onto the sofa.

“I don’t know who Bill Gates is, but aren’t you working right now?”

“What work?”

“Loafing around.”

I kicked Jake’s shin with my boot. But instead of the satisfying ‘thud’ sound I expected, all I heard was a weak ‘thud-thud.’

It was due to my position.

“Come on, just get up, please.”

“Never gonna happen.”

I let Jake’s grumbling flow in one ear and slumped onto the sofa.

In front of me was a TV, a remote control in my hand, and in the other, I held an ice cream tub. Right on the desk before me was a cold, half-eaten pizza.

Anyone could tell I was the very definition of idle. The difference being that I actually had a job, and this was my workplace.

Sure enough, Pippin, passing by, said, “Is this the representative office, or is it the manager’s home?”

“It’s like a family workplace.”

“Not a shitshow of a workplace?”

“Is there really a difference?”

“Oh gosh, I really can’t stand this…”

On the fifth floor of the magic tower’s Abas representative office, at a well-positioned office on the eastern end, I lay sprawled on the sofa, idly passing the time.

The reason I was doing this at work was simple.

“What am I supposed to do when there’s no work?”

There were no tasks to do.

Once the operation was over, my workload vanished like a mirage.

After all, what kind of operative would have tasks when an operation has already concluded? There are no operatives that don’t work, and all operatives are essentially corpses without their assignments.

Of course, once an operation ends, an operative’s job isn’t over.

Debriefings for superiors, generating documents for debriefing, and producing papers to distribute to other departments, among others. Only when all of these matters are resolved can the operation finally be considered over.

But I had wrapped all that up too.

Since I had completed everything I was supposed to do after the operation, I no longer counted as an operative. But I wasn’t a defense attaché either.

I was officially registered as a defense attaché, but that was merely a front. So I was in a somewhat ambiguous position when it came to saying I was a defense attaché.

Defense attachés are military personnel engaged in diplomatic activities, handling military diplomacy and intelligence collection. But who in their right mind would put a person passing through temporarily in charge of diplomacy and intelligence collection? There were so many defense attachés at the representative office. Plus, those attachés had been intelligence officers active in the magic tower for years now.

So, I was neither taking on missions nor carrying out orders.

I was just earning money for doing nothing.

“Jake.”

“Yeah.”

“Fetch me some snacks.”

“…….”

“Oh, and some soda too.”

I gestured for Jake, who eventually got me snacks and a drink.

“Look, everyone. Magic? Who needs such stuff? Just having power or a gun can make magic out of thin air.”

Pippin, who was fiddling with the device next to me, squinted his eyes.

“Rank is everything, huh?”

“And I have both.”

“Guns wouldn’t hurt if you handle them delicately, right?”

“Go try getting shot and let me know how it feels.”

Anyway, I had nothing to do.

Of course, I didn’t have completely zero work, but most of it involved listening to reports and writing them up to pass on to my superiors.

For instance, the status of the magic tower’s intelligence network, updates from the Kien Empire’s Reconnaissance Command’s magic tower branch, and movements at the magic tower representative office. Plus, there were the ongoing investigations into bomb threats by the Magic Tower Police and the Public Order Preservation Bureau. And I also had to look into Camila and Lucia’s daily activities or contacts.

It sounds like a lot when you list it all out, but most of that information was gathered by intelligence officers or operatives working in the magic tower. I hardly had any direct involvement in collecting data. The most I’d gathered was information on the Inquisition, the Magic Tower Police and counterintelligence agencies, and some intel about Camila and Lucia.

With the operation over, there was hardly anything to do. I was just checking the news to see how well I concealed the mess I caused. Anyway, the 73 Task Force was also on the verge of disbandment (this was just my assumption since there had been no official order), so there were no orders coming down.

That’s why I was sitting on the sofa munching on chips, watching TV.

Just as news broke about the heated protests on the lower floors of the magic tower, Jake turned to me and asked a question.

“By the way, what will happen to the task force?”

“They’ll disband. The project is over.”

The 73 Task Force was a task force.

A team formed temporarily to complete a specific mission. The mission of the 73 Task Force was to track down the intelligence agency that sent a spy to the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. Having tracked and retaliated, it’s only natural that the 73 Task Force would soon proceed with disbandment.

Upon hearing such a response, Pippin said, “But no directive to disband has come from above yet.”

“Either way, we had to part ways eventually. Does it make any difference if it’s a bit delayed?”

I tossed the empty chip bag into the trash.

“Are the employees safe?”

“They’ve already gone incognito. Everyone’s maintaining a low profile.”

They were all preparing to head back home. Getting caught at the last moment would lead to a dead-end in life, so it seems they were just trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

If things keep going like this, the 73 Task Force will disband. While the Humint sector indeed requires less funding than other divisions, intelligence agencies are groups that must efficiently manage a limited budget. Therefore, the 73 Task Force couldn’t avoid disbandment.

Unless some new assignment comes up suddenly.

Pippin handed me a report with a slightly disappointed expression.

“Here’s today’s update from the Reconnaissance Command.”

“Leave it there. I’ll check it out at the hotel.”

“Okay. But it’s a bit disappointing. We didn’t spend much time together, yet we worked together, after all.”

“That’s typical in the intelligence field. But we’ll meet again someday.”

Of course, that was a lie.

Based on my experience, there would be no opportunity to meet again with the personnel involved in the 73 Task Force. The Military Intelligence Agency wouldn’t allow it. They needed to maintain security. We would all scatter in different directions back to our own posts.

As I was flipping through the TV channels, an announcer informed the viewers that it was 6 o’clock. Work hours were over.

“Let’s call it a day. Just the on-call duty left, so turn off the lights and head out.”

Jake started gathering his things while Pippin organized the paperwork and asked me, “By the way, who was on duty today?”

I pointed to the board with my finger.

Today’s duty roster had ‘Pippin’ written on it.

“You.”

—

Pippin remained behind to take on the on-call shift. Jake returned to the representative office, claiming he left something behind, and given he hadn’t come into the hotel, it seemed he was still there.

“He hasn’t come out yet?”

-‘Yes. Mr. Jake has gone to the Defense Attaché Office. Is there something you want to pass along?’

“No. It’s fine.”

I ended the call with the representative office’s security staff (an outsourced employee managing access control).

I didn’t care what they were up to. Quite frankly, whether they were dating or not was irrelevant to me. As long as they didn’t get stabbed while walking down the street, I was good.

I put my prepaid phone back in my pocket and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in!”

As the door swung open, Camila greeted me enthusiastically, still radiating her vibrant energy.

“Sorry for dropping by at dinner time.”

“It’s alright!”

“Haha.”

While sharing light banter, I placed the energy drink (a premium, high-magic potion from the magic tower) on the table and comfortably settled into a spot on the sofa, guided by Camila.

“What brings you here?”

“No special reason, just thought I’d check in on how you’re doing. By the way, I noticed some guests around?”

I pointed to the robe sprawled across one side of the sofa and the cape draped against the wall. The cape was clearly that of a magician, while the robe, pure white, belonged to a priest.

There were only two people who would leave such belongings in Camila’s room:

The 59th Saint of the Cult, Lucia.
Francesca Ranieri, the Administrative Officer of the Magic Tower Secretariat and an Alchemist.

Sure enough, Camila made a slightly sheepish smile as she glanced at the robe and cape.

“Yes, they are both here.”

“Is that so? I hope I’m not intruding.”

Camila smiled and gently shook her head, “It’s fine!”

Lucia had been staying with Camila since coming to the magic tower, so that made sense. But Francesca Ranieri’s visit was unexpected. Had they already gotten close in less than a week since arriving at the hotel?

I couldn’t tell if it was Camila’s friendliness or Francesca Ranieri’s charm at play.

While I pondered this, a voice came from afar.

“Who has come?”

Speaking of the devil, Francesca Ranieri’s voice came through the slightly ajar door.

“…Ah, it’s the Colonel.”

“Nice to see you, Administrator. What brings you here? I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I just came to have a quick chat. There’s no harm in getting friendly.”

She came all this way for a social visit.

I shook hands with Francesca Ranieri while recalling the information I had about her.

Descendant of the founder of the magic tower. An Alchemist from the Trinity Agency. Comes from a prestigious family in Patalia. An employee of the magic tower. Administrative officer at the Secretariat. One of the heirs for the Oracle position that will soon be vacant.

And on top of that, a target of the National Security Agency’s surveillance. A family of public security offenders.

“……”

Not exactly an appealing resume.

I could quickly tell she had likely had a rough upbringing without even needing to look at the intelligence reports from the Royal Intelligence Department or Military Intelligence Agency.

And I also instinctively knew that if she hadn’t genuinely come to socialize, there had to be some ulterior motives at play.

As for Lucia, she was a savvy enough politician to handle herself, so I didn’t need to worry about her. But if the Alchemist tried to use her connections with Lucia, the Inquisition, pretending to be her aide, would cut her down swiftly. Literally or politically.

The issue was with Camila.

“…Is Lucia inside?”

“Oh, the Saint is in there.”

Francesca Ranieri nodded her head in the direction of the inner room.

Right, as long as Lucia was beside her, everything should be fine. Lucia was the closest person to Camila here. If something went awry, she would step up to resolve it, and if worse came to worst, she would discreetly inform me.

But just in case, I considered whether I should plant a listening device in the Alchemist’s room when—

Beep beep beep!

My phone rang.

Francesca Ranieri and Camila exchanged puzzled glances, and I awkwardly chuckled.

“It’s my phone. I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Take your time!”

I watched the two leave and took my phone out from my pocket.

On the small screen of the prepaid phone, an unfamiliar contact appeared.

Who is this?

“Hello?”

I pressed the call button and brought it to my ear.

At that moment, a familiar voice came through the line.

-‘This isn’t how you answer the phone.’

“Oh crap.”

It was that lunatic!