A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

The night spent in one of the few remaining communist-socialist countries on Earth isn’t so bad after all.

Coke cheaper than water and the exotic nighttime streets. Thanks to the socialist dictatorship, the law and order are not too shabby.

In fact, if someone saw an Asian in plain clothes watching cable TV in the naval base permanently leased by the Americans, where Fidel Castro supposedly still has his bright blue eyes open, they might feel something’s off. But that’s as far as it goes.

No one asks about affiliations or the purpose of the visit. The guard at the entrance didn’t, nor did the sergeant passing through the hallway, and neither does the soldier standing at the door right now.

So, I comfortably sit in a chair and light up a cigarillo that Cuban workers have peddled in the black market.

…Sizzle!

Smoke rises into the air.

As the pale breath reaches the ceiling and disperses, fluent English starts echoing from the corner TV.

There stood the American president, calmly addressing the audience.

[I have said repeatedly that America doesn’t torture.]

Oh, what a voice!

[I’m going to make sure that we don’t torture.]

His pronunciation was impressively fluent. Must be a seasoned senator with a smooth voice. I took a portable ashtray out of my pocket and flicked it.

While enjoying the president’s answer in his neat suit, I heard a somewhat awkward exclamation from behind. It was in Korean.

‘Hey, what the heck is that?’

A slightly chubby white guy with horn-rimmed glasses pointed at the TV and asked.

‘Michael’s here? After a few years in Pyeongtaek, he’s practically one of us now. Even swears. Is this his first time seeing it from Cuba?’

‘Kim, I’m so glad to see you right now. What’s that guy doing?’

‘What, Obama? He’s your president, right? Why act like it’s the first time seeing him…’

In response to that remark, the president on TV began answering a question from the host.

[Those are part and parcel an effort to regain America’s moral stature in the world.]

Then, an ex-employee from the U.S. military stationed in Korea muttered in disbelief.

‘What is he talking about now?’

‘Obama said, ‘I keep saying that America doesn’t torture. We absolutely won’t torture. Anyway, we won’t, and I don’t know the details~’ right?’

‘…I’m a native speaker, you know?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

With casual chit-chat, my American friend extended his fist in greeting after three minutes of being in the room. It was our first decent greeting.

I managed a slight smile and asked him.

‘So, why are you here? Other guys are taking my place. The Cuban family.’

‘I came about that. They’re looking for you inside.’

‘Now?’

‘yup.’

‘Got it, if they say to work, I have to go. Just started adjusting to the time zone, and already they make me work…’

‘That’s how company life is. Since the building was rented for a whole year, take it slow.’

‘Thanks. It was tough finding you because it was urgent.’

‘What’s with this kind of thing?’

I opened the door and tossed the cigarette butt on the floor. The wind blew, scattering the sand, and the American flag hanging from the flagpole proudly waved.

I passed under that flag, crossing between the terrorists caged up wearing masks and blindfolds, and reached some makeshift building.

The structure looked like a cut-in-half barrel lying down. It resembled an igloo at an airport and housed colleagues from the company and one red.

The red was dangling from the ceiling. With a visual straight out of a third-rate slasher film.

As I grasped the iron door and half-leaned in, my colleague standing nearby greeted me wearily.

‘You’re here?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘That red we caught from Venezuela. He won’t give us the answers we need and just babbles. Can you do something about it?’

‘Oh, I just got here. I was told to help right after getting my entry stamp. What’s he babbling about?’

‘Apparently, what we’re doing is illegal. Ugh, what was it again? What law?’

‘Hughes-Ryan Act.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s the anti-torture law, you idiot. How did you even pass the written test? This is basic knowledge, for crying out loud.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Ah, I don’t care about that. I just want to smoke. Can you make him shut up somehow? I’m exasperated to the core….’

‘Got it.’

‘Oh, right. I want a cigarette too.’

Taking out a new cigarette, we lit them together.

The colleague who got the cigarette gestured for the Cuban crew to step out for a moment, and I approached the red while taking a few puffs.

‘Hey, red? Can you hear me?’

‘…….’

‘Looks like you picked up something strange somewhere…. The Hughes-Ryan Act only bans torture within the U.S. And the Korean laws also protect criminal suspects during interrogation and at trial in cases of assault or threats, you know?’

Ugh.

‘This is Cuba, you idiot. Not American soil.’

With a long puff of smoke, the discarded cigarette butt flew through the air in a parabola. It landed behind a vinyl sheet laid on the floor after a brief glide. The room was tightly packed with sheets laid by the employees.

Before I knew it, the break time seemed to have ended, and employees began to file in, with my American friend signaling to me to contact him when I finished.

‘Let’s wrap this up neatly and get out.’

The door closed.

‘I could do this all day.’

Darkness.

It was dark.

—–

Episode 7 – Daily Life

Time flowed and flowed, and soon November was just around the corner. The time that passed unceasingly felt frustratingly quick, like the giant’s footsteps were relentless.

Lucia still remained in the Magic Tower, continuing medical activities for emergency patients and the poor. With the new pope’s coronation and the second saint’s birth approaching, the cult prepared for the grandest canonization ceremony ever, but Lucia, the main star of the ceremony, seemed indifferent to it all.

Veronica moved between the Magic Tower and the cult, assisting Lucia. Her ability to represent the emperor shone in the complex political landscape. As soon as Veronica grasped the chaotic climate of ducal and terrorist political dealings, she hurriedly threw herself into the Magic Tower. Although she explained it was to broaden her influence within the cult using the power of diplomacy and international politics, one couldn’t help but feel that she appeared more worried about Lucia’s safety, looking at her like Lucia was some child left by the shore.

Francesca Ranieri finished her personal appointments and returned to the Secretariat. To be precise, she had visited the grave of the late eldest son of the Ranieri family and spent a short time in Patalia; she would soon be entering the Magic Tower.

“Yeah, I read the brief, Sophia. You mean Ranieri is coming back tonight, right?”

-‘That’s right.’

“I’ve checked the gate entrance and the time, so I’ll send the kids. They’ve been anxious for over a week; now it’s time you all take some rest. Good job.”

-‘Doing our job is just normal, so why the praise?’

As the resident representative in the Magic Tower, I received that piece of news from Sophia, who works for the National Security Agency of Patalia.

“Oh, and about Ranieri. Nothing unusual happened in Patalia?”

-‘There was a bit of commotion back home… but nothing to be concerned about.’

“What kind of commotion?”

-‘The Ranieri family contacted Francesca first.’

Suddenly, I remembered what Leoni had said before. Francesca had agreed to sever ties with her family as a condition for studying abroad at the Magic Tower. I heard she even went to the National Security Agency office herself to sign, stamp her seal, and even took an oath.

But the family reached out first. What a surprise.

“They can’t be that clueless about the meaning of oaths for magicians. Are they even a legitimate magic family?”

-‘How would I know? Who knows what they’re plotting? Anyway, the Ranieri side reached out first by sending a servant, but the headquarters is currently grasping the details.’

“Alright. Pass anything that comes up to me right away. I’ll contact you if anything happens too. You are working hard dealing with all the civilians.”

-‘How about having a drink once you’re back at the Magic Tower?’

I lightly shook my head.

“When you come back, I’ll have returned.”

-‘Oh, really? What a pity. Then see you later, Merlo.’

“See you later, Sophia.”

There was a minor incident, but it seems Francesca is returning safely. Lucia, Veronica, and Francesca are all doing their parts well. Now there’s just one left.

I hung up the call connected to the security line and looked out the window.

Outside, the dark blue sky of the Magic Tower spread out. Beneath that dark sky, brilliant lights gathered into streams, veins extending down the streets as people bustled about.

Sitting in the dim office, looking at the splendid night view made me suddenly crave a cigarette, but the fact that I hadn’t smoked in 28 years suddenly struck me, and I smacked my lips.

Unconsciously moving my hand rummaging through my pocket, I picked up the receiver. This time, it was a regular line.

I heard the dial tone, and after a moment:

-Clunk.

With the sound of the receiver being lifted, the other party answered the phone.

-‘…Tsk. Hello?’

“Hey, Camila.”

-‘Oh, Colonel!’

It’s Camila.

-‘Are you still at the embassy?’

“No, I’m at the representative office. But what about you?”

-‘Yeah.’

“Are you eating anything right now?”

-‘…….’

An awkward silence hung for a moment. About two seconds.

-‘…Uh, no? I’m not eating! Trying to control my weight, you know.’

“…….”

I covered the receiver with my hand and let out a deep sigh.

“…Hoo.”

I really can’t deal anymore.