A Dark Fantasy Spy

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There are several ways for an information officer to spend their vacation, but the most typical is travel.

However, traveling abroad is not an option.

Due to the nature of intelligence agencies, having staff travel overseas entails numerous risks.

As a result, information officers usually travel abroad only during special moments like honeymoons or after retirement, opting for domestic trips while still active.

In that context, it wouldn’t be problematic for me to travel within Abas on my vacation, but things would change if I moved with my colleagues.

Camilla, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica were definitely not ordinary civilians.

It’s still uncertain.

But one thing is clear.

“…I’ll just make a quick phone call.”

This vacation also seems destined to be anything but relaxing.

—

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

Two saints, a high-ranking official from a prestigious magic tower, one hero, and an information officer.

Looks like I’m going on a trip with four troublemakers who’d stir up issues no matter where they are.

The trip suggested by my colleagues was fraught with problems, primarily political, diplomatic, and security-related.

Lucia and Veronica couldn’t move without being accompanied by attendants and knights from the Inquisition. Francesca, a high-ranking official from the magic tower, was no exception. Of course, Camilla was the same. With these four moving together, there was no way to ignore the need for security and protocol.

Moreover, the relationship between the cult and the magic tower was so bad that a war could break out at any moment. No matter how much Lucia and Francesca were bound together by prophecy, there were plenty of people who would feel uncomfortable simply having the two of them breathe the same air.

The stance of Abas was the same.

Even considering the inconvenience of being stuck between the cult and the magic tower, if anything happened to these four on Abas territory, the first to get blamed would be Abas itself.

Regrettably, I was a civil servant who relied on the Abas government for my livelihood.

I decided to report this issue to the higher-ups.

At the very least, the government should have some information to make a judgment, and they needed to make some decisions to resolve the situation smoothly. I had a bad feeling about it, but I figured it was best to at least inform them.

About thirty minutes later, orders came down from the Military Intelligence Agency.

-‘After consultation, the matter has been entrusted to you.’

“What?”

-‘Sorry, Frederick. It just ended up this way.’

The Military Intelligence Agency had decided to dump all the issues onto me.

I stared blankly at the wall while holding the receiver. Why does my bad feeling always turn out to be right?

Clevens quickly summarized the conversation exchanged between the Abas government and various nations and the consultations between the government departments.

-‘We’ve received a request from the cult and the magic tower’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They are asking for minimal personnel to ensure nothing goes wrong and for us to manage the situation quietly.’

The Abas government, having received a formal request from the cult and magic tower, decided to proceed unofficially with the schedule. Since they were not entering officially for governmental business and hoped to enjoy their vacation quietly, the Abas government coordinated with other nations to not provide formal protocol or security.

Of course, it was explained that while they didn’t provide formal protocol like a state visit, all possible measures were taken.

-‘For now, their entry will be kept confidential. We’re currently making arrangements to prevent any news leaks.’

“Is that really possible?”

-‘Oh, you know how we handle these things with discreet envoys…’

The Abas government kept the entry of Camilla, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica a strict secret, just like they would for a deputy foreign minister or other government officials sent on special diplomatic missions.

This was good news. If the fact that the four of them entered got to the media, all sorts of rumors and speculation would surely ensue.

Fortunately, the Abas government, after discussions with various nations, decided to exercise flexibility and mobilize minimal personnel.

The problem is,

“How on earth am I supposed to handle this alone? Huh?”

That minimum personnel is me.

-‘Well, why didn’t you just handle it better? It seems you naturally bring chaos wherever you go. What a mess on your first day of vacation…’

“Are you seriously saying that?”

-‘Don’t overthink it. It’s not like anyone’s telling you to prepare formal protocols and security. Just act like you normally do.’

Just do whatever I want. It’s not like I’m on some nightclub stage showing off. This is madness.

Caught off guard by the situation, I stammered in shock, and Clevens’s blunt voice continued over the receiver.

-‘It’s an unofficial schedule anyway. Since it’s not an official agenda and considering the positions of the cult and magic tower, we need to handle everything as quietly as possible, and right now, there’s no one but you who can do this.’

“What do you mean by that?”

-‘It means you’re the only one who can host a saint from the cult, a magician from the magic tower, and a hero all at once.’

It was a statement that, whether dealing with diplomatic issues or societal problems, I was the only one who could quietly handle things without raising eyebrows from all those important figures.

-‘If something goes wrong because of a mistake by a Ministry of Foreign Affairs official, it’ll just be a hassle for the government. An information officer like you, who knows them personally, won’t face the same backlash.’

“Ah, I see.”

-‘Even if you make a mistake, at least it won’t be seen as a major diplomatic incident. Since you’re all colleagues bound by the same prophecy, you’re not strangers who’d just meet once in a blue moon.’

“That’s true, but…”

If a foreign service official made a mistake, it’d be an irreparable diplomatic disaster, but if I messed up while hosting, I could cover it up with personal ties.

Whether they’d actually consider my blunder as a minor issue or if the Abas government would throw me under the bus to evade responsibility was uncertain, but for now, that’s how it stood.

They say you pick up skills once you’re thrown into the fray, and I must say Clevens was living proof of that.

-‘But that’s not the only reason we’re assigning this to you.’

“Huh?”

What could he possibly mean by that?

The head of the counterintelligence division cleared his throat before continuing.

-‘Well… You might not know yet, but there are very few people in the government who are as informed about those four as you are. The hero, of course, but there’s almost no known information about the two saints and the magician.’

“Ah…”

-‘Since both the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Intelligence Agency lack information, it’s inevitable that issues may arise in protocols and security. In that sense, you, who have spent months with them, are the best fit for the job. You could even be considered an expert in that field.’

That much was true. There were hardly any others in the Abas government who knew Camilla, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica as well as I did.

Clevens spoke to me in a concerned tone.

-‘Even though you’re an information officer, right now, you’re also their colleague. At least on the surface, anyway. That could be seen as a stepping stone in your career.’

“……”

-‘So, don’t overthink it; keep it simple. Ultimately, as long as nothing problematic happens, that’s all that matters, right?’

“……”

-‘Anyway, stop worrying and enjoy your vacation.’

—

After a stormy period, calm finally settled. Following the government’s policy (or rather, the Military Intelligence Agency’s orders), I assigned rooms to the guests who had arrived.

“The rooms are upstairs, and bedding has been prepared in each room for your convenience. If you need anything, just let me know. And when you do go out, try to avoid actions that would make your identities conspicuous. Regardless of your location, please keep communication devices on you at all times and remember the embassy’s emergency contacts and the local police, fire department, and hospital numbers.”

As I relayed the precautions sent by the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs (typical warnings for overseas travels) and introduced the townhouse, lunchtime rolled around.

“What are you planning for lunch?”

Camilla, who was looking around the room, replied.

“I don’t have anything in mind. Let’s just keep it simple!”

“Are you seriously going to eat like that after snacking so much?”

“Ugh…!”

Ignoring the fuming Camilla, I turned to Francesca.

“What are you planning, Administrator?”

“Going out seems like a stretch, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose going out unprepared is a bit…”

Although the Abas government kept the arrivals of the four under wraps, launching into external activities immediately felt unrealistic.

To prevent various scandals and suspicions from surfacing, the government had deployed press officers to stifle media reporting and urged us to postpone any public activities until a safe location was secured.

Thus, we couldn’t even go to a hotel but were quietly stuck in the townhouse. The hotel was just too conspicuous.

“The government is in the process of finding a safe hotel, so please bear with the inconvenience for just a little longer. It will be resolved soon.”

“Hmm, I can’t help but feel this was a bit of an excessive visit.”

“Oh, come on. That’s precisely what civil servants are for.”

I jested while internally cursing the government. To throw national matters at someone on vacation? I might just file a complaint with the labor department.

But as a civil servant, it wouldn’t be right to voice such complaints outwardly.

“Think of it as your home, and feel free to make yourselves comfortable.”

“But who uses this place? It’s way too spacious for one person.”

“My brother and sister work nearby, so they stay here when commuting. They are both civil servants. As for me, I live at the official residence.”

“Oh right, you’re a soldier.”

As I answered Camilla’s curious question while she wandered around the townhouse, Francesca, who had gone downstairs, returned with her luggage.

To help out, I took a few of the bags from her.

“Let’s carry them together.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“You have quite a bit of luggage. What’s that?”

As I lifted a suitcase, I pointed to the long bag slung over Francesca’s shoulder. It didn’t look like an ordinary bag for regular items.

Francesca glanced at the bag resting on her shoulder and spoke.

“Oh, this? It’s something I brought from my homeland.”

“Patalia? What on earth did you bring?”

Francesca opened the bag and revealed its contents to me.

“A military sword…?”

It was a sword—a ceremonial one used by the military.

Although many armies had replaced ceremonial swords with bayonets since firearms became prevalent, the armed forces in this fantasy world still maintained the use of military swords.

For sorcerers who can only enhance the body with magic, a sword was a handy weapon. In countries where firearm possession was limited to a select few, such as agents along demilitarized zones, civilians frequently used swords as well.

Caressing the handle of the sword adorned with its distinctive patterns, Francesca smiled softly.

“That’s right. It’s a sword I inherited in childhood.”

“I didn’t know you could handle a sword. I thought you were from a prestigious magic family.”

“Just because I’m a magician doesn’t mean I’m bound to only use magic. In fact, I grew up hearing that a lot.”

Francesca said this while gazing down at her sword with a smile.

This was an intriguing fact that wasn’t documented in the Royal Intelligence Department archives. I wanted to ask where she had acquired the saber, but judging by her reactions, I figured she wouldn’t reveal that much.

I silently nodded and continued organizing her luggage. It seemed I had something new to report.

As I was tidying up the luggage with Francesca, I suddenly realized that Lucia was nowhere to be seen.

“By the way, where did Saint Lucia go?”

“Ah, Lucia?”

Camilla, who was carrying a small amount of her own luggage, pointed toward the back of the townhouse.

“I think I saw her go out to the backyard earlier.”

“…Is that so?”

Guess that means.

“I’ll be stepping out for a moment. If you need assistance, feel free to call for me.”

“Okay.”

—

The townhouse owned by my relatives in the affluent area resembled a standalone house.

Although the front yard was non-existent due to regulations from the Abas Ministry of Land Development (there wasn’t enough land, so having one would incur additional taxes), we did have a backyard.

Years ago, houses with backyards used to be subject to a separate tax known as ‘yard tax,’ but persistent petitions from wealthy individuals who bought homes in the capital for ‘personal spaces separate from living areas,’ led to a gradual easing of regulations.

Opening the door to the townhouse’s backyard reveals a wide-open space. A low wall made of red bricks surrounds the yard like a fortress, while neat shrubs and herbaceous plants stand tall, forming a natural fence.

In this secretive backyard, reminiscent of a small garden, was one person.

“Saint Lucia?”

Upon hearing her name, Lucia flinched slightly.

Looking into the distance, she turned her head slightly and, like a child caught doing something bad, hurriedly placed her left hand on her waist.

“Did you call for me?”

“I couldn’t see you, so I came looking.”

I placed my hands in my pockets and slowly walked over to Lucia. While she smiled warmly, there was an evident sense of discomfort.

As I suspected, what she hid was a cigarette.

After 28 years of not smoking, I could easily catch the faint smell of smoke.

“You don’t have to hide it. Feel free to continue.”

“…Did you know?”

She didn’t ask what I knew, but there was no one here who wouldn’t know what that was.

I briefly nodded, and Lucia, with a pained smile as if caught in a lie, unveiled the hand she had been hiding.

I recognized at a glance what she was holding.

“Is that a cigarillo? You don’t seem to carry a cutter with you.”

“You can tell?”

“I used to smoke cigars. I had switched to cigarillos occasionally when I was without a cutter or knife.”

“Aha….”

Lucia was holding a cigarillo.

Unlike regular thick cigars, cigarillos are thin and commonly available at convenience stores.

Due to their small size, they can be enjoyed in significantly less time than traditional cigars, and since both ends are open, there’s no need to awkwardly carry around a cutter or punch to poke holes in them.

More importantly, unlike using a dedicated lighter for toasting (a method of heating the foot of a cigar for it to burn smoothly), they are quite convenient. That’s why cigarillos are sometimes called mini cigars.

I used to stock up on them whenever I went to Cuba.

I never expected to see one here.

With the cigarillo in her hand, Lucia asked me with an awkward smile.

“Were you a smoker?”

“I used to be. I’m currently on a break.”

“I see. You’re on a break and smoking… how inconsiderate of me.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve been off it long enough that it doesn’t bother me. Please feel free to smoke.”

Having come across a cigar after 28 years, I wanted to borrow one, but asking for a cigar just after saying I was on a break would seem quite indecorous.

I went back inside the house for a moment and returned with a bottle of Scotch whiskey (saved by older brother Jerry) and two glasses.

“Here you go.”

“You really don’t need to…”

Lucia accepted the glass, looking apologetic. I sat down with her, and we sipped the liquor while admiring the well-kept garden.

As Lucia inhaled the aroma of the whiskey in her glass, she exclaimed in delight.

“Oh, it’s Scotch.”

“That’s right.”

Whiskey and cigars. This has been a hobby I’ve enjoyed for quite some time after meeting a British friend through an American acquaintance.

“I’ve never had anyone serve me a drink before.”

“You’ve probably had it before, right?”

“Who taught you that?”

“Saint Veronica did.”

“Oh.”

Lucia winced slightly, as if struck by the confession. It was no wonder she felt embarrassed to have shared a secret she had kept from others with her sister.

“You seriously said not to tell anyone…”

“She’s quite chatty. No way she wouldn’t have let it slip.”

“I feel bad saying this, but can you keep this a secret?”

“That’s my job!”

“True, you’re a soldier after all…”

Having heard my answer, Lucia smiled faintly. I’m a soldier, but not quite in the way she imagined; I’m an information officer, but I didn’t correct her misunderstanding since it wasn’t entirely wrong.

Beneath the sunny sky, as the warm rays shone down on the yard, we started discussing various topics.

“Are you very close with Saint Veronica?”

“You’ve likely heard, but yes, we are quite close.”

“I’ve heard you were her attendant before she was canonized.”

“Technically, I am still not officially recognized as a saint, but I’ve followed Sister Veronica since childhood. I’ve learned so much from her.”

Our conversation primarily centered around Veronica.

I wasn’t particularly devout to have deep spiritual conversations with her; Veronica and I weren’t particularly well-acquainted, so I naturally brought her up since she was the most familiar subject.

With the kind of work I do, it wasn’t hard to keep the conversation flowing.

“How close are you two?”

“We’ve known each other since childhood, so I’d say we’re quite close.”

“That would mean you’re more than just acquaintances.”

“I suppose you could say that. By the way, how did you meet Sister Veronica?”

“She once treated me and made arrangements for me.”

“Ah…”

Lucia bit her lip, seemingly apologetic.

“I’m sorry to bring that up. It must be a bad memory.”

“No, not at all. Injuries happen often on duty, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“…Pardon?”

“I’m saying you don’t need to worry. So, how do you and your sister spend your time together?”

“My sister and I… well…”

Lucia seemed to ponder for a moment, lowering her gaze slightly. After a brief silence as I tried to refocus her attention, Lucia, resting her chin on her hand, appeared to deliberate before finally responding.

“While we often discuss the Bible and history, we mainly share conversations about faith and personal matters.”

“Oh, is it gossip about the cardinals?”

“Yes. She always called them old fogies. Even when I told her not to say bad things, she just insisted.”

Since long before becoming a saint, Lucia had familiar relationships with Veronica. Lucia has said she learned various things, mostly stories from Veronica’s travels around the world.

“We’ve had engaging conversations on various topics. I learned quite a bit.”

“Then, did Sister Veronica introduce you to whiskey and cigars as well?”

“Oh, that’s a bit tough to talk about…”

I hadn’t noticed before, but Lucia was actually quite entertaining to tease. She had quite a range of reactions.

While Veronica loved to pull pranks on me, Francesca was never one for hilarity as she laid an imposing initial impression. Now our relationship had improved, but they maintained a level of professionalism due to their working ties.

Of course, there were exceptions like Camilla. While our relationship had professional ties, it wasn’t strictly so.

Camilla also reacts entertainingly to a little teasing, but lately, she seems a bit indifferent, possibly developing a tolerance for it.

Meanwhile, Lucia was someone with whom you could easily share playful jests, since she displayed amusing responses with very little provocation. I really should maintain good relations with both Camilla and Lucia, as long as it doesn’t veer too far into business.

Yet, reflecting on it now, it seems I’m surrounded by nothing but eccentric individuals.

A saint and a magician involved in espionage, an arsonist who aspires to be a spy, and a saint who secretly smokes and drinks while running around treating people.

How on earth did I end up being the only sane one? Maybe it’s a sign of our crazy world.

As I pondered over this absurd social circle, Lucia retrieved a portable ashtray and placed her spent cigarillo inside.

“Do you carry an ashtray around with you?”

“You can’t just throw litter around, can you?”

“…But why are you pulling out another cigar?”

“Just one more…”

“……”

A saint who’s serious about smoking—this is insanity!

Lucia, eyeing me subtly, withdrew another cigarillo. She seemed self-conscious about smoking in the backyard of someone else’s home.

“You can relax. There are plenty of people who smoke around here.”

“Is it really okay?”

Lucia smiled awkwardly, unlike a saint. I didn’t understand why she seemed so tentative when she was already caught smoking.

“Fine, I’ll smoke with you then.”

I took a cigarillo from Lucia.

Lucia expertly lit it with her lighter. As I lacked one, I had no choice but to borrow fire from her.

“Fire, please.”

“Oh, here it is.”

“That’s too far.”

“Then closer…”

After 28 years of staying off tobacco, it felt oddly ironic that the first cigarette I’d light would be from a saint. I couldn’t shake the feeling of how absurd this situation was.

Just as I was asking for permission to lean in close and borrow fire, someone slammed into my back and whispered in my ear.

“What are you two doing?”

“Oh, damn! You scared me!”

“I’m smoking too!”

“Couldn’t you have at least knocked before barging in, you crazy lady?”

It was Veronica!