A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The old bar. A tavern that rednecks might frequent. Jazz flowed from the jukebox. Tired and aging white men hastily downed whiskey from shot glasses.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Ding.

Customers briefly glanced at the Asian who had wandered into the bar at such a late hour, but only for a moment. They soon turned their attention back to their orders.

Having arrived at the destination listed in the secure email, I joined a white man who was drinking alone across the table.

“It’s been a while, Michael.”

“Oh. Who’s this?”

My American friend greeted me warmly with a soft smile.

“It’s good to see you here in America, Mr. Kim. Or is today another persona?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I take a look at your ID?”

I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and handed it over.

My American friend peered at the somewhat faded California driver’s license and laughed, raising his beer glass.

“Yujin Choi. Who on earth is this? Some long-dead Russian rock singer? Or a character from a Netflix drama?”

“How am I supposed to know? Either a Korean from our embassy with a passport or just an idiot who dropped his ID on the street.”

“That’s hilarious. Anyway, welcome back to America, friend.”

An American who used to be in the military in South Korea welcomed me back to his hometown in fluent Korean.

I didn’t know his hometown, his background, or his experience. All I knew was that he had worked at the Pyeongtaek military base and that his name was Michael. Those two things were probably the only truths.

Maybe.

“Is this your hometown? I thought you were from Virginia.”

“Well, hometowns change all the time. Texas is pretty nice, though. I think you’d like it.”

“I’m not a cowboy.”

“Why not get a hat? My colleague’s father has a farm nearby; you could go pet some horses. Do you know how to ride?”

“No. But you’re not a cowboy either, are you?”

“Actually, I’m a redneck. I’ve got an ex-wife, a shotgun, and most importantly, I live in a trailer with my mom.”

“Don’t kid around. You drop the kids off at school every morning.”

“‘Cause you’re a bit cold.”

Michael downed his beer and leaned back, savoring the flavor.

“How was the trip to Cuba?”

“It was good. But I never left the base.”

Buzz. An alarm went off. It was an email.

I opened my phone to check the email and immediately dove into the main topic with Michael.

“I need a favor.”

“A favor? Sure. Buy me a drink.”

I ordered two bourbons from the bartender. He flashed a bright smile and served the whiskey with familiar motions.

As the bartender took his tip and left, Michael savored a sip of bourbon.

“Nice. Really nice… So, what can I do for our 70-year alliance?”

“I need to make a trip to South America. The weapons and funds are ready, but the local situation isn’t simple.”

“You mean you want to use our company’s assets? Sure. But where are we talking about?”

“Caracas.”

Michael’s face, which had been relaxed while sipping bourbon, suddenly stiffened. It grew cold.

“…Venezuela? You must be kidding, right?”

“No.”

“These guys are out of their minds… Hey, friend. That country’s close with North Korea. What do you think will happen if you stick your head out over there?”

“The target isn’t Venezuela. It’s the reds.”

I opened my phone to show Michael the email that had just arrived.

“The North Koreans are scheming in Venezuela. You know as well as I do that countries like Venezuela, Cuba, and Iran are friendly with North Korea. They’re trying to band together since the US is slamming sanctions on them.”

“…I know. Well aware.”

“The issues in Central and South America aren’t really our concern, but North Korea is a different story. I’m going to investigate it. If I find out what they’re doing in Venezuela, I’ll inform your company as well.”

“…Are you going alone?”

“No.”

“…A joint operation.”

“Exactly. So, will you help me? Or are you just going to keep drinking?”

Michael stroked his thick jaw and nodded with a rosy face.

“Why not? Let’s do it.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“After work, drop by Germany. I’ll buy you a drink while I’m there.”

“Sounds good. Where do I go?”

“Ramstein.”

“I’ll contact you when I’m done.”

I shook Michael’s thick hand with both of mine to bid farewell. The surroundings blurred as Michael’s smile seemed to warp like it was being sucked into a black hole. The table flipped and rose to the ceiling. The world turned upside down.

“See you in Germany, friend. Don’t get hurt.”

I felt darkness close in, my ears ringing.

It was blackout.

—

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

I lay in bed receiving IV fluids. Camila and Francesca had stepped outside to check on things.

The remaining people in the infirmary were Lucia and me. After a brief commotion, Lucia examined my condition while administering the IV.

“Hmm…”

“What’s the matter?”

Lucia removed the blood pressure cuff from my arm, uttering a strange hum.

“My blood pressure is returning to normal. However, since I can’t determine your exact condition, you shouldn’t overexert yourself for the time being.”

“What do you mean by overexerting?”

“I suspect it’s what you’re imagining.”

So she meant not to fight. Damn.

I sighed deeply, covering my forehead with my newly healed left arm.

“I don’t know how many terrorists are left, and I don’t know when we can go outside, yet you tell me not to fight? Do you really think that makes sense?”

“You seem to be listening to my words just like the guys who are brought into the triage ward.”

Lucia, a healing priestess, organized her tools while chastising me.

I almost replied to Lucia’s reprimand, but the image of the table shaking with one punch made me seal my lips.

“So, when will we discuss dark magic?”

“First, you should rest. Don’t think about anything.”

“And how long must I rest?”

“Until you finish the IV.”

I decided to follow Lucia’s instructions without further complaint. It wasn’t because I was scared; it was out of respect for Lucia’s concern for my health. Probably.

As she finished organizing her surroundings and cautiously sat down, she stared at me for a while before unexpectedly asking, “Why do you fight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking if there’s really a need to fight against the terrorists.”

I slightly turned my head to meet Lucia’s gaze. Her eyes were blue, akin to Camila’s, but had a slightly brighter tint.

Looking into Lucia’s clear autumn sky-blue eyes, I turned away and bluntly replied.

“So you want me to just sit here and die? Do you know what they might do?”

“Fighting isn’t always the answer.”

“Maybe not, depending on the situation.”

Talking with someone of a different perspective can be tiring. Lucia and I were clearly on different paths.

I wasn’t keen on dragging this topic out with Lucia, but alas, Lucia was a saint of the cult. So, I mumbled an answer that wasn’t really an answer.

“Being human means we don’t always need to have a reason behind our actions.”

“…….”

“But if Saint Lucia really wants an explanation, all I can say is that it’s because that’s my job.”

Lucia didn’t respond. Actually, she seemed about to say something but only moved her lips without producing any sound.

After a time of hesitating, Lucia finally spoke up in a worried tone.

“You might actually end up back there.”

“…….”

“This is already the third time you’ve skirted death, isn’t it?”

Three times. That must be true.

The first was when I carelessly stepped into a neurotoxin.

The second was during a shootout with the Recon Command that raided the safe house.

The third was the terrorism I unwittingly got caught up in during vacation.

Interestingly enough, Lucia had some connection to all three incidents. She was next to me when I was affected by the neurotoxin, she noticed when I collapsed after drinking the chemical, and now she was tangled in the current terrorist situation. It felt like a bizarre twist of fate. A story like this would be panned if written.

Thinking back, it seemed I was the type to ruin my life whenever I got involved with saints.

Not just Lucia, but Veronica too, of course. If it hadn’t been for Veronica, I wouldn’t have been deeply entangled with the Imperial Guard from the start.

“…….”

As I sat quietly pondering my ties with the saints, Lucia asked an odd question.

“Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

That was quite a philosophical question. At the same time, a familiar one. Death was ubiquitous in this world.

Lucia stared at me without blinking, and I met her gaze and lost myself in thought.

Drip. Drip. The IV fluid accumulated in the drip chamber, flowing down the tube. Fresh fluid dropped in droplets.

“Well, I haven’t really thought about it much. But isn’t it just a part of life?”

“You seem calmer than expected.”

With those words, Lucia fell silent, appearing lost in her thoughts.

As I watched Lucia’s profile, I smiled softly and answered her question.

“Hey, maybe I’ve died once already.”

—

Lucia remained in the infirmary caring for the injured. Thankfully, my condition had improved and there was no more bleeding.

Just around the time Lucia was set to declare I could get up, Camila and Francesca returned.

Francesca, who had surveyed the area nearby, set down her sword and took a break, and Camila handed me a water bottle she had picked up somewhere.

“Drink this.”

“Ah, thanks.”

After finishing a bottle of mineral water, I turned to Lucia, who was busy doing something in a corner.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m burning incense to mask the scent.”

“Masking the scent?”

“There was a beastman among the terrorists. They might track us down by scent, so we need to cover it up. I’ve been burning it since a while ago. Did you not notice?”

I hadn’t. There was no smoke or smell.

Lucia, who was burning the incense in a small glass dish, said it was something you wouldn’t know unless you were paying close attention.

Camila examined the incense burning without producing any smoke, marveling at it.

“Wow. Where did you get something like this?”

At that question, Lucia suddenly had a look of realization. It was a natural reaction. This incense was something a smoker would use to mask the smell of smoke. It was probably something Lucia normally carried.

In the military or intelligence agencies, similar items are used when trying to avoid detection by search dogs or beastmen. In the past, they would burn incense, but nowadays, they would use specialized products.

Naturally, both Francesca and I knew Lucia was a smoker. We learned that from Veronica. But Camila was unaware that Lucia smoked and had no idea that this was something smokers used.

“…Ah, that’s…”

Honestly, it didn’t matter to me if Lucia smoked or did drugs. The only issue was that this place valued reputation highly, and Lucia was a saint of a religion. This meant she had to be mindful of the public eye regardless of her personal preferences.

That’s why none of the cardinals or bishops, not to mention Veronica, would touch alcohol or cigarettes in official settings. That was the unspoken rule.

I decided to step in to protect Lucia’s reputation.

“That’s just a cosmetic product. It’s used to eliminate odors before using perfume or cleaning skin care products. Think of it as a kind of basic skincare item.”

“Oh, I see. They even have things like this here. That’s convenient.”

Fortunately, Camila believed my lie outright. It was partly true, as it could be used when applying makeup.

Relieved, Lucia let out a sigh of relief at my misrepresentation, and Francesca smiled at Lucia’s expression.

I patched up the injection site and changed the topic.

“Okay, let’s put the small talk aside. According to the Administrator, there’s a dark magic presence coming from the department store. Can you explain it?”

“Oh, yes.”

With a relieved hand over her chest, Lucia regained her focus.

“First, when the screams started and the commotion within the department store began, I felt an ominous energy.”

“Ominous energy?”

“Before priests of the cult receive their ordination, they go through years of mandatory training. It’s a kind of purification process. Many drop out during this time, but those who are confirmed to receive their ordination undergo additional training as a junior at the Inquisition from spring to autumn of their ordination year.”

The Inquisition was the cult’s only information agency. It handled everything from maintaining order, counterintelligence, security, to domestic and foreign intelligence gathering, all under the protection of the Pope, wielding immense power.

Of course, that was when focusing on it being an ‘information agency.’

In reality, the Inquisition could hardly be seen as a pure “information agency,” just like the Imperial Guard and Royal Intelligence Department.

The Inquisition was an intelligence agency of a theocratic state. Just look at its name: the Inquisition.

The Inquisition also took care of areas that other intelligence agencies didn’t pay much attention to. For example: heresies, cults, demonic creatures, extremist religious terrorist groups, and apostate clergy. Just to note, in the past, wizards were included in this group.

The 59th saint of the cult pointed this out.

“Before the Alhambra decree was enforced, magic, sorcery, astrology, and alchemy were prohibited studies by the Inquisition. Of course, after the Magic Tower was established, the cult officially relaxed its restrictions on magic-related matters, but dark magic is still treated as an exception.”

“Because it is associated with demons.”

The alchemist from the Magic Tower chimed in while quietly listening. Francesca, polishing her small sword, added to the conversation.

“Actually, defining dark magic as being only associated with demons is a complex issue. Not only demons, but also outsiders and magical creatures maintain deep connections with dark magicians. Dark magic is an encompassing concept that unites all those elements.”

“I never expected the Administrator to know about dark magic.”

“Dark magic is also a taboo subject in the Magic Tower.”

The Administrator from the Magic Tower Secretariat let out a light laugh while organizing her sword.

“Sometimes, wizards with exceptional magic power compatibility enter investigative agencies, like the Magic Department Investigators.”

“…Auras?”

Camila unexpectedly interrupted, spouting nonsense. I covered her mouth with my hand and focused on the information Francesca was providing.

“I know the Magic Department tracks down dark magicians or expelled wizards from the Magic Tower, or those who have committed crimes. But…?”

“There are times when investigators are particularly sensitive to magic. Just by looking at the magical residue left behind at a crime scene, some can tell who the culprit is. Other investigators can sense when magic is used even from blocks away. Didn’t you say you suddenly felt unwell after the terrorists showed up?”

“Yeah.”

“You might have a talent in that area. Being sensitive to the magic of others nearby is a rare trait.”

Francesca said this with a sly smile. Camila sparkled with curiosity at the mention of some special ability she might possess.

This was new information I hadn’t known before. I needed to understand the exact relationship between Camila’s ability and the presence of dark magic. So, I intended to ask Francesca for more details. Or at least I meant to, until the saint suddenly pulled open her front placket and reached inside.

“No, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Kyah! Don’t look! You can’t look!”

“Aah! My eyes!”

I was caught off guard, almost cursing, while Francesca blinked in shock, and Camila jumped up, covering my eyes. Regardless, Lucia continued to rummage through her front placket and continued her explanation.

“When you become a junior in the Inquisition, you learn how to identify dark magic. Specifically, you learn how to differentiate between dark magic, sorcery, astrology, and alchemy. And one method is this.”

Lucia pulled out an item she had carefully stored in her front on her chest. It was a rosary exuding a faint dark blue glow, shimmering like a galaxy.

“What is that?”

“It’s a tool for detecting dark magic. It was made from the silver obtained from the rift by dwarves.”

“…How does it work?”

“In an emergency, you carry it and check it right away. It glows dark blue when dark magic is sensed. Of course, due to material procurement issues, and the fact that there aren’t many priests capable of blessing it, it’s an item not every priest can be provided with.”

Why on Earth did you keep such an important item there, you lunatic?

I wanted to say something in disbelief, but Lucia herself showed no sign of embarrassment. Instead, it was us watching her behavior that felt more embarrassed.

Lucia spoke firmly.

“This morning, when we entered the department store, it was fine, but now it’s glowing dark blue.”

“…Since when?”

“Since the commotion began.”

The saint said.

“While I can’t specify the type of dark magic or its backers, it is certain that dark magic is involved. It’s likely connected to the ominous force surrounding the department store. It is most probably a deliberate and planned terrorist act.”

“…….”

“There may even be a dark magician inside the department store.”